Wilfred would have left them all
if he hadn't run into the tennis net. He come down like a sack of meal.
"'There!' says Ben Sutton. 'Now he's done it--broke his neck or
something. That's the way with some men--they'll try anything to get a
laugh.'
"They went and picked the poet up. He was all right, only dazed.
"'But that's one of the roads that ain't open,' says Ben. 'And besides,
you was going right toward the nasty old railroad that runs into the
cramped haunts of men. You must have got turned round. Here'--he pointed
out over the golf links--'it's off that way that Mother Nature awaits
her wayward child. Miles and miles of her--all open. Doesn't your gypsy
soul hear the call? This way for the hills and glens, thou star-eyed
woodling!' and he gently led Wilfred off over the links, the rest of the
men trailing after and making some word racket, believe me. They was all
good conversationalists at the moment. Doc Martingale was wanting the
poet to run into the tennis net again, just for fun, and Jeff Tuttle
says make him climb a tree like the monkeys do in their native glades,
but Ben says just keep him away from the railroad, that's all.
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