herd of deer or antelopes; they are
beautiful animals in the full enjoyment of life and vigour, of health
and strength; they are intensely alive. Something of this kind passed
through my mind, in all probability, and, combined with the delightful
sensation any strong man feels in the pause after great exertion,
disposed me well towards my fellows and towards mankind at large.
Besides we had won the last game.

"You look pleased, Mr. Griggs," said Miss Westonhaugh, who had probably
been watching me for a moment or two. "I did not know cynics were ever
pleased."

"I remember who it was that promised to crown the victors of this match,
Miss Westonhaugh, and I cherish some hopes of being one of them. Would
you mind very much?"

"Mind? Oh dear no; you had better try. But if you stand there with your
coat on, you will not have much chance. They are all mounted, and
waiting for you."

"Well, here goes," I said to myself, as I got into the saddle again. "I
hope he may win, but he would find me out in a minute if I tried to play
into his hands." We were only to play the best out of three goals, and
the score was "one all." All eight of us had fresh mounts, and the
experience of each other's play we had got in the preceding games made
it likely that the game would be a long one. And so it turned out.

From the first things went badly. John Westonhaugh's fresh pony was very
wild, and he had to take him a breather half over the ground before he
could take his place for the charge. When at last the first stroke was
made, the ball went low along the ground, spinning and twisting to right
and left. Both Kildare and Isaacs missed it and wheeled across to
return, when a prolonged scrimmage ensued less than thirty yards from
their goal. Every one played his best, and we wheeled and spun round in
a way that reminded one of a cavalry skirmish. Strokes and back-strokes
followed quickly, till at last I got the ball as it came rolling out
between my horse's legs, and, hotly pursued, beyond the possibility of
making a fair stroke, I moved away with it in front of me.

Then began one of those interminable circular games that all polo
players know so well, round and round the battlefield, riding close
together, sometimes one succeeding in driving the ball a little, only to
be foiled by the next man's ill-delivered back-stroke; racing, and
pulling up short, and racing again, till horses and riders were in a
perspiration and a state of mad