``It is possible that I over corrected,'' he said ruefully. Each of the four wayward shots cost him two strokes. So he wound up with a dozen.

``It was a nice round figure, that 12,'' he said as he headed for the clubhouse, not too much perturbed.

From the standpoint of the army of duffers, however, this was easily the most heartening exhibition they had had since Ben Hogan fell upon evil ways during his heyday and scored an 11 in the Texas open. The idol of the hackers, of course, is Ray Ainsley, who achieved a 19 in the United States Open. Their secondary hero is another pro, Willie Chisholm, who drank his lunch during another Open and tried to blast his way out of a rock strewn gully. Willie's partner was Long Jim Barnes, who tried to keep count.

``How many is that, Jim?'' asked Willie at one stage of his excavation project.

``Thirteen,'' said Long Jim.

``Nae, man,'' said Willie, ``ye must be countin' the echoes.'' He had a 16.

Palmer's dozen were honestly earned. Nor were there any rules to save him. If there had been, he would have found a loophole, because Arnold is one golfer who knows the code as thoroughly as the man who wrote the book. This knowledge has come in handy, too.

His first shot in the Open last year landed in a brook that flowed along the right side of the fairway. The ball floated downstream. A spectator picked up the ball and handed it to a small boy, who dropped this suddenly hot potato in a very playable lie.