"Buck fever," said Booverman in a whisper. "Can't see a thing."
Pickings, holding the flag in the cup, said savagely:
"Shoot!"
The ball advanced in a zigzag path, running from worm-cast to a
worm-cast, wobbling and rocking, and at the last, as though preordained,
fell plump into the cup!
At the same moment, Pickings and Booverman, as though carried off by the
same cannon-ball, flattened on the green.
III
Five minutes later, wild-eyed and hilarious, they descended on the
clubhouse with the miraculous news. For an hour the assembled golfers
roared with laughter as the two stormed, expostulated, and swore to the
truth of the tale.
[Illustration: A committee carefully examined the books of the club]
They journeyed from house to house in a vain attempt to find some
convert to their claim. For a day they passed as consummate comedians,
and the more they yielded to their rage, the more consummate was their
art declared. Then a change took place. From laughing the educated town
of Stockbridge turned to resentment, then to irritation, and finally to
suspicion.
Pages:
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203