returned at the
Vesper Hour caked with Dust and 98 per cent. gone in the Turret.

It seems that at the sixth hole on the Last Round where you cross the
Crick twice, he fell down and broke both Arms and both Legs. So he
tore up the Medal Score, gave all the Clubs to the Caddy, and standing
on the grassy Summit of the tall Ridge guarding the Bunker, he had
lifted a grimy Paw and uttered the Vow of Renunciation.

[Illustration: He tore up the Medal Score, gave all the Clubs to the
Caddy ... lifted a grimy Paw and uttered the Vow of Renunciation]

In other words, he was Through.

The senile Wrecks and the prattling Juveniles, for whom the Game was
invented, could have his Part of it for all time.

Never again would he walk on the Grass or cook his Arms or dribble
Sand all over the dark and trampled Ground where countless Good Men
had suffered.

No, Indeed!

So next day he bought all the Paraphernalia known to the Trade, and
his name was put up at a Club.

It was one of those regular and sure-enough Clubs. High East Winds
prevailed in the Locker-Room. Every member was a Chick Evans when he
got back to the nineteenth hole.

Mr. Pallzey now began to regard the Ancient and Honorable Pastime as a
compendium of Sacraments, Ordeals, Incantations, and Ceremonial
Formalities.

He resigned himself into the Custody of a professional Laddie with
large staring Knuckles and a Dialect that dimmed all the memories of
Lauder.

In a short time the Form was classy, but the Score had to be taken out
and buried after every Round.

Mr. Pallzey saw that this Mundane Existence was not all Pleasure. He
had found his Life-Work. The Lode-Star of his declining Years would be
an even one hundred for the eighteen Flags.

Wife would see him out in the Street, feeling his way along, totally
unmindful of his Whereabouts. She would lead him into the Shade, snap
her Fingers, call his Name, and gradually pull him out of the Trance.

He would look at her with a filmy Gaze and smile faintly, as if partly
remembering and then say: "Don't forget to follow through. Keep the
head down--tight with the left--no hunching--pivot on the hips. For a
Cuppy Lie, take the Nib. If running up with the Jigger, drop her dead.
The full St. Andrews should not be thrown into a Putt. Never up, never
in. Lift the flag. Take a pickout from Casual Water but play the
Roadways. To overcome Slicing or Pulling, advance the right or left
Foot. Schlaffing and Socketing ma