But he made no mistake.

The sound of the strokes rose clear and sharp; the ball flew straight.

He drove it between the posts, and the players streamed in behind as though through the gateway of a beleaguered town.
He had scored the first goal of the game at the end of the first chukkur.

He cantered back to change his pony.

But this time he rode along the edge of the stand, since on this side the ponies waited with their blankets thrown over their saddles and the syces at their heads.
He ran his eyes along the row of onlookers as he cantered by, and suddenly Violet Oliver leaned forward.