“But I didn’t do it alone,” he declared. “Merriwell deserves as much or more credit, for he sent it out of the bunch, and gave me my chance at it.” “You fellows must have played together a great deal,” said Harden. “You work together perfectly.” Frank laughed. “We never played together in a game before,” he said. “I didn’t know Diamond played polo till a short time ago.” “It’s remarkable!” smiled St. Ives, who was delighted over the work of his team. “And old Coffin Head is right in the game.” “You bet!” cried Merry. “He is an old dandy! I wouldn’t swap him for Liner now!” “But he has not done such work this season. He is in his old-time trim, and I believe two-thirds of it comes from his rider.” Diamond touched Frank’s arm, and drew him aside. “Say, Frank,” he whispered, “do you know you came near getting a crack over the head?” “Sure,” nodded our hero. “Well, take my advice and look out for that Fenton. I saw him when he struck at you, and I know he would have struck just as quick if his mallet had been made of iron.” “I’ll watch out for him, Jack.” “Do it, and I’ll keep my eyes open myself.” Lock had strained his side twisting in the saddle for a stroke, and a fellow by the name of Hawley was substituted. Kimball and Stone both rushed to the stable to change ponies, and Hawley called for another pony in the place of the one Lock had ridden. Of the Meadowfairs, Fenton was the only one who retained his mount. Harden was the only Springbrook man who made a change. His pony had not acted satisfactorily, although it was considered a fairly good animal. But it is an old saying that “the more a man knows about polo ponies the less he knows about them,” and the paradox is an indisputable truth. Nearly all polo ponies are Western bred, and have broncho blood in them. A broncho is unreliable at best. For a thousand times he may serve you perfectly, and then, when you least expect such a thing, for no apparent reason, he may prove utterly unreliable. Ponies for expert players must have lots of speed and good blood in them, but it is necessary that they should be tough and hard to injure. As for the game of polo, there is no other sport in which the nervous force, cool decision and quick judgment of man are coupled to such an extent with the natural instincts of the horse. Polo, properly played by man, with ponies thoroughly trained and keyed up to the highest tension, is a game which possesses just danger enough to make it attractive to men of nerve. It requires a cool head, quick eye, infinite perseverance and marvelous horsemanship. The chief qualifications of an expert polo player are the ability to measure distance while riding at top speed, the knowledge when and where to race, and the judgment and skill to play a waiting game at times. The best player should be a past master of all the strategies and tactics of a cavalry horseman.