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A GAME OF POLO. 307
A number of lively episodes and passes and some
splendid feats of horsemanship fill up the game
toward the last. It is evident that in spite of the
fine playing of two of the He'ike', the Genji have the
advantage of coolness and practice. One of the reds
has been put hors du combat, with a bruised right
arm and a broken spoon. The tilt for the last ball
is at hand. All the balls are over and out; one
alone remains. To bag the last ball is even a greater
honor than the first. Now for the final tug Eleven
!
men and horses after one tiny ball ! Now backward,
now forward, now in mid-air, tossed on the top of
the netted sticks like a ball on a fountain jet,
now
hurled back a dozen horse-lengths
! See how they
dash to it ! What a clash and mass of horse legs,
manes, heads, gilt saddle-flaps, with clanging of metal
stirrups, banging of spoons It reminds one of the
!
battle of the centaurs with the Lapithae, at the marriage
of Hippodamia and Pirithous. Snap a spoon
!
has been crushed by a hoof, and a white-hat is unhurt,
but hors du combat.
" "
Hai ! hai ! hai ! shouts a
red-hat, and the ball is thrown by a back stroke far
on toward the goal. Out dashes another red from
the mass of centaurs. His helmet on his shoulders,
his top-knot all awry, his hair loose, his face streaming
with perspiration, his eye flashing, yet cool and
sure of triumph, he defiantly awaits his rival. The
spoon of one is within a foot of the prize, when,
with a yell, he lifts it and sends it flying through
and fifty feet beyond the wickets. The applause
is tumultuous, and in it even the dignified daimios,