BUMBLEPUPPY'S REVENGE.

Gisborne Times, Volume XXVII, Issue 2634, 16 October 1909, Page 2 (Supplement)

BUMBLEPUPPY'S REVENGE.

(By Douglas Blair MacPvke.) “Harpei"s V> oekly.

A GOLF YARN.

Two youngsters were on the third green at Hacquenok—you remembei the green, one hundred and ninety yards from the tee; an easy three for a careful player, and a hopeless mess for a long, slashing driver; also the prettiest green on the course, with its .smooth, velvety surface as beautiful as a prayer rug, and tiie high Avail of thick shrubbery on either side giving it an air of cozy seclusion. One youngster had used a deck from the tee and laid his ball dead. The other topped and flubbed his way along until he made tiie edge of the green and then holed out a beautiful long putt- for a four. The good driver overran his first putt, overran coming hack, used a short and ugly Avord. hung on his lip with his fourth, and, when Pna’ly got doAvn in five found his Amice so clogged Avith explosives that he simpiv couldn’t explode. “Jim,” said tiie winner, sadly, “you make one feel like a pirate, stealing a hole like that. Why don’t you take a little pains Avith your putting Why, you’re AA-orse than old man Blundcrby. and he’s the AA'orst player in the club. “Not in a thousand years!” cried tiie loser. “B 1 underby’s the Avorst player in this club, I’ll admit; the worst in the country, the Avorst in the Avorld — until you remember BumblopAippy. He’s the limit.” It happened that Messrs Blundcrby and Bumblcpuppy heard all tiie dialogue up to this point, for they chanced to he putting on the sixth green— Avhieli, as everybody knoAvs, lies close beyond the dense wall of shrubbery that bounds the third. As the tAvo youngsters strode off Blunderby straightened up Avith ,a grin of satisfaction due to having holed out a masterly nine, which Avas tAvo better than his average on the sixth. Yet his eyes Avore troubled. “Fine, candid lad, that young StcAvart.” he said, Avith a marked effort at calmness. “It’s really refreshing to hear so much truth. But he Avas not quite right after all. Marryat corrected him just in time; for Avhen he spoke I aatis on the point of shouting that your game was much worse than mine.” “You flatter me, old man,” said Bumblcpuppy, modestly. “Ifknow you putt worse than a coav, but your tee shots are fair, and you get nearly a hundred yards with your irou shot — when you’re on your game.” Little did the young experts dream of the sporting spirit their careless dialogue excited. The tAvo old duffers—they were forty and fat—disputed eagerly but courteously all the Avay round the links, each striving to prove himself the worst player in the club, yet secretly hoping that that title AA’ould not be thrust upon him. Of course, a match greAV out of the controversy. It Avas to be a full eighteen holes, but as a concession to Bumblepuppy, who was fattest and scantest of breath, the first nine Avere to be played on the next Saturday, and the second nine on the Saturday following. The stake was a ball a hole, a box on each nine, and three boxes> on the match; besides, a peAA'ter cup to be purchased by the loser (aa'lio was, by the mere fact of losing, tiie titular Avinncr) and inscribed as the Avinner (avlio, of course, lost tlio title) should dictate. To the great surprise of the contestants, the match attraeed a large gallery. Blunderby had the honor, and sent off a slashing drive of at least ninety yards, AA’liich worried Bumblcpuppy so much that he topped his ball off the tee and dribbled it away off to the left under a roller. Shall we fol- ' loav the fortunes of these valiant protagonists as they tacked down the course, taking a long leg to starboard and a short hitch to port, against baffling breezes from the N.N.W.? No. The temptation is great, for the gentlemen of the gallery had to stuff themselevs with handkerchiefs to repress the wild yells of laughter provoked by the antics of the sturdy focinen in the rough and in the bunkers. Let us, rather, consider the contestants Avhen they arrive at the first green; Blunderby on the edge, in a Avell-played seven, and Bumblepuppy, six yards from the hole, in eight. Blunderby now took his stance Avitli care, although it was noted afterward that he didn’t bother to brush a single worm-cast out of the Avnv. Nor did he waste much time taking aim. He swept the hall briskly aAvay with his putter, and it ran straight forward in a direction that would apparently let it lie about twelve inches short and to the left of the hole. The ball ran sIoAA-er and sloAver after some forty feet of progress. It seemed about to cease moving Avhen, to the utter surprise of everybody except Blunderby, it suddenly took on a new impetus, leaped over a Avorm-cast; swept off in a sharp curve to the right, hurdled a leaf, and popped doAvn into the hole. “Great- Scott, Blunderby!” cried Patton, the best putter in all north Jersey. “What kind of cut did you put on that ball?” “Oh, that’s just a little trick t»f mine,” replied the winner of the hole, assuming a modesty that- he was! far from feeling. His putt won the hole for him, for Bumblepuppy missed a hard try for a gobble and needed one more to get down. The second hole went to Bumblepuppy in a neat and workmanlike six; for his antagonist flubbed his drive into that black and treacherous quaking bog locally known as F. L. B. (meaning full of lost balls), and although h@

stroA'o manfully, he needed five to get out and Avas eight Avhen he came to the green. Nevertheless, he laid his first putt doAvn with a rush, and once more it was noticed that a pronounced curve swung the ball into the hole when it appeared likely to run past. The rest of the game was much like the play on the first two holes. Blundcrby might take one or two more than Ills opponent to reach the green, but he never took more than one putt. Sometimes the ball ran straight and sometimes it bobbed along a course that should have carried it right or left, but always when it got within one foot of the cup it took a pronounced curve and dropped in AA'ith a sharp click. Once, indeed, it seemed likely to put past, and then, to tiie amazement of all beholders, it actually spun backivard like a Avell-draAvn billiard ball and doAvn into the hole.

The day’s play ended Avitli Blunderby five up, and the Avhole club marvelling at his phenomenal putting—all but Bumblepuppy. He neither AA-ondereu nor Avorried. For it so happened that on the eighth green he lifted Blunderby’s ball out of the cup so as to clear the AA’ay for his own putt. And as he lifted the ball lie thought that it clung to the bottom of the receptacle. Carelessly . alloAving it to slip from his fingers, he let it drop.back and again picked it up. Did it cling? Yes; it stuck like a leech. Bumblcpuppy had studied electrical engineering before he became a prominent banker. In an instant the truth flashed on him, and he suav clearly that Blunderby had planted a strong magnet under each clip and provided balls with a stout but holloAV steel core. He chuckled as lie thought of how pleasant it Avould be to hoist Blunderby Avith his own device. As they clinked glasses on the nineteenth green he casually remarked that he supposed it Avould be only fair for both players to finish the match Avith the same clubs they had used that day. The antagonist courteously agreed. On the folloAving Wednesday Bumblepuppy came to borrow Biunderby’s putter, Avith some polite excuse about Avanting to examine it, practice Avitli it, etc. “Help yourself, old man,” cried Blunderby. with great heartiness and grinning. “You’re welcome to use it in the match -if you like.” “No, thanks,” Bumblepuppy replied; “but I think I can improve on it” — a remark which was aftenvards remembered with many shouts of joy in the club-house. The putter Avas returned with thanks on the Saturday morning, and the faithful gallery once more set forth in attendance upon the match, even though it appeared to be all over but the shouting. “But it’ll be a great treat, anyhow,” said yoAing Stewart. “We’d all quit play to AA-ateh the tAvo best players in the world, so AA-hy shouldn’t we foIIoAY the tAyo Avorst?” At the first green (Blunderby on in six, his opponent in seven) Bumblepuppy ran doAvn a thirty-foot putt. “Sorry, old man,” said Blunderby, “but I’m going to drop this in for seven.”

Alas! for the fallacy of human hopes, the best-laid plans that gang aft ngley, the many slips betAvecn the ball and the cup! With all his old insolenco lie drew back his putter, sAvipcd at the ball, and stood back to watch it roll into the hole.’ But it didn’t roll into the hole. It didn’t roll anyAvhere. It stuck to the face of the putter, and dropped off only as Blunderby stood up. He putted again. Once more it clung to the steel club-head, and let go AA'ith reluctance. Blunderby rubbed tlio putter with emery paper, tried again, and got the same result. “Guess I’ll putt Avitli my mid-iron.” he remarked, moving towards his caddy.

“But we agreed to stick to the same clubs AA'e began with,” Bumblepuppy objected. “Then it’s all oA-er,” cried Blimdefby. “I can’t get the ball down in twenty putts. It’s your match by three up and one to play, right here. But what the dickens has happened to my putter, db you suppose?” “Your putter?” asked. Bumblepuppy, biting the end off his cigar. “Oh, I took it OA-er to the trolley company’s poAA'er-house, held it \ip close to the dynamo, and had it thoroughly •magnetised.”