The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 121: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THREE capacity and automobiles were beginning to line all the permissible spaces around the field. Long before the game started there was plenty to be seen. Players were starting in to warm up the mounts they would use, or riding hard for the practice on mounts they would not use. Melvin was pacing Anita, his favorite pony, around the field at an easy canter ~when he was attracted by the frantic wav- ings of a party in an automobile. They were Susie, her aunt, and Marshall. He rode up to them. “Good luck to you, old boy,” cried Mar- shall, leaning over to shake his hand. ‘No broken ankle to rob us of your play this time.”’ “Thanks, old man! How does she run?” Marshall made a comical face. “The engine keeps running and the wheels keep turning,” he laughed, ‘“‘but be- tween you and me she rattles like a dis- tracted biscuit-box and I’m afraid her en- gine will jump through her hood some day. But I’m a poor man and it’s something to have a vehicle that moves without being pushed and it’s the best I can do.” Melvin laughed. “J wish I could be rich with as graceful an ease.as you are poor,” he said. “I wouldn’t mind if I had to drive a Ford.” “T think you are rich so gracefully that it would be a great shame for you to be poor,” observed Susie with a demure smile. He bowed over his pony’s neck, then made her rear and spin around on her hind feet in that impossible way that only polo ponies seem capable of, coming down on all fours in front of Susie as if she, also, were -bowing to the lady. As he rode away it occurred to Melvin that the silly banter had driven from his mind the more serious idea that had first possessed it. The line of automobiles was, in his judgment, much too close to the play- ing-field, but the ground committee had over-ruled his objection, or, rather, had pooh-poohed his suggestion to have them lined up fifteen feet farther back. They argued that instead of three lines of spectators in front of the cars the change would simply mean added lines of them and be just as dangerous. At any rate it was-too late to do any- thing about it now. He was being called into position. A scrub team was going to Pretty looking car! DRIVES. 495 give the regulars a little exhibition warm- up. He was annoyed that he had wasted the minutes. He had not wanted to use Anita in this mix-up, but as they were about to start there was hardly time to change ponies. Well, he would ride her easily and play well back until he had an opportunity to make a change. “What on earth!” he exclaimed as he looked down the field. “Is that insane idiot Turner going to insist on pushing that fifteen hand demon through our polo ponies. I’ve told him a dozen times that’s no kind of a brute to play polo. Hey! Listen, Par- sons! Turner shouldn’t bring that black devil on to the field. enough to hold him and -the beast goes crazy the minute he rubs shoulders.” He had ridden back to the stand to speak to the chairman of the committee. The ball was already in play and the ponies mixing. “Tt’s all right, Mel,” shouted Parsons. ‘““Gaspard’s up on him. He’ll ride him easy and it’s only one chukka. He’ll—Good Heaven! There he goes!” Gaspard, it seemed, was not to have com- plete say on the matter of easy riding. The minute a pony grazed his flank the black horse climbed into the air and then plunged forward, to be reared again by Gaspard’s iron grip on the bridle. And then the un- expected happened. The bridle broke, just as a pony shot for- ward in the direction of the black. They came together with a sickening shock, all the black’s restrained strength suddenly re- leased by the snapping rein. Gaspard was thrown violently backward by the released tension and the sudden for- ward plunge. Pierce, on the pony, swung his leg over and found himself hurled be- yond the rolling bodies. The animals crashed and rolled over and over in a pounding, squealing medley of flying hoofs and biting jaws. They were suddenly fight mad, Then they rolled apart. The pony re- mained down, trying pitifully to rise. The black leaped to his feet, raging, and started full speed across the field. He was obviously blind with madness. Riders tried to snatch at the broken rein vainly. They hardly knew, in the heat of the play, what had happened, and were quite unprepared for tragedy. The black was making straight for the line of automobiles. The people in front CORMICGLOOKS G He’s not strong- (C@)