“Nothing, nothing at all,” laughed Ned. “Just a joke I happened to think of, a joke on yours truly. I’m glad I did think of it, too, for I just needed a good laugh to start this match on.” “Are you going to beat him?” asked Kendall, lowering his voice. Ned, watching Frost prepare to drive, shook his head: “I don’t know, Curt. I think so, but we’ll sait and wee. If I have luck and do beat him we’ll probably win the match. Wasn’t it luck that I drew Frost? Kirk ought to win his game from Osgood without much trouble and Jim Morgan’s sure to beat his man. That would give us our three out of five. Well, coming around? Good! See you later.” Ned walked toward the tee. “That was a peach, Frost,” he said, as his opponent’s ball went arching away across the bunker. Ned’s own drive was a few yards shorter but left him on the right side of the hazard, and players and gallery started off. Kendall knew one or two of the fellows to speak to, notably Teller Sanford who had come out to watch his roommate play. Sanford ran across Kendall presently and seemed quite cordial in his rather stiff way. They kept together more or less during the match and, since neither of them knew much golf, asked each other many questions and gave what answers they could. They both were anxious that Ned should win, however, and that was a bond between them. The first hole, 230 yards, was reached in 4 by both players. Four, Teller explained, was bogey. Ned looked wise and nodded, secretly determining to find out what “bogey” might mean.