inal match for the Cup was in full
progress. It lay between the Punjab Cavalry from Kohat and a crack
Hussar team, fresh from Home and Hurlingham, mounted on priceless
ponies, six to each man, and upheld by an overweening confidence that
they were bound to "sweep the board." They had swept it accordingly;
and although anticipating "a tough tussle with those game 'Piffer'[25]
chaps," were disposed to look upon the Punjab Cup as their own
property for at least a year to come.

[25] Abbreviation of Punjab Irregular Frontier Force.

Desmond and his men--Olliver and two native officers--knew all this
well enough; knew also that money means pace, and weight, and a
liberal supply of fresh mounts, and frankly recognised that the odds
were heavily against them. But there remained two points worth
considering:--they had been trained to play in perfect unison, horse
and man; and they were all in deadly earnest.

They had fought their way, inch by inch, through the tournament to
this final tie; and it had been a glorious fight so far. The Hussars,
whose self-assurance had led them to underrate the strength of the
enemy, were playing now like men possessed. The score stood at two
goals all, and electric shocks of excitement tingled through the
crowd.

Theo Desmond was playing "back," as a wise captain should, to guard
the goal and ensure the completest control over his team; and his
mount was a chestnut Arab with three white stockings and a star upon
his forehead.

* * * * *

This unlooked-for circumstance requires explanation.

A week earlier, on returning from his morning ride to the bungalow
where Paul and his own party were staying, Desmond had been confronted
by Diamond in a brand-new saddle-cloth marked with his initials; while
Diamond's _sais_, with a smile that displayed every tooth in his head,
salaamed to the ground.

"Well, I'm shot!" he exclaimed. "Dunni,--what's the meaning of this?"

The man held out a note in Colonel Buchanan's handwriting. Desmond
dismounted, flung an arm over the Arab's neck, and opened the note
with a strange quickening of his breath.

The Colonel stated, in a few friendly words, that as Diamond was too
good a pony to be allowed to go out of the Regiment, he and his
brother officers had decided to buy him back for the Polo Club. Major
Wilkinson of the Loyal Monmouth had been uncommonly decent over the
whole thing; and, as captain of the team, Desmond woul