eir stride, and
without a jar. By the same token it was necessary to ride them. At odd
moments they were quite likely to give a wide sidewise bound or a
stiff-legged buck from sheer joy of life. One got genuine "horse
exercise" out of them.

The Captain, as perhaps I have said, invented these ponies himself. From
Chihuahua he brought in some of the best mustang mares he could find;
and, in case you have Frederick Remington's pictures of starved
winter-range animals in mind, let me tell you a good mustang is a very
handsome animal indeed. These he bred to a thoroughbred. The resulting
half-breeds grew to the proper age. Then he started to have them broken
to the saddle. A start was as far as he ever got, for nobody could ride
them. They combined the intelligence and vice of the mustang with the
endurance and nervous instability of the thoroughbred. The Captain tried
all sorts of men, even sending at last to Arizona for a good bronco
buster on the J-I. Only one or two of the many could back the animals at
all, though many aspirants made a try at it. After a long series of
experiments, the Captain came to the reluctant conclusion that the cross
was no good. It seemed a pity, for they were beautiful animals, up to
full polo size, deep chested, strong shouldered, close coupled, and
speedy.

Then, by way of idleness, he bred some of the half-bred mares. The
three-quarter cross proved to be ideal. They were gentle, easily broken,
and to the eye differed in no particular from their pure-blooded
brothers. So, ever since, the Captain has been raising these most
excellent polo ponies to his great honour and profit and the incidental
pleasure of his friends who like riding.

One of these ponies was known as the Merry Jest. He had a terrifying but
harmless trick. The moment the saddle was cinched, down went his head
and he began to buck in the most vicious style. This he would keep up
until further orders. In order to put an end to the performance all one
had to do was to haul in on the rope, thrust one's foot in the stirrup,
and clamber aboard. For, mark you this, Merry Jest in the course of a
long and useful life never failed to buck under the empty saddle--and
_never_ bucked under a rider!

This, of course, constituted the Merry Jest. Its beauty was that it was
so safe.

"Want to ride?" asked the Captain.

"Surely," replied the unsuspecting stranger.

The Merry Jest was saddled, brought forth, and exhibited in action.