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 raced before them, caught the ball with a swinging, back-handed stroke and drove it directly toward his opponent's goal. Instantly whirling his mount, Avery raced away after the ball, and with another clean stroke scored a goal. Every one about cried out in approbation. "He's very quick and clever, isn't he?" Harriet said to Eaton. Eaton nodded. "Yes; he's by all odds the most skillful man on the field, I should say." The generosity of the praise impelled the girl, somehow, to qualify it. "But only two others really have played much--that man and that." "Yes, I picked them as the experienced ones," Eaton said quietly. "The others--two of them, at least--are out for the first time, I think." They watched the rapid course of the ball up and down the field, the scurry and scamper of the ponies after it, then the clash of a melee again. Two ponies went down, and their riders were flung. When they arose, one of the least experienced boys limped apologetically from the field. Avery rode to the barrier. "I say, any of you fellows, don't you want to try it? We're just getting warmed up." Harriet glanced at the group Avery had addressed; she knew nearly all of them--she knew too that none of them were likely to accept the invitation, and that Avery must be as well aware of that as she was. Avery, indeed, scarcely glanced at them, but looked over to Eaton and gave the challenge direct. "Care to take a chance?"