loin, and certainly looks as if he was able to take care of himself. I
presume that he is some college chap who cannot make his way in the
profession he has chosen, and who is trying to get a financial start by
working on a farm.

I am going to have a talk with him at the first opportunity, and if my
suspicion is verified I shall try to find some way to give him a quicker
start. I doubt if Bishop is paying him more than twenty dollars a month.

As I started to describe, LaHume, Miss Olive Lawrence and I were playing
a threesome. It was along about noon when we came to the tenth tee,
which is located so that a sliced ball may go into or over the country
road which separates the Bishop farm from the golf course. Miss Lawrence
is not an accurate player, but she drives as long a ball as any woman
golfer in Woodvale.

She hit the ball hard, but sliced it, and a strong westerly wind helped
deflect it to the right. It sailed over the fence, and struck in a
ploughed field only a few feet from a man whom I recognised as Wallace.

He had evidently been looking in our direction, and he followed the
flight of the ball. He walked up to it.

"Are you playing bounds?" he shouted, lifting his cap.

"Yes!" answered LaHume, "throw it back!"

Wallace carried a stout stick of some kind in his hand. He looked at the
end of it critically, placed the ball on a clod of soil, glanced at us
and called "Fore!" and then lofted that ball with as clean a shot as ever