few first-class
polo-ponies. Then there were the ponies of thirty teams that had entered
for the Upper India Free-for-All Cup--nearly every pony of worth and
dignity, from Mhow to Peshawar, from Allahabad to Multan; prize ponies,
Arabs, Syrian, Barb, country-bred, Deccanee, Waziri, and Kabul ponies of
every colour and shape and temper that you could imagine. Some of them
were in mat-roofed stables, close to the polo-ground, but most were
under saddle, while their masters, who had been defeated in the earlier
games, trotted in and out and told the world exactly how the game should
be played.

It was a glorious sight, and the come and go of the little, quick
hooves, and the incessant salutations of ponies that had met before on
other polo-grounds or race-courses were enough to drive a four-footed
thing wild.

But the Skidars' team were careful not to know their neighbours, though
half the ponies on the ground were anxious to scrape acquaintance with
the little fellows that had come from the North, and, so far, had swept
the board.

"Let's see," said a soft gold-coloured Arab, who had been playing very
badly the day before, to The Maltese Cat; "didn't we meet in Abdul
Rahman's stable in Bombay, four seasons ago? I won the Paikpattan Cup
next season, you may remember?"

"Not me," said The Maltese Cat, politely. "I was at Malta then, pulling
a vegetable-cart. I don't race. I play the game."

"Oh!" said the Arab, cocking his tail and swaggering off.

"Keep yourselves to yourselves," said The Maltese Cat to his companions.
"We don't want to rub noses with all those goose-rumped half-breeds of
Upper India. When we've won this Cup they'll give their shoes to know
us."

"We sha'n't win the Cup," said Shiraz. "How do you feel?"

"Stale as last night's feed when a muskrat has run over it," said
Polaris, a rather heavy-shouldered grey; and the rest of the team agreed
with him.

"The sooner you forget that the better," said The Maltese Cat,
cheerfully. "They've finished tiffin in the big tent. We shall be wanted
now. If your saddles are not comfy, kick. If your bits aren't easy,
rear, and let the saises know whether your boots are tight."

Each pony had his sais, his groom, who lived and ate and slept with
the animal, and had betted a good deal more than he could afford on the
result of the game. There was no chance of anything going wrong, but
to make sure, each sais was shampooing the legs of his pony to the last
min