Kendall, very flustered, raised his driver again, swung down, dug the head of it in the earth some four inches behind the ball. “You weren’t looking at the ball,” said Ned severely. “Once more now, and _keep your eyes on the ball_.” Perhaps it was only luck, but Kendall’s next attempt resulted in a very clean forty-yard drive, and the glow of satisfaction that came to him more than atoned for what had gone before. “Good stuff!” said Ned, and the others murmured approval. Kendall tried to dissemble his delight and drew aside to make room for Ned. “Watch the way I do it,” said Ned. Kendall watched, but it is doubtful if he learned much. Ned’s club went back for a full swing, swished down, there was a clean _click_ and away sailed the white ball high and far to drop safely over the first bunker. “Rotten!” said Ned. “Not so bad; a little too high,” observed Kirk. “Good luck, Burtis.” Kendall followed Ned to where his ball had fallen and Ned handed him a midiron. “You’re going to play with three clubs until you get the hang of it. This is a midiron, Curt. Now, as you haven’t any tee to help you get under the ball, you’ve got to hit back of it; try to clip a bit of the turf. And the swing is different. Let me show you.” Ned illustrated. “Don’t try to hit very hard; just try to put the ball up near the bunker.” “Is that mound the bunker?” asked Kendall. “It is. Now see the way I swing this. Get it? Keep that wrist stiff. No, you’re hunching up your right shoulder. Don’t do that. And don’t set your muscles all stiff like that. Relax! That’s the stuff! Now then, have a shot.” Kendall missed the ball entirely twice and finally topped it so that it trickled along for about twelve feet. The next time he buried the whole head of his club six inches behind the ball and looked up apologetically at Ned. “I’m an awful duffer,” he said. “Well, you’re learning the talk, anyway,” laughed Ned. “We’re all awful duffers when we start. Go ahead now. But try and keep your eyes on the place you want to hit. That’s half the secret of golf, Curt; _keep your eye on the ball_. And it’s the hardest thing of all to learn. See if you can’t give that a nice little rap that will put it over the bunker.” And Kendall did, and again the glow of satisfaction spread through him. He laughed nervously. “I thought I was going to miss it entirely that time,” he said. “But I did keep my eyes on the ball, Tooker.” “You sure did. But don’t call me Tooker. It’s an awful name to have to listen to. Call me Ned.” “You said the other night that your name was Ted,” laughed Kendall. “Ted, Ned or Ed; it doesn’t matter. Only never Tooker. And now here’s a bit of information for your future guidance. Never climb over a bunker, Curt; it breaks it down. Further along you will observe a nice little passage left for you; see?”