A SORRY SPECIMEN 169 



his stock of endurance and hardiness by his struggle for 

 existence on the plains, and for this game he is, perhaps, 

 the equal of any pony, whatever his breeding, and within 

 the limits of the polo-field his speed is as great some 

 good judges say greater. That is an open question. He 

 is fast enough. 



When he is taken off the cars on arrival here from his 

 familiar haunts on the cattle-ranges, he is the sorriest, 

 gauntest, most miserable equine specimen one can find in 

 a day's tramp. He doesn't look worth a peck of oats. 

 But he will reward your care. In a month or two you 

 would never guess your plump, handsome, able little pony 

 to be the same individual. You cannot kill a bronco. No- 

 other animal will recover from such Strapazen, as the 

 Germans phrase it. And when he has undergone the tort- 

 ure of docking, and is finally invested with the pig-skin,, 

 nothing but the brand remains of the ragged little hero of 

 the plains. 



The pony is used to a single gag-bit ; but he is tracta- 

 ble in his own odd way, and not a few will learn to work 

 perfectly in a snaffle. So many of our polo -players re- 

 quire the bridle as a means of support that the loose rein 

 of the cowboy will by no means do. The perfect polo- 

 rider has not yet made his appearance. Under him the 

 bronco would more quickly become the perfect polo- 

 pony. It would take but a few months' training to teach 

 him to guide by the legs alone, if need be. Indeed, his 

 Indian master made him do just this. He learns to fol- 

 low the ball in a few days. There is no sport in which 

 training would be better rewarded than in polo, and 

 though it would be useless to aim at the delicacy of the 

 haute ecole for the sharp runs and stops of polo make 

 this as practically impossible as it is in hunting still, 

 given a rider with perfect seat, without a suspicion of 



