Mars?"

"Yes--why not?" said he.

"Pretty long holes, I should say," said I. "Mars is four thousand
miles round, isn't it?"

"You _are_ an earth-worm," he retorted, forgetting his place wholly in
his scorn for my picayune ideas. "Calling a paltry four thousand miles
long--why, you can play around that links in two hours and a half."

"Indeed?" said I. "And how long may your hours be? Everything here is
on such a magnificent scale, I suppose one of your hours is about
equal to one of our decades."

"Oh no," said Adonis. "It isn't that way at all. Fact is, we make our
hours to suit ourselves. I am merely reckoning on a basis that you
would comprehend. I meant two and a half of your hours. Any
moderately expert player can play the Mars links in that time. Take
the first hole, for instance--it's only two hundred and fifty miles
long."

"Really--is that all!" I ejaculated, growing sarcastic. "A drive, two
brassies, an approach, and forty puts, I presume?"

"For a duffer, perhaps," retorted Adonis. "Willie Ph[oe]bus does it in
six. A seventy-five-mile drive, a seventy-mile brassie, a loft over
the canal for twenty-five miles, a forty-five-mile cleak, a
thirty-mile approach, and--"

"A dead easy put of five miles!" I put in, making a pretence of being
no longer astonished.

"That's the idea," said Adonis. "Of course, everybody can't do it," he
added. "And bogie for that hole is really seven. Willie Ph[oe]bus
played too well for a gentleman, so we made him a professional. He'll
give you lessons for a thousand dollars an hour, if you want him to."

"Thanks," said I. "I'll think about it. Can he teach me how to drive a
ball seventy-five miles?"

"That depends on your capacity," said Adonis. "Some of the best
players frequently drive seventy-five miles--the record is ninety-six
miles, made by Jove himself. Willie taught him."

"For Heaven's sake!" I cried, losing my self-poise for an instant.
"What do you drive with? Olympian Gatling guns?"

"Not at all," replied Adonis. "We use one of our regular drivers--the
best is called the 'celestial catapult.' Ph[oe]bus sells 'em at the
Caddie House for five hundred dollars apiece. If you strike a ball
fair and square with the 'celestial catapult,' and neither pull nor
slice, it can't help going forty miles, anyhow."

"And how, may I ask, do the caddies find a ball that goes seventy-five
miles?"

"They don't have to. All our balls are self-finding," said Adonis.
"The b