The gazette-times. [volume] (Heppner, Or.) 1912-1925, 1914-08-20

big ranch house
Here, bright and early next morning,
he saw Carson start off on his morning
golfing tour with his caddy, an old
Mexican who did not look as though he
would be able to travel very far with.
out carrying, his face a perfect match
in color and texture with the golf bag
he carried.
Under Carson's arm was snugly en-
sconced new box Of golf balls.
"Always he lost so many" remarked
the gardener under whom Bronson was
at work raking the leaves and twigs
from the carefully kept lawn on one
end Of which was raised tee, from
which Bronson's golf links stretched
away. "Ah, Santa Marial And they
cost almost uno peso each Such waste
Of money!" sighed the old man, who
made less than that every day he
| worked.
Bronson was watching Carson mar
rcwly from under his tattered straw
hat, and did not reply. A red flag flut-
tered away off to the east, and the
links ran, green and undulating, broken
here and there by bunkers and spaces of
rough hillocks right by the side Of the
boundary line.
Bronson watched, his lips curling, as
he saw Carson tee his first ball and
with a long sweeping blow send the
white globuls careening across the
greensward and bunkers. But the driver
in the hands of Carson side swiped the
ball and instead of sailing toward the
first hole flag, just in sight over the
nearby hills, it scared to one side and
in a long curving parabola, swung out
of sight across the barren hillsides out
side the links, and across the interna-
tional boundary.
The ancient caddie gazed after it in
despair as though in fear lest he should
have to stir his superannuated stumps
in a search for the lost ball.
But Carson gruffly called, "Never
mindl Let it go!" and culled another
from the box that Bronson noted he
did not allow the aged Mexican to
carry, and set it upon the remade tee
and proceeded to "slice the ball"
once more, and off it sailed out of
sight on the barren hills across the
line.
Thrice and again and still again did
Carson repeat the performance, while
Bronson, watching as he raked, grew
disgusted with the apparent poor work
of the golfer, who appeared nowise
disheartened at his failure to send the
ball where it should 60, but kept on
trying.
Finally he hit it right, and away sped
the ball in graceful flight, this time
toward the first hole, and Carson strobe
away on his tour
"Always the same" muttercd the
old gardener by his side, "always the
same, Ever morning he lose one-two
It rec ball-all the time. Such waste
of good money!" He groaned as he
thought of all the mescal and frijoles
that he saw 60 flying across the hill
every day in the form Of golf balls.
"An he does not worry-not him, )"
he dolefully went on to Bronson, who,
wondering how he could ever hope to
discover anything here, still listened
with half an ear. "Much money has
he got-so he don't even 60 look for
them. Hundreds has he lost, and he
does never seem to play any better.
Even I, Yegoine, could play the silly
game better"
And off he puttered about his work,
while Bronson continued raking in
desultory fashion, his mind always upon
his problem, driving it toward possible
solution of the mystery.
The next day, and the next after
that, Bronson worked in the yard, and
each time he saw Carson stroll languid
ly out to the tee and proceed to drive
ball after ball, slicing every one with
his driver, and causing it to sail far off
to one side Of the green links.
"Well if l couldn t play any better
than that" thought Bronson, "I'd
quitl Why, he loses enough balls to
more than pay my salaryl"
And his face sank as he thought that
maybe he wouldn It get any more salary
from tha oouornmont II hn didp " Yuako