CHAPTER XVI
THE LADY AND THE BUNKER
The afternoon invited the eyes to far, blue horizons, and as Evelynstood up and shook loosely in her hand the sand she had taken from thebox, she contemplated the hazy distances with satisfaction beforebending to make her tee. Her visitors had left; Grant had gone east toschool, and she was driven in upon herself for amusement. Her movementswere lithe and swift, and when once the ball had been placed in positionthere were only two points of interest for her in the landscape--theball itself and the first green. The driver was a part of herself, andshe stepped back and swung it to freshen her memory of itscharacteristics. The caddy watched her in silent joy; these were not thefussy preliminaries that he had been used to in young ladies who playedon the Country Club links; he kept one eye on the player and backed offdown the course. The sleeves of her crimson flannel shirt-waist wereturned up at the wrists; the loose end of her cravat fluttered in thesoft wind, that was like a breath of mid-May. She addressed the ball,standing but slightly bent above it and glancing swiftly from tee totarget, then swung with the certainty and ease of the natural golfplayer. Her first ball was a slice, but it fell seventy-five yards downthe course; she altered her position slightly and tried again, but shedid not hit the ball squarely, and it went bounding over the grass. Atthe third attempt her ball was caught fairly and sped straight down thecourse at a level not higher than her head. The caddy trotted to whereit lay; it was on a line with the one hundred and fifty yard mark. Theplayer motioned him to get the other balls. She had begun her game.
The fever was as yet in its incipient stage in Clarkson; players werefew; the greens were poorly kept, and there were bramble patches alongthe course which were of material benefit to the golf ball makers. Butit was better than nothing, John Saxton said to himself this brightOctober afternoon, as he stood at the first tee, listening to thecheerful discourse of his caddy, who lingered to study the equipment ofa visitor whom he had not served before.
"Anybody out?" asked John, trying the weight of several drivers.
"Lady," said the boy succinctly. He pointed across the links to whereEvelyn was distinguishable as she doubled back on the course.
"Good player?"
"Great--for a girl," the boy declared. "She's the best lady playerhere."
"Maybe we can pick up some points from her game," said Saxton, smilingat the boy's enthusiasm. He had been very busy and much away from town,and this was his first day of golf since he had come to Clarkson.Raridan had declined to accompany him; Raridan was, in fact, at workjust now, having been for a month constant in attendance upon hisoffice; and Saxton had left him barricaded behind a pile of law books.Saxton was slow in his golf, as in all things, and he gave a good dealof study to his form. He played steadily down the course, noting fromtime to time the girl that was the only other occupant of the links. Shewas playing toward him on the parallel course home, and while he had notrecognized her, he could see that she was a player of skill, and hepaused several times to watch the freedom of her swing and to admire thepretty picture she made as she followed her ball rapidly and withevident absorption.
He was taking careful measurement for a difficult approach shot from thehighest grass on the course, when he heard men calling and shouting inthe road which ran by one of the boundary fences of the club property. Adrove of cattle was coming along the road, driven, as Saxton saw, byseveral men on horseback. It was a small bunch bound for the city.Several obstreperous steers showed an inclination to bolt at thecrossroads, but the horsemen brought them back with much yelling and agreat shuffling of hoofs which sent a cloud of dust into the quiet air.Saxton bent again with his lofter, when his caddy gave a cry.
"Hi! He's making for the gate!"
One of the steers had bolted and plunged down the side road toward thegate of the club grounds, which stood open through the daytime.
"You'd better trot over there and close the gate," said Saxton, seeingthat the cattle were excited.
The boy ran for the gate, which lay not more than a hundred yardsdistant, and the steer which had broken away and been reclaimed with somuch difficulty in the roadway bolted for it at almost the same moment.Saxton, seeing that a collision was imminent, began trotting toward thegate himself. The steer could not see the boy who was racing for thegate from the inside, and boy and beast plunged on toward it.
"Run for the fence," called Saxton.
The boy gained the fence and clambered to the top of it. The steerreached the gate, and, seeing open fields beyond, bounded in and madeacross the golf course at full speed. He dashed past Saxton, who stoppedand watched him, his club still in his hand. The steer seemed pleased tohave gained access to an ampler area, and loped leisurely across thelinks. Evelyn, manoeuvering to escape a bunker that lay formidablybefore her, had not yet seen the animal and was not aware of theinvasion of the course until her caddy, who, expecting one of her longplays, had posted himself far ahead, came plunging over the bunker'sridge with a clatter of bag and clubs. The steer, following him with anamiable show of interest, paused at the bunker and viewed the boy andthe young woman in the red shirt-waist uneasily. One of the drovers wasin hot pursuit, galloping across the course toward the runaway member ofhis herd, lariat in hand. Hearing an enemy in the rear, the steer brokeover the lightly packed barricade, and Evelyn's red shirt-waist provingthe most brilliant object on the horizon, he made toward it at a livelypace.
The caddy was now in full flight, pulling the strap of Evelyn's bag overhis head and scattering the clubs as he fled. A moment later he hadjoined Saxton's caddy on top of the fence and the two boys viewedcurrent history from that point with absorption. Meanwhile Evelyn wasmaking no valiant stand. She gave a gasp of dismay and turned and ran,for the drover was pushing the steer rapidly now, and was getting readyto cast his lariat. He made a botch of it, however, and at the instantof the rope's flight, his pony, poorly trained to the business, buckedand tried to unseat his rider; and the drover swore volubly as he triedto control him. The pony backed upon a putting green and bucked again,this time dislodging his rider. Before the dazed drover could recover,Saxton, who had run up behind him, sprang to the pony's head, and as theanimal settled on all fours again, leaped into the saddle and gatheredup bridle and lariat. The pony suddenly grew tired of making trouble, inthe whimsical way of his kind, and Saxton impelled him at a rapid lopetoward the steer. John was bareheaded and the sleeves of his outingshirt were rolled to the elbows; he looked more like a polo player thana cowboy.
Meanwhile Evelyn was running toward a bunker which stood across herpath; it was the only break in the level of the course that offered anyhope of refuge. She could hear the pounding of the steer's hoofs, andless distinctly the pattering hoofbeat of the pony. She had had a longrun and was breathing hard. The bunker seemed the remotest thing in theworld as she ran down the course; then suddenly it rose a mile high, andas she scaled its rough slope and sank breathlessly into the sand,Saxton cast the lariat. With mathematical nicety the looped rope cut theair and the noose fell about the broad horns of the Texan as his forefeet struck the bunker. The pony stood with firmly planted hoofs,supporting the taut rope as steadfastly as a rock. The owner of the ponycame panting up, and another of the drovers who had ridden into thearena joined them.
"Here's your cow," said Saxton. The steer was, indeed, any one's for thetaking, as he was winded and the spirit had gone out of him. "You won'tneed another rope on him; he'll follow the pony."
"You threw that rope all right," said the dismounted drover.
"An old woman taught me with a clothes line," said John, kicking hisfeet out of the stirrups; "take your pony."
"Where's that girl?" asked one of the men.
"I guess she's all right," answered Saxton, walking toward the bunker."You'd better get your cow out of here; this isn't free range, youknow."
He mounted the bunker with a jump and looked anxiously down into thesand-pit.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Saxton. You see I'm bunkered. Is it safe
to comeout?"
"Is it you, Miss Porter?" said Saxton, jumping down into the sand. "Areyou hurt?"
"No; but I'll not say that I'm not scared." She was still panting fromher long run, and her cheeks were scarlet. She put up her hands to herhair, which had tumbled loose. "This is really the wild West, after all;and that was a very pretty throw you made."
"It seemed necessary to do something. But you couldn't have seen it?"
"Another case of woman's curiosity. Perhaps I ought to turn into apillar of salt. I peeped! I suppose it was in the hope that I might playhide and seek with that wild beast as he came over after me, but youstopped his flight just in time." She had restored her hair as shetalked. "Where is that caddy of mine?"
"Oh, the boys took to the fence to get a better view of the show.They're coming up now."
Evelyn stood up quickly, and shook her skirt free of sand.
"I need hardly say that I'm greatly obliged to you," she said, givinghim her hand.
Saxton was relieved to find that she took the incident so coolly.
She was laughing; her color was very becoming, and John beamed upon her.His face was of that blond type which radiates light and flushes into akind of sunburn with excitement. There was something very boyish aboutJohn Saxton. The curves of his face were still those of youth; he hadnever dared to encourage a mustache or beard, owing to a disinclinationto produce more than was necessary of the soft, silky hair which coveredhis head abundantly. He had a straight nose, a firm chin and a braveshowing of square, white teeth. His mouth was his best feature, for itexpressed his good nature and a wish to be pleased,--a wish that shonealso in his blue eyes. John Saxton was determined to like life andpeople; and he liked both just now.
"Are you entirely sound? Won't you have witch-hazel, arnica, brandy?"
"Oh, thanks; nothing. I've got my breath again and am all right."
"But they always sprain their ankles."
"Yes, but I'm not a romantic young person. I'll be sorry if that caddyhas lost my best driver."
"He's out on the battlefield now looking for it," said John, indicatingtheir two caddies, who were gathering up the lost implements.
"I think you're away," John added, musingly.
"Yes; for the club house."
"That's poor golf, to give up just because you're bunkered. And yet mycaddy said you were the greatest."
They walked over the course toward the club house, discussing theirencounter.
"What hole were you playing when the meek-eyed kine invaded the field?"
"Oh, I was doing very badly. I was only at the fourth, and breaking allmy records," said John. "I was glad of a diversion. The gentlefootprints of that steer didn't improve the quality of this course," headded, looking about. The ground was soft from recent rains, and thehoofs of the animal had dug into it and marred the turf.
"It's a rule of the club," said Evelyn, "that players must replace theirown divots. That can hardly be enforced against that ferocious beast."
"Hardly; but he was easily master of the game while he remained withus." The caddies had recovered the scattered equipment of the players,and were following, discussing the incidents of the busiest quarter ofan hour they had known in their golfing experience.
Evelyn turned suddenly upon John.
"Did I look very foolish?" she demanded.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."
"Yes, you do, Mr. Saxton. A woman always looks ridiculous when sheruns." She laughed. "I'm sure I must have looked so. But you couldn'thave seen me; you were pretty busy yourself just then."
"Well, of course, if I'm asked about it, I'll have to tell of yoursprinting powers; I'm not sure that you didn't lower a record."
"Oh, you're the hero of the occasion! I cut a sorry figure in it. Isuppose, though, that as the maiden in distress I'll get a littleglory--just a little."
"And your picture in the Sunday papers."
"Horrors, no! But you will appear on your fiery steed swinging thelasso."
He threw up his hands.
"That would never do! It would ruin my social reputation."
"In Boston?"
"No; down there they'd like it. It would be proof positive of thewoolliness of the West. Golf playing interrupted by a herd of wildcattle--cowboys, lassoes--Buffalo Bill effects. Down East they're alwayslooking for Western atmosphere."
"You don't dislike the West very much, do you?" asked Evelyn. "We aren'tso bad, do you think?"
"Dislike it?" John looked at her. He had never liked anything so much asthis place and hour. "I altogether love it," he declared; and then hewas conscious of having used a verb not usual in his vocabulary.
"And so you learned how to do all the cowboy tricks up in Wyoming?"Evelyn went on. "I wish Annie Warren had seen that!" and she laughed;it seemed to John that she was always laughing.
"I wasn't very much of a cowboy," John said. "That is, I wasn't verygood at it." He was an honest soul and did not want Evelyn Porter tothink that he was posing as a dramatic and cocksure character. "Roping acow is the easiest thing in the business, and then a tame, foolish,domestic co-bos like that one!"
"Co-bos! If this is likely to happen again they ought to provide a boxof salt at every tee."
When Evelyn had gone into the club house, John gathered the caddies intoa corner and bestowed a dollar on each of them and promised them otherbounty if they maintained silence touching the events of the afternoonin which he had participated. They and the drovers were the onlywitnesses besides the more active participants, and he would have totake chances with the drovers. Then, having bribed the boys, he alsothreatened them. He was walking across the veranda when he met Evelyn,whose horse he had already called for.
"If you're not driving, I'd be glad to have you share my cart."
"Thanks, very much," said John. "The street car would be rather a heavyslump after this afternoon's gaiety."
"I spoiled your game and endangered your social reputation; I can hardlydo less."
John thought that she could hardly do more. He had known men whom girlsdrove in their traps, but he had never expected to be enrolled in theirclass. It was pleasant, just once, not to be walking in the highway andtaking the dust of other people's wheels--pleasant to find himselftolerated by a pretty girl. She was prettier than any he had ever seenat class day, or in the grand stands at football games, or on theobservation trains at New London, when he had gone alone, or with asober college classmate, to see the boat races.
Deep currents of happiness coursed through him which were not allbecause of the October sunlight and the laughing talk of Evelyn Porter.He had that sensation of pleasure, always a joy to a man of conscience,which is his self-approval for labor well performed. He had workedfaithfully ever since he had come to Clarkson; he had traveled much,visiting the properties which the Neponset Trust Company had confided tohis care; and he had already so adjusted them that they earned enough topay taxes and expenses. He had effected a few sales, at prices which theNeponset's clients were glad to accept. He had never been so happy inhis work. He had rather grudgingly taken this afternoon off; but here hewas, laughing with Evelyn Porter over an amusing adventure that hadbefallen them, and which, as they talked of it and kept referring to it,seemed to establish between them a real comradeship. He wondered whatRaridan would say, and he resolved that he would not tell him of thehasty termination of his golfing; probably Miss Porter would prefer notto have the incident mentioned. He even thought that he would not tellRaridan that she had driven him to town. It was not for him to interposebetween Warry Raridan, a man who had brought him the sweetestfriendship he had ever known, and the girl whom fate had clearlyappointed Warry to marry.
As they turned into the main highway leading townward, a trap camerapidly toward them.
"Miss Margrave's trap," said Evelyn, as they espied it.
The figures were not yet distinguishable, though Mabel's belongings werealways unmistakable.
"Then that must be one of 'The Men'?"
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John was angry at himself the moment he had spoken, for as the trap camenearer there was no doubt of the identity of Mabel's companion. It wasWarry. Evelyn bowed and smiled as they passed. Mabel gave the quick nodthat she was introducing in Clarkson; Saxton and Raridan lifted theirhats.
"Miss Margrave has a lot of style; don't you think so, Mr. Saxton?"
"Apparently, yes; but I don't know her, you know;" and he wondered.
Warry Raridan's days were not all lucky. He had been keeping his officewith great fidelity of late. He had even found a client or two; and hehad determined to rebuke his critics by giving proof of his possessionof those staying qualities which they were always denying him. He hadbeen hard at work in his office this afternoon, when a note came to himfrom Mabel, who begged that he would drive with her to the Country Club.He had already thought of telephoning to Evelyn to ask her if she wouldnot go with him, but had dropped the idea when he remembered his newresolutions; it was for Evelyn that he was at work now. But Mabel was afriendly soul, and perfectly harmless. It certainly looked verypleasant outside; the next citation in the authorities he wasconsulting,--Sweetbriar _vs._ O'Neill, 84 N. Y., 26,--would lead himover to the law library, which was a gloomy hole with wretchedventilation. So he had given himself a vacation, with the best grace andexcuse in the world.