ith a groan.

"You sit still a while," said the boy in the straw hat, "and I'll drop
down and get that ball for you." Suiting the action to the word, he
lowered himself over the ledge, and slid down the bank to the beach. He
dropped the golf ball in his pocket, after examining it with deep
curiosity, and started back. But the return was less easy than the
descent had been. The bank was gravelly, and his feet could gain no
hold. Several times he struggled up a yard or so, only to slip back
again to the bottom.

"I tell you what you do," called West, leaning over. "You get a bit of a
run and get up as high as you can, and try and catch hold of this stick;
then I'll pull you up."

The other obeyed, and succeeded in getting a firm hold of the brassie,
but the rest was none so easy. West pulled and the other boy struggled,
and then, at last, when both were out of breath, the straw hat rose
above the ledge and its wearer scrambled up. Sitting down beside West he
drew the ball from his pocket and handed it over.

"What do they make those of?" he asked.

"Gutta percha," answered West. "Then they're molded and painted this
way. You've never played golf, have you?"

"No, we don't know much about it down our way. I've played baseball and
football some. Do you play football?"

"No, I should say not," answered West scornfully. "You see," more
graciously, "golf takes up about all my time when I haven't got some
lesson on; and this is the worst place for lessons you ever saw. A chap
doesn't get time for anything else." The other boy looked puzzled.

"Well, don't you want to study?"

West stared in amazement. "Study! Want to? Of course I don't! Do you?"

"Very much. That's what I came to school for."

"Oh!" West studied the strange youth dubiously. Plainly, he was not at
all the sort of boy one could teach golf to. "Then why were you trying
for the football team awhile ago?"

"Because next to studying I want to play football more than anything
else. Don't you think I'll have time for it?"

"You bet! And say, you ought to learn golf. It's the finest sport
going." West's hopes revived. A fellow that wanted sport, if only
football, could not be a bad sort. Besides, he would get over wanting to
study; that, to West, was a most unnatural desire. "There isn't half a
dozen really first-class players in school. You get some clubs and I'll
teach you the game."

"That's very good of you," answered the boy in the straw hat, "and