The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1932-11-16
MeekenT MdRDERSl,a,ts sz sEh

/ What he had said Of his favorite
amusements mountain climbing.
exploring. big game hunting-led
Averill to believe that he would pre-
fer play as arduous as hard work.
BY the solemnity with which Stat
lander produced his clubs, it was
evident that no st. Andrews pro
took his game more seriously.
ATOW Cousin Amos Peabody, as
IN it happened, also took himself
seriously and Tom might have said
the two would make a perfect pair.
But Cousin Amos, though a pre-
cisionist, was not, like Statlander.
silent one.
Every detail Of the greens, the
technique Of teeing of, the action
of other players, the positions of
his opponents when he was playing,
was subject to fluent and critical
comment.
His face pink, his eyes shining,
he addressed himself to observing
every rule and bylaw of correct
golf-and to seeing that others did
likewise.
Statlander, glunly estimating the
distance between the twelfth tee
and the first bunker, paused with
the air Of one who endures much
1or particularly explicit lecture.
My dear sir, I am sure you will
not mind my calling attention to
the fact that you habitually drop
your club too low. Holding 1t as
you do, you can not hope to get dis
lance in your drives!
Thomas, you, too, should mark
this point well. Always remember,
my boy, that your club should be
parallel with the ground at the
beginning Of your stroke"
Sensing the growing fury of his
business associate, Tom soon heart
lily wished that one or the other of
them had stayed at home.
He could ignore the westerner's
sullenness and admire his logged,
even game-or he could play up to
Cousin Amos pride in his possible
skill and youthful energy. But to
reconcile the two proved more and
more hopeless.
When the explosion, which he
dreaded, finally came, for all its
violence, it brought the sense of
relief which follows a long-awaited
defamation.
Cousin Amos, Of course, was its
reason. The direct cause was a
patronizing comment upon the idi-
otto carelessness of getting into a
sand-trap.
For some time Statlander had
been ominously quiet. Now he
stopped, his face darkly flushed as
Linda had seen it the night before.
His voice seemed almost throt-
tied; it quivered so with represssed,
concentrated fury as he damned
Cousin Amos for an interfering,
laxative old buSybody.
That worthy, blinking in aston
ishment, stood with putter hanging
from limp fingers. BY a roll of his
eyes he disavowed any connection
with this unexpected outburst. His
air Of innocent surprise seemed to
be the last straw.
Before Tom could intervene Stat
lander raised the club he had been
brandishing and by single pas
sionate exertion of strength snapped
1t in two, then hurled the pieces into
the 0earhv rough
With final sulphurous epithet,
he turned on his heel and strobe
away.
TOR moment the others stood
Il staring after him, then Averill
began cropping for phrases that
would express his regret for the
occurrence.
do not apologize, Thomas" said
Cousin Amos severely, the rudy
flush fading slowly though his eyes
still started from his head in sur
prise. 1T is not your fault that
this-um-unmannerly person So
er-lost his self-control.
Certainly can not understand
how comment upon Such-hm!-
such an obviously poor stroke should
infuriate him. 1t was, Thomas, an