(_With the British Army in France._)
"I noticed the old sapper instinct asserting itself in Mac when he tried to
tunnel out of that bunker at the seventh," said Denny after tea in the golf
club-house. "He'd have found some opportunities on a really sporting course
like ours at Villers-Vereux. Remember Villers, Ponting?"
"It wasn't a golf links as I remember it," said Ponting grimly.
"Bless you, I'm not speaking of those far-away days. I'm talking of a month
or two back, when I was there with a Chinese Salvage Company trying to
clear up the mess you made. Beastly quiet it was, too. The only excitement
was a playful habit the Chink had contracted of picking up a rusty rifle
and a salvaged clip of cartridges, pointing the gun anywhere and pulling
the trigger to make it say _Bang!_ I often found myself doin' the old
B.E.F. tummy-wriggle when the _Chinois_ was really happy.
"One Sunday--a non-working day--when all was drab and dreary and existence
seemed a double-blank, my orderly mentioned that he had discovered some old
'golfing bats' in one of the hutments. Evidently they were the remains of
the spoils of a lightning foray on the Base. A further search revealed a
couple of elliptical balls, quite good in places. So I tipped my cub,
Laxey, out of his bunk and we proceeded to resurrect our pre-war form.
By-and-by we got adventurous, and Laxey challenged me to play him a match
after lunch for ten francs a side. The details required some arranging, as
there were no greens or holes, but eventually we decided on a cross-country
stroke competition, starting from the hut-door and finishing at a crump
hole, map ref.: B 26c, 08,35.
"We tossed for clubs, and as I won I picked a driver and a hockey stick,
leaving Laxey a brassie and a putter head tied to a whangee cane that gave
it plenty of whip. Laxey was spot, and broke with a ten-yard drive. Then I
teed up and drove with a good follow-through action that carried me round
several circles before I could stop.
"I did better the next time, and made my ball rather sorry that it had been
making fun of me. Laxey had a bad lie and, though he lofted his ball with
the putter (as I said, the whangee _did_ give it 'whip'), he didn't clear
the hutments. After he had cannoned off the roof of a 'Nissen' into the
cook-house I took my turn, and to my disgust pulled into a trench that
formed part of our old support line.
"'Our ways lie apart now, old melon,' I said, 'and I should advise you to
follow my example and get your batman to keep the count. Otherwise your
play will be affected by arithmetical troubles.'
"Accompanied by my faithful Wilkins I found my ball and reviewed the
situation. The driver and hockey stick were hopeless for mashie shots, but
Wilkins reported a practicable C.T. a few yards to the right, leading to
the front line, and some gently sloping revetting from thence to the level.
Luckily the C.T. had plenty of length to each traverse, and when I emerged
in the open with my sixty-seventh Laxey was only just getting clear of the
huts, having been badly bunkered in the coal dump. He made good progress
from there, but I got into the rough--a regular Gruyère of shell-holes.
While I was attempting to hack my way through I heard a delighted gurgle of
laughter and turned round to see half-a-dozen of the Chinks sitting on
their hams and watching me with undisguised jubilation.
"'Send them away, Wilkins,' I said irritably. 'Can't you see they're
putting me off my game?'
"Wilkins shoved them off, and I took the old German line with a rush. While
I was so to speak consolidating, a runner arrived from Laxey asking for the
loan of a pair of wire-cutters.
"''E's 'ung up on the wire, Sir,' said the runner, 'an' cursing the
artillery somethink awful from force of 'abit.'
"I sent a pair of nail-scissors with my compliments, and would Mr. Laxey
kindly inform me what was his score to date? Laxey returned the scissors,
saying that he found he could manage better with a tie-clip, and his score
at 15.30 hours was 346, please. Cheered by the knowledge that I was a
matter of twenty to the good, I executed a brilliant dribble along a ditch,
neatly tricked a couple of saplings and finished with a long spinning-jenny
into a camouflaged strong point. By this time Wilkins was in such a maze of
mathematics that he hadn't time to scare off the coolies, who were tumbling
up in large numbers and giving a generous meed of applause.
"Towards the 400 Laxey, who also had a good gallery of Chinks, was losing
touch, and I advised him by runner to change direction. He thanked me, but
said that, in view of the difficult nature of the terrain, he had decided
to work round from a flank. Feeling that I was nearing the objective I
organised a series of approach-shots with the driver, and sent to ask Laxey
if he would care to accept fifty start. However, having foozled into a
ruined pillbox, I reduced the offer by half, and later on, confident--not
to say insulting--reports from Laxey induced me to withdraw the concession
altogether.
"At 16.30 hours precisely, amid intense excitement on the part of the
Celestial audience, we arrived at the deciding crump-hole simultaneously.
When I say we arrived, I mean that Laxey had an eight-yard putt from a good
lie--an easy proposition with the whangee putter--and I was ten yards away
in as wicked a little crevice as you could wish to find.
"'If it doesn't shake your nerve, skipper,' said Laxey, 'I might mention
that my score is 543.'
"'You'd better give me the game, then,' I answered. 'I'm but a modest 520.'
"'Not jolly likely. You'll take at least twenty to get out of that burrow.
Besides, I know Wilkins is rotten at figures, and I claim a recount.'
"An audit and scrutiny showed that we were both 537, and although Laxey
held a distinct advantage in position I decided on a strenuous effort to
halve the game. I took a firm stance and the hockey stick and let drive for
the hole with a tremendous pickaxe stroke. Instantly there was a blinding
flash and an explosion, and, when we had finished picking sand out of our
ears and eyes and allayed the excitement of the Chinks, we discovered my
ball comfortably nestling in the crump-hole.
"'If assistance with derelict Mills bombs is allowed,' said Laxey, 'we've
halved.'
"'On the contrary,' I replied, 'as your ball is apparently missing I've
won.'
"And, if you believe me, we couldn't find Laxey's ball anywhere, though we
had seen it but a minute or two before. So I claimed the ten francs; but I
didn't mention to Laxey that the following morning I was passing a group of
the coolies and saw them with an object that looked suspiciously like
Laxey's ball, hammering it with a stick and trying to make it say _Bang_!"
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Constable_ (_to dreamy little foreigner_). "I DON'T KNOW
WHERE YOU WERE BORN, TICH, BUT I'LL GIVE ODDS YOU'LL DIE IN ENGLAND."]
* * * * *
"Wanted, Second Housemaid of three, Scotchwoman preferred; willing to
wait on table if required; comfortable situation."--_Daily Paper._
Possibly; but we always prefer our servants to do their waiting on the
floor.
* * * * *