body
swaying, shoulders rigid, muscles tense, dreading to swing and wondering
whether the result would be a schlaff or a top, when--well, I simply
cannot describe the sensation. Something came over me; I don't know
what. As if someone had waved a magic wand above my head. I stopped
swaying, relaxed, felt the weight of the club head in my fingers, knew
the rhythm of the swing, heard the sharp crack as the ivory facing met
the ball. If you'll believe it, I put out such a drive as I'd never
before made in all my 12 years of golf. Straight and clean and true past
the direction flag and on and on.

"The others didn't seem to notice. Rutter had hooked into the scrub
palmettos, Staples had sliced into a pit, Ellins had topped short
somewhere in the rough. I waited until they were all out on the fairway.
Some had played three, some four shots. 'How many do you lie?' asked
Rutter. I told him that was my drive. He just stared skeptical. I could
scarcely blame him. As a rule I need a fair drive and two screaming
brassies on this long fifth before I am in position to approach across
the ravine. But this time, with a carry of some 160 yards ahead of me, I
picked my mid-iron from the bag, took a three-quarter swing, bit a
small divot from the turf as I went through, and landed the ball fairly
on the green with a back-spin that held it as though I'd had a string
tied to it. And when the others had climbed out of the ravine or
otherwise reached the green I putted in my four. A par four, mind you,
on a 420-yard hole that I'd never had better than a lucky 5 on, and
usually a 7 or an 8!

"Rutter asked me to count my strokes for him and then had the insolence
to ask how I got that way. I couldn't tell him. I did feel queer. As if
I was in some sort of trance. But my next drive was even better. A
screamer with a slight hook on the end that gave the ball an added roll.
For my second I played a jigger to the green. Another par four. Rutter
hadn't a word to say.

"Well, that's the way it went. Never had any one in our foursome played
such golf as I did for nine consecutive holes. Nothing over 5 and one
birdie 3. I think that Staples and Rutter were too stunned to make any
comment. As for Ellins, he failed to appreciate what I was doing.
Somewhat self-centered, Ellins. He's always counting his own score and
seldom notices what others are making.

"Not until we had finished the 12th, which I won with an easy 3, did
Staples, who was keeping