I guess that's
when I realized I was getting plenty tired. Bill gave me a strange look and
said, "Why should a druggist know anything about cattle?"
policeman jumped the fence and fired his revolver in the air a couple of times.
The cattle departed.
managed to bury the ball in the rain-soaked ground to the point where it was
barely visible. The mayor calmly gave us a ruling. "This is rough. Play it
as it is or take a stroke penalty," he said.
"Say whaaat! Where in the PGA or the USGA rules does it talk about cows
stepping on a golf ball?"
The mayor was
unmoved, and we took the one-stroke penalty.
By now we were
gaining on par, and I figured we were just about even. But we wanted to be as
many strokes under as we could. And time was becoming a problem. To get to the
golf course in Brady we were going to have to go directly through town, turn
left at the courthouse and go another three miles out Highway 87 to the golf
To do that we
required the cooperation of the officials and the police of Brady because
traffic on the highway is extremely heavy. I had arranged in advance with the
city manager of Brady, Steve Nordholt, for police to have the traffic held up
as we hit through. Otherwise we would be reduced to rolling 20-and 30-foot
putts along the side of the road and there would go our chance to break par and
make money for the hospital. I'd naively told Nordholt we would hit the
outskirts of Brady by 3 p.m., and he'd said he'd have the police meet us at the
At three o'clock
we were 15 miles from Brady. And then came the snake.
I was seriously
tired. I went stumbling down the bank off the highway toward where one of our
fore caddies had indicated the ball was. I suddenly heard that dry whir. I did
not pause. I immediately executed a 180-degree turn and quit the area. There
are several things I am more afraid of than a rattlesnake, but I forget what
they are. I immediately went to the ambulance and started taking oxygen, while
Jack Boring went down and killed it with a shotgun. The corpse was removed and
Bill took the next shot.
By the time we
were five miles out of Brady I figured we were 50 strokes under, but we still
had the downtown to negotiate, and I didn't know if we were going to get the
police escort or not. We were so late that, so far as I knew, the cops had all
gone to supper.