Archie hails from out West somewhere and he has the Eastern agency for a lot of stuff manufactured in Chicago. In the beginning he didn't know any of the younger members at Meadowmead and that made it easy for the Colonel to take him under his wing. The old rascal has rather a pleasant manner--in the clubhouse at least--and he talked Chicago to Archie--what a wonderful city it is and all that stuff. He talked the same way to me about Cincinnati. I watched the shearing proceed to the lumbago stage, but I didn't interfere. In the first place, it wasn't any of my business. In the second, I hadn't been introduced to MacBride. And, besides, I had a sort of curiosity to know how he would act when he was stung. He looked more like a goat than a lamb to me. One day I was sitting on the porch and MacBride came out of the locker room and sat down beside me. Colonel Jimmy was over on the extra green, practicing sidehill putts. Somehow we drifted into conversation. "Did you ever play with that old fellow over there?" said he. "A few times." "Ever beat him?" "No-o. Nor anybody else. His methods are--well, peculiar." "Darned peculiar! I don't know but that the grand jury ought to investigate 'em. If you shoot 110 at him, he's just good enough to win. If you make a 90, he's still good enough to win. He's always good enough to win. The other day I came out here and found him all doubled up with----" "Lumbago, wasn't it?" MacBride held out his hand immediately. "Both members of the same lodge!" said he. "I feel better now. He nicked me for an even hundred. What did he get you for?" Nothing cements a friendship like a common grievance. We had both been rooked by the lumbago trick and we fell to discussing the Colonel and his petty larceny system of picking on the new members. "Far be it that I should squeal," said Archie. "I hope I'm a good loser as far as the money goes, but I hate to be bunkoed. I handed over one hundred big iron dollars to that hoary old pirate--and I smiled when I did it. It hurt me worse to smile than it did to part with the frog-skins, but I wanted the Colonel to think that I didn't suspect him. I want him to regard me as a soft proposition and an easy mark because some day I am going to leave a chunk of bait lying around where that old coyote can see it. If he gobbles it--good night. Yes, sir, I'm going to slip one over on him that he'll remember even when they begin giving him the oxygen." "He'll never be trimmed on a golf course," said I. "He'll never be trimmed anywhere else. It's the only game he plays. If he sticks around this club, I'll introduce him to the Chicago method of taking the bristles off a hog. I'm not sure, but I think it's done with a hoe." "It can't be done with a set of golf clubs," said I.