the air was charged with disaster. As Ed swung the
club it fairly whistled.

Crack! Instantly came a thump. But no one saw the ball until it dropped
from Stillwell's shrinking body. His big hands went spasmodically to the
place that hurt, and a terrible groan rumbled from him.

Then the cowboys broke into a frenzy of mirth that seemed to find
adequate expression only in dancing and rolling accompaniment to their
howls. Stillwell recovered his dignity as soon as he caught his breath,
and he advanced with a rueful face.

"Wal, boys, it's on Bill," he said. "I'm a livin' proof of the
pig-headedness of mankind. Ed, you win. You're captain of the team. You
hit straight, an' if I hadn't been obstructin' the general atmosphere
that ball would sure have gone clear to the Chiricahuas."

Then making a megaphone of his huge hands, he yelled a loud blast of
defiance at Monty and Link.

"Hey, you swell gol-lofers! We're waitin'. Come on if you ain't scared."

Instantly Monty and Link quit practising, and like two emperors came
stalking across the links.

"Guess my bluff didn't work much," said Stillwell. Then he turned to
Madeline and her friends. "Sure I hope, Miss Majesty, that you-all won't
weaken an' go over to the enemy. Monty is some eloquent, an', besides,
he has a way of gettin' people to agree with him. He'll be plumb wild
when he heahs what he an' Link are up against. But it's a square deal,
because he wouldn't help us or lend the book that shows how to play.
An', besides, it's policy for us to beat him. Now, if you'll elect who's
to be caddies an' umpire I'll be powerful obliged."

Madeline's friends were hugely amused over the prospective match; but,
except for Dorothy and Castleton, they disclaimed any ambition for
active participation. Accordingly, Madeline appointed Castleton to judge
the play, Dorothy to act as caddie for Ed Linton, and she herself to be
caddie for Ambrose. While Stillwell beamingly announced this momentous
news to his team and supporters Monty and Link were striding up.

Both were diminutive in size, bow-legged, lame in one foot, and
altogether unprepossessing. Link was young, and Monty's years, more than
twice Link's, had left their mark. But it would have been impossible to
tell Monty's age. As Stillwell said, Monty was burned to the color and
hardness of a cinder. He never minded the heat, and always wore heavy
sheepskin chaps with the wool outside. This made him look broader than
he wa