not on the regular calling list, though Miss
Viola is pretty enough to--"

"Look out!" suddenly cried Sharwell, as though appealing to the two
automobilists, far off as they were. For the yellow car made a sudden
swerve and seemed about to turn turtle.

But Bartlett skillfully brought the Spanish Omelet back on the road
again, and swung up alongside his rival for the home stretch-the broad
highway that ran in front of the clubhouse.

The players who were soon to start out on the links; the guests, the
gallery, and the servants gathered to see the finish of the impromptu
race, murmurs arising as it was seen how close it was likely to be.
And close it was, for when the two machines, with doleful whinings of
brakes, came to a stop in front of the house, the front wheels were in
such perfect alignment that there was scarcely an inch of difference.

"A dead heat!" exclaimed Bartlett, as he leaped out and motioned for one
of the servants to take the car around to the garage.

"Yes, you win!" agreed Captain Poland, as he pushed his goggles back on
his cap. He held out a bill.

"What's it for?" asked Bartlett, drawing back.

"Why, I put up a ten spot that I'd beat you. I didn't, and you win."

"Buy drinks with your money!" laughed Bartlett. "The race was to be for
a finish, not a dead heat. We'll try it again, sometime."

"All right-any time you like!" said the captain crisply, as he sat down
at a table after greeting some friends. "But you won't refuse to split a
quart with me?"

"No. My throat is as dusty as a vacuum cleaner. Have any of the matches
started yet, Bruce?" he asked, turning to the Human Encyclopedia.

"Only some of the novices. And, speaking of novices, do you know that in
Scotland there are fourteen thousand, seven hundred--"

"Cut it, Bruce! Cut it!" begged the captain. "Sit in--you and Tom--and
we'll make it two bottles. Anything to choke off your flow of useless
statistics!" and he laughed good-naturedly.

"When does the cup-winners' match start?" asked Bartlett, as the four
young men sat about the table under the veranda. "That's the one I'm
interested in."

"In about an hour," announced Sharwell, as he consulted a card. "Hardly
any of the veterans are here yet."

"Has Mr. Carwell arrived?" asked Captain Poland, as he raised his glass
and seemed to be studying the bubbles that spiraled upward from the
hollow stem.

"You'll know when he gets here," answered Bruce Garrigan.

"How so?" ask