The Clicking of Cuthbert

round--nothing depending on it except a measly ball--and on the seventh

he pulls me up and claims the hole simply because I happened to drop my

niblick in the bunker. Oh, well, a tick's a tick, and there's nothing

more to say, I suppose."

The Sage shook his head.

"Rules are rules, my boy, and must be kept. It is odd that you should

have brought up this subject, for only a moment before you came in I

was thinking of a somewhat curious match which ultimately turned upon a

question of the rule-book. It is true that, as far as the actual prize

was concerned, it made little difference. But perhaps I had better tell

you the whole story from the beginning."

The young man shifted uneasily in his chair.

"Well, you know, I've had a pretty rotten time this afternoon

already----"

"I will call my story," said the Sage, tranquilly, "'The Long Hole',

for it involved the playing of what I am inclined to think must be the

longest hole in the history of golf. In its beginnings the story may

remind you of one I once told you about Peter Willard and James Todd,

but you will find that it develops in quite a different manner. Ralph

Bingham...."

"I half promised to go and see a man----"

"But I will begin at the beginning," said the Sage. "I see that you are

all impatience to hear the full details."

       *       *       *       *       *

Ralph Bingham and Arthur Jukes (said the Oldest Member) had never been

friends--their rivalry was too keen to admit of that--but it was not

till Amanda Trivett came to stay here that a smouldering distaste for

each other burst out into the flames of actual enmity. It is ever so.

One of the poets, whose name I cannot recall, has a passage, which I am

unable at the moment to remember, in one of his works, which for the

time being has slipped my mind, which hits off admirably this age-old

situation. The gist of his remarks is that lovely woman rarely fails to

start something. In the weeks that followed her arrival, being in the

same room with the two men was like dropping in on a reunion of

Capulets and Montagues.

You see, Ralph and Arthur were so exactly equal in their skill on the

links that life for them had for some time past resolved itself into a

silent, bitter struggle in which first one, then the other, gained some

slight advantage. If Ralph won the May medal by a stroke, Arthur would

be one ahead in the June competition, only to be nosed out again in

July. It was a state of affairs which, had they been men of a more

generous stamp, would have bred a mutual respect, esteem, and even

love. But I am sorry to say that, apart from their golf, which was in a

class of its own as far as this neighbourhood was concerned, Ralph

Bingham and Arthur Jukes were a sorry pair--and yet, mark you, far from

lacking in mere superficial good looks. They were handsome fellows,

both of them, and well aware of the fact; and when Amanda Trivett came

to stay they simply straightened their ties, twirled their moustaches,

and expected her to do the rest.

But there they were disappointed. Perfectly friendly though she was to

both of them, the lovelight was conspicuously absent from her beautiful

eyes. And it was not long before each had come independently to a

solution of this mystery. It was plain to them that the whole trouble

lay in the fact that each neutralized the other's attractions. Arthur

felt that, if he could only have a clear field, all would be over

except the sending out of the wedding invitations; and Ralph was of the

opinion that, if he could just call on the girl one evening without

finding the place all littered up with Arthur, his natural charms would

swiftly bring home the bacon. And, indeed, it was true that they had no

rivals except themselves. It happened at the moment that Woodhaven was

very short of eligible bachelors. We marry young in this delightful

spot, and all the likely men were already paired off. It seemed that,

if Amanda Trivett intended to get married, she would have to select

either Ralph Bingham or Arthur Jukes. A dreadful choice.

       *       *       *       *       *

It had not occurred to me at the outset that my position in the affair

would be anything closer than that of a detached and mildly interested

spectator. Yet it was to me that Ralph came in his hour of need. When I

returned home one evening, I found that my man had brought him in and

laid him on the mat in my sitting-room.

I offered him a chair and a cigar, and he came to the point with

commendable rapidity.

"Leigh," he said, directly he had lighted his cigar, "is too small for

Arthur Jukes and myself."

"Ah, you have been talking it over and decided to move?" I said,

delighted. "I think you are perfectly right. Leigh is over-built.

Men like you and Jukes need a lot of space. Where do you think of

going?"

"I'm not going."

"But I thought you said----"

"What I meant was that the time has come when one of us must leave."

"Oh, only one of you?" It was something, of course, but I confess I was

disappointed, and I think my disappointment must have shown in my

voice; for he looked at me, surprised.