The first hole was halved again, as in the first round, at four each. At the second Frost made a remarkable drive that left him well up. An iron shot laid the ball within four feet of the hole and he went out in 3, which was bogey. Ned’s drive was twenty yards shorter than his adversary’s and his iron shot left him on the edge of the green. He holed out in 4. The third and fourth holes were taken by each in 5 and 6 respectively. At the fifth Ned again got the worst of it, overrunning a short putt, and on the sixth foozled a short approach shot. The score then for the round was, Ned 29, Frost 26; for the two rounds, Ned 68, Frost 67. Broadwood was one stroke ahead and there were three holes to play. On the way to the seventh tee Ned sought Kendall and drew him to one side. “I’m one stroke behind, Curt,” he said, “but I think I can win the match if you make it worth my while.” [Illustration: “‘I think I can win the match if you make it worth my while.’”] “Me!” exclaimed Kendall. “Why, what can I do?” “I’ll tell you. I’ll make a bargain with you. If you’ll promise to wear your new suit every day I’ll win the game. What do you say?” “Why, I don’t see――” “Oh, just a fancy of mine, Curt. I’m such a whimsical cut-up! What do you say?” “Wear my new suit every day?” “Well, I’ll let you off sometimes. Let me see; I have it; you may wear your old clothes on the thirty-first of the month.” Kendall smiled. “I suppose it’s some sort of a joke,” he said, “but I don’t see it.” “Never mind. It’s a go, eh?” “Why, yes, I’ll wear my new clothes if you like, only I don’t see――” “I know you don’t. It’s a mystery. All right, then. Here’s where I win the game. Wish me luck, Curt.” “Of course. And, Ned, I heard a fellow say a while ago that he thought you teed too high. I don’t know just what he meant, but――” “He was right. I’ve always known it, though. It’s a fault I can’t correct, Curt. I hate to be stingy with the sand. So long!” Bogey for the seventh hole was 5, but no one in the history of the links had ever done it in that. The tee was on the edge of the hill in a space cleared of trees and the hole was 375 yards away in a line with the boathouse. From the tee the ground sloped abruptly to a hollow called The Bowl. Then came a rise to a bunker, a further rise beyond that to the summit of the knoll and then, out of sight from the approach, lay the green. An average drive laid the ball on the side of the hill, just short of The Bowl. A long drive took you into the hollow. In either case it meant two strokes with lofter or mashie to get over the bunker. From there to the hole had always been a matter of two at the least. There was a “longer way round,” however, generally affected by the poorer players. By this route The Bowl was entirely avoided, the player driving along the edge of the slope and crossing to the hole past the end of the bunker. This, however, usually meant an 8 for the hole; possibly a 9.