seventh, and the first the ninth, had been complicated into a war
kitchen-garden, and James, bored with ordinary difficulties and
discomforts, had evolved the new golf.

"Come on," said he, burning with the zeal of a martyr-burner, "I'll show
you the ground."

"Can't I see it by standing up in the hammock?" I protested.

We approached the dark demesne, which was now pretty decently clothed
with potatoes, artichokes, rhubarb, raspberry-canes, marrows and even
cucumber-frames. In the midst was a large open cask which filled itself
by a pipe from a former six-inch water-hazard. Here James began to
propound the mysteries.

"The game," he said, "is a mixture of the old golf, tiddleywinks, ludo
and the race game."

"Not spillikins?" I protested. "A game I rather fancy myself at."

"For your information, please," continued James in his kindliest
military manner, "I may remark that a mashie is the club mostly
used--except when it is necessary to keep low between, say, two clumps
of potatoes."

"So as not to rouse the wireworms," I nodded. "Yes--go on."

"The conditions of the game are governed by the necessity of paying due
respect to the vegetable hazards. There is only one hole on the course."