"Dinna gang so quick, Mac," I cried. "That counts a shot. It's my turnthe noo."

And so I piled up a great double armfu' o' sand. It seemed to me thatthe higher I put the wee ba' to begin with the further I could send itwhen I hit it. But I was wrong, for my attempt was worse than Mac's. Ibroke my club, and drove all the sand inside his een, and the wee ba'moved no more than a foot!

"That's a shot, too!" cried Mac.

"Aye," I exclaimed, a bit ruefully. "I--I sort o' missed my swing, too,Mac."

We did a wee bit much better after that, but I'm no skinnykin' either Mac orI will ever play against the champion in the final round at Troon orSt. Andrews.