I felt mortally certain Wallace would make a failure of that first shot, and he told me later he was rather nervous, but he took no unnecessary chances.

He used a three-quarter swing--at least so it appeared to me--such a one I should employ to drive a low ball about one hundred and fifty yards.

He seemed to put no effort into it, but the result proved there was not an ounce of misapplied energy. It all seemed unstudied, but I knew that every muscle and sinew of his lithe and well-proportioned body was working to the end that the face of his club should not swerve by one hair's breadth from the course he had planned for it.

It was the ball which we less-favoured golfers dream shall some day be ours to command; the ball which starts low, rises in a concave curve, and ends its trajectory in a slight slant to the left--the low, hooked ball. It was not a phenomenally long drive; about two hundred yards, I should say, but for the apparent effort expended I have never seen a more perfect shot.

"Why in thunder don't you hit it hard, Wallace?" demanded Bishop. "Soak it, man, soak it! That was only a love tap."

I would rather have stood in the shoes of that "hired man," and listened to the comments of those three girls, than to rival the eloquence of Demosthenes, and withstand the surges of the applause of admiring thousands.

"Let me drive two or three easy ones, Mr. Bishop," Wallace said, placing another ball on the turf, "and then I will press a bit, and see if I have lost the feel of a full swing."

It was a wonderful exhibition of clean, long driving. He teed a dozen b.a.l.l.s, and I doubt if one of them fell fifteen yards outside the line of the lone walnut tree which had been selected as the target. The ground was fairly level, and Mr. Bishop and I paced the distance to the outer ball. We agreed that it was about two hundred and forty yards from the point driven, and seven of the twelve b.a.l.l.s were found within a radius of fifteen yards. In fact all of them would have been on or near the edge of a large putting green.

I have seen longer driving, but nothing equalling it in accuracy or consistency.

"It is very much better than I had expectation of doing," said Wallace.

"That is a well-balanced club of yours, Mr. Smith, but a bit too short and whippy for me."

He good-naturedly consented to try lofting and approaching shots. On the start he was a little unsteady, due probably to lack of familiarity with my clubs, which are made to conform with some of my pet hobbies. After a few minutes' practise he got the hang of them and did really brilliant work.

With a mashie at one hundred and twenty yards he dropped ball after ball within a short distance of a stake which served to indicate a cup. He picked them clean from the turf, lofting them with that back-spin which causes them to drop almost dead. It was the golf I have always claimed to be within the range of possibility, but I never hoped to see it executed. Even Bishop was impressed with the skill displayed by his employee, and as the b.a.l.l.s soared true from his club, like quoits from the hand of a st.u.r.dy expert, the farmer grinned his appreciation.

"I don't know much about this here game, Jack," he said, as Wallace rejoined us, "but it looks to me as if this man of mine has you Woodvale fellows skinned a mile. Tell you what I'll do! I'll back him for ten dollars against any man you've got."

"I am not eligible to play in Woodvale," observed Wallace, a peculiar smile hovering on his lips, "so it is useless to discuss that."

"You shall play as my guest," declared Miss Lawrence. "I have a perfect right to--"

"I should be glad to extend that courtesy to Mr. Wallace at any time," I interrupted, fearing that she might say something which would be misconstrued.

"I thank both of you, but it is out of the question," said Wallace with quiet dignity, and Miss Harding with her usual tact changed the topic by asking Wallace to ill.u.s.trate a certain point relating to the short approach shot.

On our way back to the auto I walked with Mr. Bishop, and of a sudden a thought occurred to me.

"I am in an important compet.i.tion for a trophy presented to the club by Mr. Harding," I explained, "and I wish you to do me a favour."

"What kind of a favour?"

"If I can arrange with Wallace to give me a few lessons in driving and approaching, will you have any objections? It would put some extra money in his pocket."

"Not after he is through with his work," Bishop said, hesitating a moment. "But I can't have you folks takin' up his time as a regular thing when he should be out in the field. This thing to-day is all right enough, and I'm glad to accommodate Miss Lawrence and the rest of ye, but of course, as you know, Jack, it breaks up his day's work, and this is a busy season on a farm like this. But as a rule he is through his ch.o.r.es at half-past six, and there's lots of sunlight after that."

I managed to get Wallace aside before we left the farmhouse. I told him of the club compet.i.tion and of my desire to win the Harding trophy.

"Mr. Bishop tells me your time is your own after half-past six in the evening," I said. "Would you be willing to give me a few lessons after that hour? I will bring clubs and b.a.l.l.s and meet you where we were this afternoon."

"I will tell you anything I know, Mr. Smith," he said, "but I fear I shall prove a poor instructor."

"I shall expect to pay for your time, Mr. Wallace, and if you can improve my drive you will find it worth your while," I said, glad of a chance to do something in an honourable way for a chap who certainly has not been favoured with his share of good fortune.

"If I accept pay I will become a professional golfer, will I not, Mr.

Smith?" he asked, and for the life of me I did not know what to say.

"I would be willing to pay you five dollars a lesson," I said, ignoring his question, trusting that the figure named would outweigh scruples, if he really had any.

"It is more than I would take, though I thank you for the offer," he said. "I do not doubt that golf is an honourable profession--in fact I know it is--but for reasons which will not interest you I prefer to maintain my amateur standing. It will be a pleasure to play with you, sir, and to help your game if I can, but I would rather not accept money."

"Very well," I said, "I'll find some other way to repay you. Suppose I take the first lesson to-morrow evening?"

"To-morrow evening at half after six o'clock," he said, and we shook hands in parting to bind the agreement.

I had already formed a plan by which I could even matters without the direct pa.s.sing of money. It strikes me as odd that this farmhand should object to becoming a professional golfer, but it tends to prove the accuracy of my original opinion that he is some college chap, probably of good family, who is at the end of his resources.

We had no sooner started from Bishop's than Miss Lawrence turned her batteries on me.

"You think you are very sly, do you not, Mr. Smith?" she began.

"In what way, Miss Lawrence?"

"You think to steal my golf instructor from me," she declared. "That is just like a man; they are the meanest, most selfish things ever created."

"Listen to me--"

"I did listen to you," declared that young lady with a triumphant laugh.

"I did listen to you, and I have sharp ears. You are to have your first exclusive lesson to-morrow evening. I make the discovery that Mr.

Wallace knows more of golf than all of you Woodvale boys together, and then you seek to monopolise his skill. That's what he did, girls, and he dare not deny it! What do you think of him?"

"Monster!" laughed Miss Harding, our fair chauffeuse on this return trip, raising her eyes for an instant to mine.

"Ingrate!" hissed Miss Ross, leaning forward from the tonneau.

"What shall we do with him?" demanded Miss Lawrence.

"Make him take us with him!" they chorused, and I a.s.sured them that nothing would give me more pleasure.

And thus it happened that Wallace acquired four pupils instead of one, and for three successive evenings we had a jolly time in the old sheep pasture taking our lessons from this most remarkable "hired man." We had to let Mr. Harding into the secret the second evening, but he promised not to "b.u.t.t in" to our cla.s.s, so he and Bishop sat on a side hill and smoked and laughed and seemed to enjoy the exhibition hugely.

These little excursions to the old sheep pasture excited increasing curiosity in the club. I enjoyed them immensely, since it gave me a chance to walk slowly home with Miss Harding.

After the first visit we discarded the auto, since its use threatened too much publicity. There was no real reason for keeping the affair a secret, except that it is a pleasure to hold an interest in a mystery, and I think most of us will confess to this harmless weakness. In addition I was steadily improving my short game, which has been my great handicap when pitted against Carter.

And besides, as I have noted, I enjoyed the companionship of Miss Harding--and, of course, that of the others of our little group.

I am of the opinion that LaHume followed and spied upon us on the occasion of our second trip, and very likely on the succeeding one. I am sure I saw someone raise his head above a scrubby knoll to the south, and am reasonably certain I recognised LaHume's gray cap. He was not about the club that evening until after our return, and the same thing happened on the following evening. His manner led me to believe he knew more than he cared to tell. He was sullen almost to the point of insolence.

After having been ignored once or twice by Miss Lawrence, LaHume left our little group on the veranda and pulled a chair to the side of Carter, who was reading his evening paper. It is not safe to interrupt Carter while thus engaged, but after LaHume said a few words the other laid aside the paper and listened intently. They talked for some time, and in view of what happened later I have an idea of the subject of their conversation.