“Wal, it’s this way. That darn Monty is as cute an’ slick as a fox. After he got done declaimin’ about the handicap he an’ Link was so happy to take, he got Castleton over hyar an’ drove us all dotty with his crazy gol-lof names. Then he borrowed Castleton’s gol-lof coat. I reckon borrowed is some kind word. He just about took that blazin’ coat off the Englishman. Though I ain’t sayin’ but that Casleton was agreeable when he tumbled to Monty’s meanin’. Which was nothin’ more ’n to break Ambrose’s heart. That coat dazzles Ambrose. You know how vain Ambrose is. Why, he’d die to get to wear that Englishman’s gol-lof coat. An’ Monty forestalled him. It’s plumb pitiful to see the look in Ambrose’s eyes. He won’t be able to play much. Then what do you think? Monty fixed Ed Linton, all right. Usually Ed is easy-goin’ an’ cool. But now he’s on the rampage. Wal, mebbe it’s news to you to learn that Ed’s wife is powerful, turrible jealous of him. Ed was somethin’ of a devil with the wimmen. Monty goes over an’ tells Beulah—that’s Ed’s wife—that Ed is goin’ to have for caddie the lovely Miss Dorothy with the goo-goo eyes. I reckon this was some disrespectful, but with all doo respect to Miss Dorothy she has got a pair of unbridled eyes. Mebbe it’s just natural for her to look at a feller like that. Oh, it’s all right; I’m not sayin’ any-thin’! I know it’s all proper an’ regular for girls back East to use their eyes. But out hyar it’s bound to result disastrous. All the boys talk about among themselves is Miss Dot’s eyes, an’ all they brag about is which feller is the luckiest. Anyway, sure Ed’s wife knows it. An’ Monty up an’ told her that it was fine for her to come out an’ see how swell Ed was prancin’ round under the light of Miss Dot’s brown eyes. Beulah calls over Ed, figgertively speakin’, ropes him for a minnit. Ed comes back huggin’ a grouch as big as a hill. Oh, it was funny! He was goin’ to punch Monty’s haid off. An’ Monty stands there an’ laughs. Says Monty, sarcastic as alkali water: ‘Ed, we-all knowed you was a heap married man, but you’re some locoed to give yourself away.’ That settled Ed. He’s some touchy about the way Beulah henpecks him. He lost his spirit. An’ now he couldn’t play marbles, let alone gol-lof. Nope, Monty was too smart. An’ I reckon he was right about brains bein’ what wins.”
The game began. At first Madeline and Dorothy essayed to direct the endeavors of their respective players. But all they said and did only made their team play the worse. At the third hole they were far behind and hopelessly bewildered. What with Monty’s borrowed coat, with its dazzling effect upon Ambrose, and Link’s oft-repeated allusion to Ed’s matrimonial state, and Stillwell’s vociferated disgust, and the clamoring good intention and pursuit of the cowboy supporters, and the embarrassing presence of the ladies, Ambrose and Ed wore through all manner of strange play until it became ridiculous.
“Hey, Link,” came Monty’s voice booming over the links, “our esteemed rivals are playin’ shinny.”
Madeline and Dorothy gave up, presently, when the game became a rout, and they sat down with their followers to watch the fun. Whether by hook or crook, Ed and Ambrose forged ahead to come close upon Monty and Link. Castleton disappeared in a mass of gesticulating, shouting cowboys. When that compact mass disintegrated Castleton came forth rather hurriedly, it appeared, to stalk back toward his hostess and friends.
“Look!” exclaimed Helen, in delight. “Castleton is actually excited. Whatever did they do to him? Oh, this is immense!”
Castleton was excited, indeed, and also somewhat disheveled.
“By Jove! that was a rum go,” he said, as he came up. “Never saw such blooming golf! I resigned my office as umpire.”
Only upon considerable pressure did he reveal the reason. “It was like this, don’t you know. They were all together over there, watching each other. Monty Price’s ball dropped into a hazard, and he moved it to improve the lie. By Jove! they’ve all been doing that. But over there the game was waxing hot. Stillwell and his cowboys saw Monty move the ball, and there was a row. They appealed to me. I corrected the play, showed the rules. Monty agreed he was in the wrong. However, when it came to moving his ball back to its former lie in the hazard there was more blooming trouble. Monty placed the ball to suit him, and then he transfixed me with an evil eye.
“‘Dook,’ he said. I wish the bloody cowboy would not call me that. ‘Dook, mebbe this game ain’t as important as international politics or some other things relatin’, but there’s some health an’ peace dependin’ on it. Savvy? For some space our opponents have been dead to honor an’ sportsmanlike conduct. I calculate the game depends on my next drive. I’m placin’ my ball as near to where it was as human eyesight could. You seen where it was same as I seen it. You’re the umpire, an’, Dook, I take you as a honorable man. Moreover, never in my born days has my word been doubted without sorrow. So I’m askin’ you, wasn’t my ball layin’ just about here?’
“The bloody little desperado smiled cheerfully, and he dropped his right hand down to the butt of his gun. By Jove, he did! Then I had to tell a blooming lie!”