he scene of the attempt by the
men in the motor to run Eaton down. The indefiniteness of her
knowledge by whom or why the attack had been made only made it seem
more terrible to her. Unquestionably, he was in constant danger of its
repetition, and especially when--as to-day--he was outside her father's
grounds. Instinctively she hurried her horse. The great white
club-house stood above the gentle slope of the valley to the west;
beyond it, the golf-course was spotted by a few figures of men and
girls out for early-season play. And further off and to one side of
the course, she saw mounted men scurrying up and down the polo field in
practice. A number of people were standing watching, and a few motors
and traps were halted beside the barriers. Harriet stopped at the
club-house only to make certain that Mr. Avery and his guest were not
there; then she drove on to the polo field.

As she approached, she recognized Avery's lithe, alert figure on one of
the ponies; with a deft, quick stroke he cleared the ball from before
the feet of an opponent's pony, then he looked up and nodded to her.
Harriet drove up and stopped beside the barrier; people hailed her from
all sides, and for a moment the practice was stopped as the players
trotted over to speak to her. Then play began again, and she had
opportunity to look for Eaton. Her father, she knew, had instructed
Avery that Eaton was to be introduced as his guest; but Avery evidently
had either carried out these instructions in a purely mechanical manner
or had not wished Eaton to be with others unless he himself was by; for
Harriet discovered Eaton standing off by himself. She waited till he
looked toward her, then signaled him to come over. She got down, and
they stood together following the play.

"You know polo?" she questioned him, as she saw the expression of
appreciation in his face as a player daringly "rode-off" an antagonist
and saved a "cross." She put the question without thought before she
recognized that she was obeying her father's instructions.

"I understand the game somewhat," Eaton replied.

"Have you ever played?"

"It seems to deserve its reputation as the summit of sport," he replied.

He answered so easily that she could not decide whether he was evading
or not; and somehow, just then, she found it impossible to put the
simple question direct again.

"Good! Good, Don!" she cried enthusiastically and clapped her hands as
Avery suddenly ra