the bogey man was so fond of playing golf that he never had time to think of anything else. he lived on oatmeal water and smoked a pipe filled with cabbage leaves and chopped hay. golf was played in those days with one straight stick, and all you had to do was to knock round stones over the meadow. the bogey man was very careless, and he was always sending the golf balls into the holes where the rabbits, field mice and snakes lived. he played every day in deacon jones’ meadow lot. he used to take his stick, when he lost the balls and pry into the homes of the poor, little animals and snakes. in that way he spoiled the walls and broke the parlor furniture.

one day, the bogey man put a ball on top of an ant’s house, because he said he could strike it better. the roof of the house fell in and the ant’s aunt was so badly hurt that she never got over it.

“something must be done,” said all the snakes and rabbits and field mice and ants who lived in deacon jones’ meadow lot.

they had a convention near the old stump in the middle of the meadow, and the garter snake was the president.

“is this the person who always scares the children so?” asked the field mouse.

“no,” replied the hoot owl, who was the wisest of birds. “he is worse than that. he is the man who thinks that he knows how to play golf.”

“hoot owl,” whispered the garter snake, “you and sly fox must get rid of this terrible bogey man, who is all the time poking around our houses and making us uncomfortable.”

when the bogey man went to play golf in the pasture next day, he heard a hoarse voice away up in a tree.

“hoot man, hoot!” said the voice. “it seems to me that you really do not know how to play golf.”

the hoot owl came down from the tree all dressed up in baggy, spotted clothes. he had a pipe in his beak and a big club in one claw.

“i’ll let you know,” replied the bogey man, “that i have had games with some of the very best players in the country, and besides that i can talk scotch better than you can.”

“ho, ho,” answered the owl, “my people said hoot before there were any scotchmen. i’ve come to show you how to play the real game of golf.

“follow me,” screamed the hoot owl.

he led the bogey man to a field which was all rough. the rabbits and the field mice had been working all night making holes everywhere they could.

[96]

hoot owl says the bogey man is learning.

[97]

“why, this is no place to play golf,” said the bogey man as he took a big drink of oatmeal water.

“it’s fine,” said the hoot owl, “isn’t it, sly fox?”

sly fox came up with a whole bagful of sticks with twisted roots on the end of them. the bogey man had always played with just one straight stick. sly fox had gone into the woods, where he pulled up saplings and kept those which had the funniest and the ugliest roots.

“now, then,” said the hoot owl, “i guess that we are all ready. sly fox, you can carry the clubs.”

the hoot owl and sly fox made the bogey man use all of the queer kinds of sticks which they had brought. he had to shove the balls into holes all over the field, and then he had to spoon them out again with two or three kinds of clubs, and then shove them over to another hole. as fast as he got through with one club sly fox would take it away from him and give him another which was more twisted and curved than the one before.

“isn’t he learning fast?” said the hoot owl to sly fox with a wink.

“o, fine,” answered sly fox. “golf players are born and not made.”

[98]

although the bogey man was very tired, he tried to look happy, and said he never had so much fun in all his life. he stumbled into pits and nearly sprained his ankle. he knocked the balls into ponds and over big bumps in the meadows. nearly every time he struck a ball it would go out of sight. sly fox tried to find it, but, somehow, he never could. then the bogey man had to pay sly fox twenty-five cents for a new ball. before the day was over sly fox had sold to the bogey man the same ball 999 times. the bogey man’s hands were all blistered, and his feet were wet, and his fine clothes were all over mud. he sat down on a log and began to cry.

“i’m tired of running after those balls,” he said, “and i have, boo-hoo boo-hoo—i have spent all my money buying new ones.”

“that is too bad,” sighed sly fox. “i have an idea.”

so sly fox drove a tack into one of the balls, twisted a long piece of string around it and then drove the tack way down to the head.

“this string,” explained hoot owl, “is just as long as the field. you hit the ball with the club and the ball can’t get lost because it has a string tied to it.”

“that is very fine,” said the bogey man, wiping away his tears and taking a big drink of oatmeal water. “i wish you had thought about that before i bought those 999 balls.”

so they put the ball on the ground and gave the bogey man the ugliest and biggest club that they could find.

“hit it hard, bogey man,” said sly fox, and then he stepped behind a tree.

“yes, don’t be easy now,” screeched the hoot owl, and he flew up into the branches of the tree and put on his glasses.

[100]

the bogey man swung the club and struck the ball as hard as ever he could. the round thing went through the air so fast that you could hear it sing and when it got to the end of the field, it suddenly stopped. one end of the string was fastened to a sapling. the string kept stretching and stretching, until there was no more stretch in it and the ball fastened to the end of it came bounding back and struck the bogey man so hard in the nose that it knocked him right over. the poor bogey man dropped his club, and when he got on his feet again, he went away as fast as he could. since that he has never been seen playing golf with anybody and the animals and snakes in deacon jones’ wood are happy. some men from the city who saw sly fox and hoot owl playing thought it was really a good game and they went back and taught other people how to play it. only instead of sly fox to find the balls they hired good little boys called caddies who always find the balls, no matter how far they go, and they never think of doing anything so dishonest as to charge twenty-five cents for the same ball over and over again.

[101]