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 by the faithful but embarrassed Benny. The little yellow-haired midget held on to Miss Lamb's neck, her small, flushed face pressed against her protector's chin, and looked out upon the world with the light of victory in her blue eyes. The polo was exciting, at that moment, and all faces were turned toward the field; but I am sure John and I had the amazement of a great multitude in the fascinated gaze with which we met the little cavalcade.

"But, Miss Lamb, isn't that awfully risky?" I remonstrated; for I felt that it was somebody's duty to interpose for the rescue of the child.

"Not a bit!" she said. "Rosamund is a real horsewoman"; and she put Tiger into an easy lope and rode off, the baby crowing with delight, and Benny looking rather nervous as escort.

John and I desisted from our intention of visiting the victoria, and walked our horses to a point close up to the boundary, where we could follow the game better.