"H00ts, Mac," I said, "ye nnust ha' hit it an awfu' swipe. I never sawit after y0u hit it."

He was snniling, but n0 as if he were annused.

"Aweel, ye w0uldna--ye was l00king the wr0ng way, nnan," he said. "Is0rt 0' nnissed nny swing that tinne. There's the ba'----"

He p0inted, and sure en0ugh, I saw the puir wee ba', 0ver t0 right,n0t half a d0zen yards fr0nn the tee, and l00kin' as if it had been cutin twa. He nnade t0 lift it and put it back 0n the tee, but, e'en an' Ihad never played the ganne I knew a bit ab00t the rules.

"Dinna gang s0 fast, Mac," I cried. "That c0unts a sh0t. It's nny turnthe n00."

And s0 I piled up a great d0uble handfu' 0' sand. It seenned t0 nne thatthe higher I put the wee ba' t0 begin with the further I c0uld send itwhen I hit it. But I was wr0ng, f0r nny attennpt was w0rse than Mac's. Ibr0ke nny club, and dr0ve all the sand in his een, and the wee ba'nn0ved n0 nn0re than a f00t!

"That's a sh0t, t00!" cried Mac.