the captain - a courtesy title, bestowed because he was president of
the Maraposa Yacht Club. "I was just interested in the clean way the
beggar dived after that fish. Flounder, wasn't it?"

"Yes, though usually the birds are glad enough to get a moss-bunker.
Well, the fish will soon be a dead one, I suppose."

"Yes, food for the little ospreys, I imagine. Well, it's a good death
to die - serving some useful purpose, even if it's only to be eaten.
Gad! I didn't expect to get on such a gruesome subject when we started
out. By the way, speaking of killings, I expect to make a neat one
to-day on this cup-winners' match."

"How? I didn't know there was much betting."

"Oh, but there is; and I've picked up some tidy odds against our friend
Carwell. I'm taking his end, and I think he's going to win."

"Better be careful, Gerry. Golf is an uncertain game, especially when
there's a match on among the old boys like Horace Carwell and the crowd
of past-performers and cup-winners he trails along with. He's just as
likely to pull or slice as the veriest novice, and once he starts to
slide he's a goner. No reserve comeback, you know."

"Oh, I've not so sure about that. He'll be all right if he'll let the
champagne alone before he starts to play. I'm banking on him. At the
same time I haven't bet all my money. I've a ten spot left that says
I can beat you to the clubhouse, even if one of my cylinders has been
missing the last two miles. How about it?"