Mr. Munchausen

“It was indeed a narrow escape, and it tried my nerves to the full, but I extracted the ball and resumed my play in a short while, adding the lucky stroke to my score meanwhile. But I lost the match, – not because I lost my nerve, for this I did not do, but because I lifted from the lion’s heart. The committee disqualified me because I did not play from my lie and the cup went to my competitor. However, I was satisfied to have escaped with my life. I’d rather be a live runner-up than a dead champion any day.”

“A wonderful experience,” said Ananias. “Perfectly wonderful. I never heard of a stroke to equal that.”

“You are too modest, Ananias,” said Mr. Munchausen drily. “Too modest by half. You and Sapphira hold the record for that, you know.”

“I have forgotten the episode,” said Ananias.

“Didn’t you and she make your last hole on a single stroke?” demanded Munchausen with an inward chuckle.

“Oh – yes,” said Ananias grimly, as he recalled the incident. “But you know we didn’t win any more than you did.”

“Oh, didn’t you?” asked Munchausen.

“No,” replied Ananias. “You forget that Sapphira and I were two down at the finish.”

And Mr. Munchausen played the rest of the game in silence. Ananias had at last got the best of him.