THE SUNDAY OREGOXIAX, PORTLAND, AUGUST 13, 1922
Irwin
Of Course You've Heard of
the Seagull Links and of
Edgerley Moore. He's the
Golfer Who But That
Would Be Revealing the
Secret.
I CANNOT te!l the story of Edgerley
Moore without telling the story of.
our golf club, for one is comple
mentary to Che other. The Seagull links
la only fire years old. yet It has become,
after a fashion, famous, as has also .
Edgerley Moore, and their sporting Im
mortalities go together.
"Sporty little links all natural haz
ards. Here's here Edgerley Moore was
developed. You've heard of him. The
golfer who" But I withhold the end
of that quotation lest I betray my story.
Hitherto only, four eonie hare known
the whole truth about Mr. Moore's
career. However mucn tne pudiic tnougni.
It knew Dr. Carrington, Mrs. Bavin.
John B. Gillespie and I. And last week
an inconspicuous item In the sporting
page announced the death of "John B.
Gillespie the tralnar who " but
here I must stop again. Edgerley Moore
Is already dead. And Mrs. Bavin and
Dr. Carrington say there's no reason
they know of w-hy I should not make
public the Inside of this remarkable
episode in amateur sport.
Edgerley Moores when Mrs Bavin
called on him concerning the golf club,
announced flatly that he'd never seen
anything in the game and had never
tried it. He started a dissertation to
prove that a similar game had been
played in ancient Egypt, which Mrs.
Bavin had to interrupt to remind him
that other people In Case Harbor wanted
to play, and that he owed it to the com
munity. Moved by that argument, Mr.
Moore Joined and even promised .to look
in on the links some day.
It was a different matter with John
B. Gillespie. In a more choosy com
munity I doubt whether he would have
been asked to Join at all. He had blown
Into that town about a year before, built
a new house, bright and varnished, over
on the hills beyond the Cowan place, and
started immediately to get himself solid
with the townspeople and with us. He
was a bachelor at least I never heard
of any Mrs. Gillespie and there arose
scandalous whimpers about some of his
bouse parties.
Six months later his purpose was re
vealed, lie had bought three old and
nearly useless farms on the hills sur
rounding his new house and was market
ing lots in Gillespie's addition- " a high
class residence district." as his advertis
ing expressed ft. We even heard rumors
" that he intended to put up 'a modern
country hotel. This proceeding did not
tend to make him popular; we had al
ways feared the day when Case Harbor
would become semi-fashionable and yoir'd
no longer feel like going over to the post- ,
office in your sweater. Gillespie, I sup
pose, knew that, and it set him to work
all the harder at the job f gathering
popularity.
tie was a tall man in his late 40s. with
something theatrically distinguished in
his general makeup.
If you looked his clothes over in detail,
you realized they were as quiet as any
one's; yet he always gave somehow the
effect of loud dressing. The women
called him. In their confidential mo
ments, a little vulgar why. they could
never explain. It was an effect as subtle
and indefinable as that apparent loud
ness of his clothes.
As might have been expected. Mr. Gil
lespie leaped at the proposal for a coun
try club. Everyone understood his mo
tive it was a great selling point for
Gillespie's addition. He took up golf at
once; was playing a moderately good
duffers game before the links were much
better than rough hill and meadow.
I was privileged to be present at a
much more important event on our links,
one of those little, unconsidered moments
which one recognizes as the beginning
of history. I saw Edgerley Moore make
his first attempt. It was Billy Means, one
of our golf fiends, who lured him away
from his garden, tempted him, and put
a driver into his. hands. I was waiting
at the first tee for a partner when, after
a few minutes of instruction about not
trying to hit it too hard and keeping his
eye on the ball, he made his first swing.
f met him in the clubhouse afterward:
more excited than I had ever seen him
before.
"There's something in thegame." he
aid. "Billy Means says "
"Eighty-five for the nine holes that's
all!" put in Billy. "I ask you If that
isn't good for the first time he ever
touched a golf club."
We congra'.ulared Mr. Moore .hypo
critically we'd all been through that
stage of the triumphant initial round
and dodged away to escape a disserta
tion which he was beginning on the game
of golf among the early kings of Scot
land. 1 noted him. a few days later, going
round, with Jock Ransome, our pro. That
night Jock was wrapping my driver and
Indulging in shop talk, and he touched on
Mr. Moore.
"Pity he wasn't caught young." said
Jock. " 'Course he can't do anything
ncn now started too old. But he's
got natural form I can't teach him any
thing about swinging. And he's a nut on
the game." From his tone. Jock was
mentioning this last fact not in the spirit
of criticism but of warm approval. "But
you.'Mr. Langford. with that natural eye
of yours "
Edgerley Moore drifted out of my
thoughts while I bathed in Jock's flat
tery. However, this conversation did servs
to make me notice thereafter the ways of
Mr. Moore. Jock was perfectly right.
i-T- Tt-J-.-'-W- . . ' I 9 ' . I 1 H fi Mill1 if, - '3M -
The next day I lost a bail on our third
hole and signaled Moore to go through.
"One above par!" he cackled, waving
his putter, "and from the bunker at
that!" His ruddy face above his white
mustache was glowing like the sun on
winter snows.' It occurred to me then
that a belated ambition is a terrible
thing. Through all his calm, well-fed
life he had entirely escaped the exciting
but perturbing desire to excel. It had
struck him at last: and all the harder
because so long delayed.
We had assembled in the grill room,,
getting from soft drinks what con
viviality one may in these days when the
18th amendment, t has killed the 19th
hole Billy Means.' John B. Gillespie, Dr.
Carrington and I. The approach of Mr
Moore, the certainty that if we gave him
hart an opening we should have to listen
to the detailed story of his solitary round,
set us all to chattering. Dr. Carrington,
apparently grabbing at the first idea
which came into his head, remarked as
he had often remarked before:
"Golf'a at least three-quarters mental,
and less than a quarter physical."
"Don't believe it. That's theory," said
Billy Means, grouchily. "I've heard that
stuff and tried it out. It doesn't work.
I say, to myself. 'Now I will hit that
ball ' and I top it and roll it about
three feet or slice it into the next lot."
"Jock would tell you that it's because
you were gritting your teeth and press
ing," said Dr. Carrington. "I prefer to
put it in another way. It's as though
you were trying to drive with your put
ter. You've taken the wrong club out
of your intellectual bag that's all. It
Isn't the mere conscious mind the kind
we're overworking just now in this lit
tle argument. It's the old subconscious
mind the master and the mystery."
0 "Is that the'mind one uses in golf?"
asked John B. Gillespie suddenly.
"Certainly "began the doctor. And
at this moment he was Interrupted by
the entrance of Jock Ransome, the pro,
who had come in to get some tobacco.
"Jock." said Dr. Carrington. "isn't golf
more mental than physical?"
"Su-sure:" said Jock. . "That's what
I've been telling you all summer, but you
wouldn't listen."
"I suppose, then, that if you had a
long thinking session with yourself just
before you hit the ball you'd make a par
stroke every time?" inquired the doc
tor. "Nope," answered Jock, stippipg right
into the trap. " 'tain't that kind of mind."
At these words such a perfect, un
conscious repetition of the doctor's we
laughed.
"If you would try to learn something
Instead of making golf a joke." snapped
Jock, as he pocketed bis tobacco and
withdrem-.
Mr. Moore had not laughed. He still
stood, as he had at the beginning of the
conversation, leaning morosely against
our denatured bar. every line of his face
drooping to match the droop of hlsK hite
sealion mustache.
"Well, I'd come pretty near selling my
soul to the devil to get that kind of .
mind." he said. "Why today when I
started to drive I said to myself "
and promptly BUly Means' chair scraped
on the floor. The doctor remembered
that be was late to dinner; 1 followed
without any excuse whatever, leaving Mr.
Moore still standing at the bar dronJng.
Mr. Gillespie still sitting in the corner
twirling his glass and seeming to make
polite pretense of listening.
By the time we opened the summer
greens next season that pair had become
a fixture on our links. I remembered
afterward that I never saw Moore play
ing with anyone except Gillespie, who
was apparently taking the game at seri
ously as his sen fie partner.
John B. Gillespie attracted attention
that spring In another way. Suddenly
his addition to Case Harbor began to
boom. A great signboard advertising
the addition went up across from the .
station; one morning there was a half
page advertisement in all the city papers.
In this, as In the sign which now
blotched the clean greenery of the forest
patch across the railroad track, "sporty,
picturesque and convenient golf links"
blazed out in large letters. I didn't like
it at all; it seemed to me -to name the
most definite objection scarcely clubby.
1 talked it over freely round the club
house when Gillespie was not present,
and found opinion divided and mixed.
The proceeding was rather loud and pre
sumptuous agreed. But and although
no one. went further, I could supplement
that "but." Most of us owned our
houses. While none had any idea of
selling, it was still pleasant to realise
that your bit of land had doubled ' in
alue. Which waa probably what would
"But don't yon see," said Airs.
happem if Gillespie' addition became a
success.
But Madge Bavin, whom I found just
mounting the seat of her roadster, ren
dered a short and emphatic minority
report.
"It's horrid." sne said, "perfectly hor
rid! Wo couldn't be really fashionable
here even if we wanted to. But to be
semi-fashionable a lot of profiteers and
their Bt&ll-fed wives and their eilly, ex
pensive, flapper daughters " Mrs
Bavin had been adjusting levers and keys
preparatory to starting. Her blue eyes
determined without hardness, firm with
out coldness looked directly into my
eyes. .
"How do you like him?" she asked.
"Oh, so-so!" I replied.
"Jimmy Langford, yotf know you don't
like him! He gives me the crawls some
how, and he always has," said Mrs. Bavin.
She dropped her foot onto the self-starter
and, as the roadster slid away into the
distance, I reflected that here, eventually,
was the finish of John B. Gillespie. Mrs.
Bavin had" a way of getting things done.
Also I wondered just how much of her
motive was Jealousy for her own leader
ship among us. .
" On my way back to the clubhouse 1
met Billy Means, carrying the notice of
handicaps for the club tournament to
post on the bulletin board. I was down
for 15-10. But Just below my name
came Moore, Edgerley and I whistled.
He was down for 12-8, which means
cards running about 90.
"What's this?" said I. "You don't
mean to say that venerable goof is doing
the 18 holes lower than I?"
"The handicap committee operates in
dark secrecy," replied Billy. "But I'm
telling yon that we gave ourselves the
benefit of the doubt. - If we'd believed
his cards, he'd havfe gone lower."
"Who scored for him?" I asked. '
"Gillespie, of course. They always
. play together."
"That's the answer," I said. "I sup
pose Mr. Gillespie is somewhere near
scratch."
"No," replied Billy, ignoring my sar
casm, "he isn't entered. He says he's
going to caddy for the old sealion. And
he's dropping hints that his boy cham
pion is a wonder."
The next day we got the first thrill. 1
was only fair that day, even for me, and
from the last hole I rushed over to the
bulletin board to see whether I had
qualified. I found a crowd. In its cen
ter stood Mr. Moore and John B. Gil
lespie. They were gesticulating and
chattering. And through it I caught the
one sentence "Moore in 72 whadda
you think of that!"
"Seventy-two net?" I asked. ,
"Net nothing " snapped back the
answer of John B. Gillespie, "72 gross
just par for the course! If you don't be
lieve it,-look at that!" He waved the
card under my nose. I inspected it.
There it was, signed by Gillespie and Dr.
Carripgton. It wasn't one of Gillespie's
heavy-handed jokes, then. The precise,
definite-miftded Carrington was not that
kind of a man.
. "There ain't no such scored' said I.
"The man's a golf machine."
That was Saturday. The Sunday news
papers reach Case Harbor at about 8
o'clock; if you want them for breakfast
you drive over to the drugstore and get
them yourself. As I entered that Sun
day morning I met Mrs. Bavin coming
out. Her face, between her smart sailor
hat and her trim summer cape, was seri
ous, but her eyes were snapping. And
before I could speak she shoved a section .
of the Sunday Bulletin into my face. My
eyes centered on a photograph o Edger
ley Moore, two columns, front page,
sporting section, before I, took in the
head:
"ELDERXY GOLFER SHOOTS IN PAR.
"Edgerley Moore, Aged 60, Who Took
Up Golf a Year Ago, Performs Amaz
ing Feat on Seagull Links."
"Do you see!" exclaimed Mrs. Bavin.
"Did you ever read 'more than a four
inch item about any of our tournaments
before? The city papers usually Just
telephone to the steward for the score.
But now and I passed John G. Gillespie
w-hen I was driving down from the city
last night. I'll Just betr " and here
Mrs. Bavin resumed her tumbling of the
newspapers. "Here it is the real estate
section he hasn't been advertising late
ly and yes! Look at that!"
Across a half page splashed an adver
tisement for Gillespie's addition to Case
Harbor, with special mention of the
prettiest, sportiest golf links on the At
lantic coast.
"We're done!" exclaimed Mrs. Bavin "
Bavin, "what it was made for?'
morosely. "We might as well .move
away. Oh, why did I ever start -that
club?"
"Well, it's apparently hatched a cham
pion anyway," I said.
"Yes, I suppose so," replied Mrs.
Bavin. I had a sense that ehe was leav
ing volumes unsaid. Then, as though
only the back-fin of her thought was
coming to the surface, she added:
"Did you know that Mr. Gillespie has
closed his house for the summer and gone
to live with Mr. Moore?"
"Well, I must say that this Damon-and-Pythias
act is the best thing I know
about Gillespie," I replied. "Anyone who
has the patience to endure that ghastly.,
old bore-
"Yes," said Mrs. Bavin, drawing out
the word in a manner which registered
again a world of thought in reserve.
When, at the end of' that week,, we
played off the matches, Edgerley Moore
proved that he was no accident. He ran
through all opposition like water through
a filter. I was struck by my one and
only spasm of real golf, and stayed to the
semi-finals, when I blew up. So I didn't
see him at work until the finals, where I
helped police the -course - for we had
drawn a crowd. Not only had our links
been for the first time Invaded by the
press, but enthusiasts motored from,
links 25 miles away to see if it could be
true and found that it was. Mr. Moore
was up against Harry Babson, our best
golfer, who is handicapped at six in
match play. Babson was in . form that
day and played his head off a birdie on
the second hole, mostly par on all the
"first round but what cotild he do
against a handicap of 12 and mechanical
ly perfect golf? Mr. Moore won, two up,
one to play.
"He's the greatest thing ever uncov
ered In golf," said John B. Gillespie when
the match was over. "The amateur
champion at 60 standing right here in
these shoes."
Going to enter in thecounty tourna
ment?" asked someone. That event was
coming off a fortnight hence" at Gore
ham: it always brings out a large entry
of high quality, for there are two or
three famous courses to our north.
"I've already entered him," said John"
B. Gillespie, ''and in the state tourna
ment, too. Maybe the national ,can wait
this year." Half of the gallery-laughed
at that, and half, like me, didn't.
When I emerged from the clubhouse,
after talking over this nine-day wonder
from 40 different angles, I met Mrs.
Bavin standing by the qorner of the
parking place.
"Look!" she said, and gave a wide,
impatient gesture of one of her long
arms toward the door of the pro's quar
ters. There, entirely surrounded by golf
writers and news photographers, " stood
John G. Gillespie talking genially and
with theatrical gestures.
"You can" see the papers 'tomorrow,
can't you?" said Mrs. Bavin. "The quaint
Seagull links and the beauty-of the har
bor at the head of every item!"
I opened the newspapers next morning
to realize that Mrs. Bavin had called the
turn. Somehow, the beauty of the coast
view from the Seagull links and the story,
of how the course had been made from
a rough farm in a year, figured in every
account. So, In two of them, did the
amazing friendship between Mr. Moore
and his caddy, coach and manager, John
B. Gillespie.
I must hurry through the next stage
of this extraordinary career. Mr. Moore
went up to ' Goreham and won quite
handily the county championship. By
tradition that is a handicap affair. The
Goreham committee, like ours, couldn't
really believe it, and handicapped him
at 9 and 6. At these figures he raced
through the tournament, defeating on
the way Maurice Naylor, who has twice
been runner-up in the national amateur
championship.
He is a picturesque figure in golf, this
Naylor: His defeat in the semi-finals by
the Ji 0-year-old unknown brought Mr.
Moore to the attention of the New York
newspapers. It was, I understood, the
dull and silly season of the year when
Journalism is looking for a sensation.
Newspapers, magazines, syndicates all
turned toward Case Harbor. Every train
seemed to bring spruce young men with
roving eyes who carried canes slung over
their forearms, and less spruce young
men with big black cameras. Daily Mr.
Moore was interviewed, photographed,
filmed. -
One thing about this interviewing
process struck me as curious. Evidently
he refused to talk about golf. True, he
was quoted extensively by one yellow
syndicate on the method by which a middle-aged
man could improve his game.
hut this. bore the earmarks of a fake;
and Dr. Carrington recognized It as a re
writing . o&s some articles by a ; famous
Scotch . professional ' which had been
printed ten years before. But appar
ently he chattered genially, diffusely and
quite in his old manner of things in
general. When the second wave of in
terviewers came over the top, Mr. Moore
had been reading a book on the cave
dwellings of the Dordogne. , This nwly
acquired knowledge he droned out while
the t eporters employed every dodge to "
make him talk golf. On the way back to
the station, some - genius among them
conceived a brilliant idea to dress up his ,
interview, which he indiscreetly Imparted
to the rest. And next Sunday's papers
had a new tag for Edgerley Moore
"The Distinguished Anthropologist Who
Became a Champion Golfer."
Next Saturday Tommie Crowder, twice
national amateur champion, came over
for a special 18-hola match. John B.
Gillespie arranged it he. seemed by now
to be arranging everything for our club.
With the ex-champion arrived not only
the gentlemen " of the press but certain
other strangers in loud, . tight - fitting
clothes and with hard jowls.- All during
the match this element squirmed through
the enormous gallery. I did not classify
them until-1 saw the flash of a green
back, heard a whisppred phrase about
odds. Then I saw that we were drawing
the professional gamblers. How they
laid their money I had no idea; if they
were backing Tommie Crowder, they
were lost. He played perfect golf that
day with one slip. On both rounds at
the dog's leg fourth he tried to drive
over the rough instead of going around
a dangerous thing, for the carry is too
long for anything but a freak drive. He
succeeded the first time; but the second
time he got into difficulties and had to
pick up. That was the turning point;
he was against a golf machine, running
perfectly. On that hole Mr. Moore went
one up and stayed there to the end. His
card was 70, breaking the record for the
course, held by himself.
On the morning1 before that match I
was practicing approach shots on the
ninth green for, like all the rest of us,
I had been filled with inordinate ambi- "
tjfn by the rise of Mr. Moore and'felt in
ny heart that if the old dodo could do it
I could. I had already reduced my card
to 90. I looked up across the fairway
and saw Mrs. Bavin was approaching
with her quick, striding walk.
"Jimmie," she said, "don't you really
think this thing has gone far enough?"
"I suppose it has. I suppose, we must
have a clean-up after he has played tn
the state championship," I said, temporiz
ing. "Jimmie Langford," announced Madge
Bavin, definitely, "we're going to have a
clean-up today!"
1 looked her square in . the eyes. They
showed that she meant it. Now, her tone
changed. It became serious, almost
awed. , '
"Jimmie," she said. "I:ve had John B.
Gillespie looked up he'd already been
locked up by the information department
of Bob's firm. He applied for a loan
when s he started Gillespie's addition.
And they turned him down. He got his
loan later from the Speche outfit you
know about them regular banking
bucket shop a pawnbrokers' Interest
and long chances. But Bob's people re
fused him mainly because he. wasn't a
good moral risk."
4 "What was the matter with him?," 1
asked. 1 (
"Well, Gillespie Isn't his name, to be
gin with. That's almost enough. Before
that he was known as Professor Hansen
and that probably wasn't his real
name, either. It's simply Irritating the
way those bank 'reports leave out the
most interesting and important things.
All they had to say about his past was
that he'd left' vaudeville because of the
curious death of an assistant on the
stage."
"Vaudeville!" said I.
"Wait," she said. "Bob saw the firm's
detectives for me, and they did some
more work. He was " Mrs. Bavin's
voice grew now almost choked "he was
a stage hypnotist! Half fake and half
real!"
"Is there, such a thing?" I asked
lightly. . -
"There is, indeed," replied Mrs. Bavin,
still serious. "I've looked that up, too.
He used to show in the west. One night
down in Texas he picked some hick Out
of the audience and put him through all
kinds of fancy gymnastic stunts. The
poor felftjw never came out of the trance
he had a weak heart and the perform
ance finished him. That's the best con
struction of the story. But there are
hints of a worse construction at any
rate. Professor Hansen was tried for
manslaughter. He crawled out of it
somehow but he quit the stage. - It ap
pears that stage hypnotism has gone out
of fashion, anyway. Then he showed up
i. in Minnesota under this name boom
real estate business, always with a
crooked slant. And now he's among tis.
Do you begin to see, Jimmie?"
A little breath of the truth blew across
my mind; for a second I felt a drawing
sensation in the roots of my hair. Mrs.
Bavin was studying my expression; it
seemed to satisfy her, for she went on:
"Jimmie, it isn't ladylike to listen
to servants' gossip, but it isn't lady
like to get into a-fight, either.. And
when a woman's in a fight up to her
ears; she's no lady. Mose, the colored
boy who takes care of Mr. .Moore he's
in love with my Cordelia. Of course, he
tells her everything. I've pumped' Cor
delia. Do you know that since those two
men went to live together Mr. Moore has
lain on the sofa for hours seeming to be
asleep, and that Mr. Gillespie has sat by
his side talking tohim?"
"But how " 1 managed to falter.
said Mrs. Bavin, ''I thought of
that. It's why I've been going to Dr.
King in the city you know the great
authority on hypnotism. Ho said at f irst
that it was just possible: now he admits
it must be so.
. "What's the end of this game?" I
asked finally.
"The end," Mts. Bavin said, "will come
when, he's sold off Gillespie's addition
and cleaned up with : his gamblers.
That's -where he went too far dragging
In the gamblers crooks always do go too
far." -
"But how can he get rid of- Mr. Moore.
-without giving the whole thing away?"
I persisted.
Mrs. Bavin grew serious again.
"Well, suicide could be suggested to
him, couldn't it? Suicide when Mr. Gil
lespie was a hundred miles away with a
perfect alibi the man is capable of any
thing don't you see that I'm probably
saving- the life of poor, foolish old Mr.
Moore.
"Madge Bavin, what is it you are go
ing to do?"
"Jimmie," she said, "I've worked hard
lashing myself up to what I'm going to
do. If anyone interposed a single objec
tion I'd get 'scared, probably, and back
out at the last moment I'm just that
much of a poor, weak woman. Keep me
to the front f the crowd keep close to
me-r-and stand by even if It means a real
fight "
John B. Gillespie, 'caddying, teed the
ball, h"anded Mr. Moore his driver,
straightened up, spoke in a quiet, even
tone, such as an expert horse trainer uses
LU UU 111 111 O.UU 11 13 cl 11 i ill tl-i .
s we followed up, I watched Moore
and Gillespie and called myself an ass
not to have suspected before. The caddy
was hanging .as close to the champion as
a policeman to a captured thief. Moore
' walked mechanically, his eyes fixed on
the'aistant ball; the roving and piercing
eye of Gillespie, now grown sinister . to
me because of my knowledge, searched
fairway, bunkers- and distant green as
though he were playing the game as
indeed he was. Arrived at the ball, he
took out a brassie spoon, handed it to his
' man, and, "Full length over that little
bunker," he said. He had scarcely fin
ished speaking before Mr. Moore ad
dressed the ball and sent it fair and true,
first soaring and then running over the
low, untrapped bunker. He lay some 75
yards trom the green, with . a nasty,
tricky approach if he elected or Gilles-
tm" aliutoH tn Tiifnh o n A run
As I look over my copy of the card to
that immortal match I realize that I must
have Txmre out of the haze which fogs
my memory at the 16th hole. Still per
fect mechanical golf was standing off
strength and genius. They were all
square. The card shows that ten holes
had already been halved. Here a streak
of genius blazed from the Englishman.
He made his longest drive of the day;
holed his iron approach not for a birdie
but for an eagle. Our champion barely
laid his second shot' to the edge of the
green. Instead of picking up Moore I
might almost say Gillespie approached
and ran down in a four. Watching Gil
lespie intently, I could see that he was
disturbed. His eyes glanced hesitantly
from right to left. The score occurred to
me. If they halved the remaining two
holes the Briton, had won. I spoke to
Mrs. Bavin then I believe it was the
first word I had addressed to her that
afternoon.
"It's Moore he's betting on," I whis
pered. "Yes' I saw " she whispered back,
almost impatiently.
"Keep me -close and listen to what
Gillespie says," she whispered. "If he
tells Mr. Moore to try to hole out "
The Briton's chip shot from that tricky
lie went wild. It stopped just at the
edge of the long, undulating green, at
least 50 feet from the hole, and with
two ridges to carry. He was shooting
five, and Moore three; in all probability
only by a miracle putt could the visitor
even get a half and carry the match to
extra holes.
" Mrs. Bavin and I, ducking through the
ropes, as was our right, crowded close
to where Gillespie stood studying the
terrain with his light, intent- eyes. He
drew out an approaching club and spoke
at last in that- even, almost monotonous
tone:
"Run it up there; a yard or so below
the hole." I heard a long breath escape '
Mrs. Bavin. '
Mechanically, Moore laid the, ball as
specified. A premature cheer, rudely
checked by the ushers, escaped from the
crowd as William Carr, the Briton, dar
ing a superb chance, tried to make it and
ran his approach shot eight feet beyond
the hole. Mr. Moore had only a three
foot putt to win.
And then, as Gillespie drew the putter
from the bag, handed it to Mr. Moore,
Mrs. Bavin stepped forward and touched
Gillespie on the. arm; he started so vlo-
(Concluded on Page 8.)