The conqueror braced himself against the saddle with a
trembling hand and shook his head.
"Not for me," he said, "I ought to pay you--ten times that much for the
sport--compared to this polo is nothing."
"Ah," muttered those who overheard, "polo! That explains it!"
"Then take the horse," said Werther, "because no one else could ride
him."
"And now any one can ride him, so I don't want him," answered Woodbury.
And Werther grinned. "You're right, boy. I'll give him to the iceman."
The big grey man, William Drew, loomed over the heads of the little
crowd, and they gave way before him as water divides under the prow of a
ship; it was as if he cast a shadow which they feared before him.
"Help me through this mob," said Woodbury to Werther, "and back to my
box. Devil take it, my overcoat won't cover that leg."
Then on him also fell, as it seemed, the approaching shadow of the grey
man and he looked up with something of a start into the keen eyes of
Drew.
"Son," said the big man, "you look sort of familiar to me. I'm asking
your pardon, but who was your mother?"
The eyes of young Woodbury narrowed and the two stood considering each
other gravely for a long moment.
Pages:
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32