"You bet I'm right!" boomed Cottle. "Ask old Wes here about me. Raised right in the same town with him, from a kid knee-high to a grasshopper! I never took any the best of it in my life, did I, Wes? No, you bet not! Remember that time I got skinned out of ten thousand bucks on the land deal? A lot of fellows would have squealed, wouldn't they? A lot of fellows would have hollered for the police; but I just laughed and gave 'em credit for being smarter than I was. I'm the same way in sport as I am in business. I believe in giving everybody credit. I win if I can, but if I can't--well, there's never any hard feelings. That's me all over. You may be able to _lick_ me at this golf thing--likely you will; but you'll never _scare_ me, that's a cinch. Probably you gentlemen play a better game than I do--been at it longer; but then I'm a lot younger than you are. Got more strength. Hit a longer ball when I do manage to land on one right. So it all evens up in the long run." Mr. Cottle was still modestly cheering his many admirable qualities when the Perkins party went in to luncheon, and the only pause he made was on the first tee. With his usual caution Uncle Billy had arranged it so that Dubuque was opposed to Southern California, and he had also carefully neglected to name any sort of a bet until after he had seen the stranger drive. Cottle teed his ball and stood over it, gripping his driver until his knuckles showed white under the tan. "Get ready to ride!" said he. "You're about to leave this place!" The club head whistled through the air, and I can truthfully say that I never saw a man of his size swing any harder at a golf ball--or come nearer cutting one completely in two. "Topped it, by gum!" ejaculated Mr. Cottle, watching the maimed ball until it disappeared in a bunker. "Topped it! Well, better luck next time! By the way, what are we playing for? Balls, or money, or what?" "Whatever you like," said Uncle Billy promptly. "You name it." "Good! That's the way I like to hear a man talk. Old Wes here is my partner, so I can't bet with him, but I'll have a side match with each of you gentlemen--say, ten great, big, smiling Iowa dollars. Always like to bet what I've got the most of. Satisfactory?" Uncle Billy glanced at Old Man Sprott, and for an instant the old rascals hesitated. The situation was made to order for them, but they would have preferred a smaller wager to start with, being petty larcenists at heart. "Better cut that down to five," said Perkins to Cottle in a low tone. "They play a strong game." "Humph!" grunted his guest. "Did you ever know me to pike in my life? I ain't going to begin now. Ten dollars or nothing!" "I've got you," said Old Man Sprott. "This once," said Uncle Billy. "It's against my principles to play for money; but yes, this once." And then those two old sharks insisted on a foursome bet as well.