Spirit of the links

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THE SPIRIT OF THE LINKS
The four British golfers found things rather dull
for the next two days, for nothing in particular
happened while they were running through fifteen
hundred miles of woods and prairie. On Saturday
morning they got out of the train at San Antonio,
Texas, in time for breakfast, and the same evening
they reached Laredo, the Mexican border, where
their luggage was examined. Spanish being the
prevailing language, this process proved rather
troublesome, especially as the officials had varying
and peculiar views as to the goods on which duty
should be paid. Some of the party had to pay it
on their golf clubs, and others escaped. The train
had hardly got going again when it was pulled up
on account of an obstruction in front, and it was
three hours before a further advance was made, the
impediment being a freight - train which had run
off the track. By this time Kirkaldy was sighing
for a ride on the North British, and White was
hoping that he might be allowed the privilege of
making his last journey on earth on the beautiful
South-Western. But there was more adventure to
come.
The four great. British golfers had heard awful
tales of Mexicans and what they were capable of,
but they understood the place was more civilised
now — must be, as there was golf there. In the
dead of night, while the famous quartette were
wrapped in slumber, when White found himself
back on to his drive, when Herd had nothing but
good luck for a whole season, when Jones was
pipping one Braid for the championship nearly
every time, and when the fourth of the party of
British golfers was doing a round on the links in