The Man Who Rose Again Part 51

"Anyhow, he has his clubs, and he seems to be wanting a game. Let's ask him to join us. It'll only be civil."

"I don't like threesomes."

"Neither do I on a crowded links, but it doesn't matter here. We have plenty of time; it's not ten o'clock yet."

"But I expect he's only a beginner. If he is, he'll spoil our game."

"Well, let's see."

Signor Ricordo stood near the tee as they came up. He bowed to them and stood aside.

"Are you not playing, sir?" asked Purvis.

"Yes," replied Ricordo. "I will go around by myself after you are gone.

I arranged to meet a gentleman here just after nine; but I have received word to say he can't come."

"Have you played much?" asked Sprague.

Ricordo looked at him, his eyes half closed; nevertheless, there was evident interest in his gaze.

"We in the East do not play the game. But when I came to England--what would you?--what others did, I did. That is the English fashion, eh?"

and he laughed quietly.

"Have you a handicap?" asked Sprague.

"A what?"

"A handicap. That means--well, it is a number of strokes allowed to a player."

"A handicap. Ah, yes, I am handicapped; but not in that way, signore. I am afraid I do not play well enough even to have a handicap."

"Won't you join us?" asked Purvis. "We can easily make a threesome."

The stranger darted a look, not at Purvis, but at Sprague, and he saw that he did not take the proposition kindly. Both Purvis and Sprague were good players, and especially the latter did not wish the game spoiled.

"I cannot refuse such a kind invitation," said Signor Ricordo. "But I will not interfere with your play. Let the match be between you two, while I will struggle on as best I may. If--if I do not prove such a--a--what do you call it?--duffer as I fear, then I might sometimes enter into the compet.i.tion; but that, I imagine, will not be. Still, I cannot refuse such courtesy."

He looked a striking figure as he stood by them. His clothes, although not very different from those worn by the others, were somewhat foreign in style; while his fez, surmounting his dark, Oriental-looking face, would single him out anywhere as an Eastern.

"Will you proceed, gentlemen?" he continued; "as for me, I will bring up the rear. If I find I am spoiling your game, I will drop out."

Purvis and Sprague tossed for the honour, and the former, having won it, drove first. His ball flew straight as an arrow towards the distant flag. Sprague followed next, and sent his ball within a dozen yards of the one which Purvis had driven.

"Ah," said Signore Ricordo, "I feel humbled before I begin. I see I shall not long deserve your society."

He struck his ball, and foozled it badly. It went away among the heather, where some two or three minutes were spent in finding it.

Sprague and Purvis halved the hole, while Ricordo was several strokes down.

"We shall have to get rid of the fellow," said Sprague. "You see he's only a beginner."

"Let us be civil," said Purvis. "We are staying at the same place, and he promises to be interesting."

The next hole Ricordo fared a little better, but only a little. Sprague began to think of some hint he could give him that would cause him to leave them.

"I will play one or two holes more with you, Mr.--Mr.--ah, I am afraid I did not catch your name."

"Sprague is my name."

"Sprague, Sprague--thank you; yes, I will remember. My name is Ricordo--that means remember, and I will remember, yes."

"And mine is Purvis."

"Thank you. Yes, I will remember. I will play one or two holes more with you, and then, if I continue to be such a--duffer--yes, that is the word--then I will go away, and challenge you for to-morrow."

"Golf is a difficult game," said Sprague; "one does not pick it up in a day."

"Ah, you do not think I will be a match for you to-morrow."

"Why, do you?" and Sprague laughed lightly.

"If not to-morrow, then the next day. I never rest until I am a match for my--what do you call it--enemy?"

"Not quite so bad as that--opponent," said Purvis.

"Opponent, yes, that is the word. I learnt English when I was a boy, but I have had such little practice at it lately, and so--but there, I will remember. Whenever I play a game--and is not life a game?--I am often beaten at first. But then I remember that there is always a to-morrow, and so I go on."

"Until you are a match for your opponent?"

"Until I have beaten him," said Ricordo.

Sprague laughed. "A lot of to-morrows are required in golf, Mr.

Ricordo," he said.

"Yes, they are required for most things; but they come. Still, this match is only just begun yet. Who knows? I may improve!"

This conversation had taken place while walking from the green to the tee, which in this case was some little distance.

For the next five holes Sprague and Purvis played with varying fortunes, but when the seventh hole was played the former was one up. As for Ricordo, while he greatly improved, he did not even halve a single hole with either of them. As he improved they offered to give him strokes, and so make the possibility of a match, but he refused.

"I always like to play level," he said sententiously. "You never beat a man if he gives you strokes. Let me see, I am now seven down. If I lose two more it will be impossible for me to win the match, eh?"

"That is the arithmetic of it, I imagine," said Purvis.

"Ah!" said Ricordo.

Ding! Ding! Ding! The three b.a.l.l.s flew through the air, and each went straight to the green, only in this case Ricordo's ball went several yards further than the others.

"That was a lucky stroke of mine," he said, as he saw them exchange significant glances. "Ah! if I could only do it always!"