We collected our team from the parking lot and I noticed that the restraints, though attached, had not been tightened.

The little groom holding the ponies' head looked up expectantly as we climbed aboard. "Shall I buckle up?" she asked.

"No, that's alright," Malua answered, taking the reins - and then to the team "But if there's any nonsense my beauties, on they go again! Hard!" - and with a click of the tongue and a flick of the whip we were off, the team weaving their way through the congested, homeward bound traffic, with almost no assistance from the driver.

The run out to the home of the other "Radiance" was uneventful, so far as the ponies were concerned. They knew they had several miles of winding climbing track to cover, and once we had the road to ourselves they cruised along with that smooth, swinging, ground devouring stride.

Relieved of the task of curbing them, Malua relaxed and seemed to recover some of her good spirits. Soon she began singing softly in time to the rhythmic jingle, jingle of the elbow chains, and the soft pad-pad-pad of those little flying feet, now flashing in the sunlight, now whispering through the deep green shade of the trees.

The track wandered, as lazy as the day, winding along from one lovely spot to another as if in no particular hurry to get anywhere. But in front of me, always, were those graceful, rippling, golden brown bodies, the sun flickering on the polished leather and buckles which held them so simply but so effectively controlled. It was pretty hypnotic.

Pad-pad-pad - we would flash past a gigantic Rhododendron towering above us in full bloom; jingle-jingle-jingle, and we'd be driving through the flaming center of a great clump of cannas from which dozens of huge butterflies would rise to flutter awkwardly around us.

One would settle, wings aquiver, on a golden brown shoulder, and a blonde head would shake and the harness would creak as brown arms and wrists tried to tear themselves free, until a lazy flick of Malua's whip dislodged the innocent tormentor.

Every now and then we would find ourselves in a clearing with fields on each side, or maybe an orange grove, or an orchard. Here and there we would catch a glimpse of a little thatched house tucked away in the trees, and then back again we would be in the thick woods.

I was jolted out of my reverie, and damn nearly out of the gig at the same time, by the team wheeling sharply off the track and up a garden path, with a screen of climbing roses on our right, and on our left a well-kept flower bordered lawn that sloped down to a pool. Ahead of us was the house, deck chairs beckoning in the shade of its wide verandah.

Malua reined in the team and gave a loud "Hoi" - which was answered by a "Hi" from somewhere around the back of the house. Then she got out of the gig, and as I followed suit, she reached under the seat. There was a jingling sound and she drew out a collection of chains and straps.

"Here Jimmy, help me put their hobbles on" she said, handing me a short length of chain, at each end of which was a strap each decorated with four little bells. Fascinated, I took the thing and examined it, then bent down to adjust it around the ankles of the near-side pony, who obligingly separated her feet slightly to make things easier. It was such an intriguing task that I only had one slender ankle buckled and was fixing the other by the time Malua had hobbled both the other two ponies. However, at last I had the job finished and straightened up to find that she had unhitched the team from the gig, letting the shafts drop to the ground. She then began unbuckling the bits, so now being quite an "all-around-willing-Willie", I lent a hand. Unfortunately when I started to do so I wasn't quite sure where to begin. This bit was quite a complicated arrangement of straps and so on.

"You only need to unbuckle the bit strap at the back of the neck," Malua said over her shoulder, "and then you can clear the whole thing over the top of the head. The bridle stays on."

I followed instructions and two straps then hung down from each side of the brow band, slipping through the rings as I eased the bit out of the pony's mouth. Incidentally, she had to open her jaws to the limit for me to do this, for this bit was quite a formidable affair with a great chunk of knobby wood inside the mouth. The knobs, though smooth could still be extremely unpleasant to tender skin. To give added force, the ends of the bit bar were bent down at each end, making a four-inch lever, to the bottom of which the reins were attached. Any sudden tug and the pony knew all about it - it was no wonder that they had been so well behaved. However, I soon realized that they were as unsubdued and as full of mischief as ever.

Their chins were all wet - any bit makes them dribble like blazes all the time - so I wasn't surprised when the first one to become articulate said "Oh - get the tub please Malua - and I'd like a drink too if I may." But her voice only followed her driver as she disappeared into the house, to reappear a few moments later with a shallow wooden tub full of water, which she placed on a shelf - all houses have one for this special purpose - just outside the steps leading onto the verandah.

The ponies gathered round and with closed eyes began sloshing their faces about in it, one after the other, and then looked up expectantly for Malua, who had disappeared again.

This time she returned with three shallow bowls, filled to the brim, which she also placed on the verandah rail and each pony immediately moved towards them, hobble chains jingling.

I watched the girl nearest to me bend over and begin to take a few sips, and it seemed to me that though very pretty and attractive from the onlooker’s point of view, it must be extremely awkward for the drinker. As she couldn't use her hands I thought I'd lend her mine, so, when she raised her head to take a breath, I took the bowl and held it up. She paused, looked at me for an instant, and, as I approached the bowl to her lips, began to drink looking up at me over the rim with twinkling eyes.

The other two stopped lapping and regarded me with a pleading look that would have melted an iceberg. I heard Malua say "Jimmy, you devil, you're spoiling them. You never help a pony to drink."

"But I do," I called back over my shoulder, "these ponies anyway." And the next thing I knew was that I was surrounded by those three lovely damsels, who, as they couldn't put their arms around my neck for greater encouragement, did the next best thing, wriggled their soft little bodies against me, and wheedled for a sip with laughing eyes and pouted lips. What in hell chance had I got? I don't know if you've ever given a drink of wine to a girl with her hands tied behind her back, but it's quite an experience. However, this delightful pastime was interrupted by Malua tapping me on the shoulder.

"Jimmy" she said "these little pigs will let you go on all day feeding them like that. Stop it. We've a most important deal on hand, and darn you, I have a sneaking suspicion that you are going to achieve the impossible."

"You never can tell," I replied, still engrossed in my task. But the bowl I had been passing around was now empty, so I put it down, and, avoiding those eyes and the so softly whispered, "Just a little teeny bit more, please Jimmy darling," I followed her ladyship onto the verandah, and into the living room, just as our hostess came in through another door carrying a great beaker which obviously contained more wine.

"Good heavens," she exclaimed seeing our empty hands, "where are your bowls? Haven't you had a drink yet? Malua, what a way to welcome a guest to my house. But I can soon fix that." She quickly produced three pots, filled them from the beaker, and then turning to me said, "And my name is Rosalind, but most people just call me Roz, and yours?" I told her. "Good," she said, "I like it. And now let's find out what particular reason brings Malua and you out to this joint."

We sat down and Malua explained the situation, at which Roz threw her hands in the air. "Do you mean to tell me," and her glance went from one to the other of us, "that you want to use Judy, my quite utterly hopeless Judy, as a pony?"

"That's the general idea," I grinned, "is she around?"

Roz opened her mouth wide in amazement. "She's around" she said, "around near the back of the house finishing the washing, at least she's supposed to be, but a pony! Jimmy, you're crazy, Malua shouldn't do this to you. Here let me fill your bowl again and we'll rassle this thing out. My daughter's hopeless, quite quite hopeless!

"Can she run at all?" Malua asked.

"Can she run!" Roz exclaimed, leaning forward in her chair. "She can run like the wind, the little devil. I swear she can run faster than any girl on the Island, but she won't, at least not when you want her to."

"Then hold on a moment," said Malua, tapping the ash off her cigarette, "This miserable man is a horse trader of the lowest type. He's just got one Radiance for himself at the sale today who is terrific. Between the pair of them they fooled everyone including me. And now he's after another, don't trust him a yard, in fact I'll take a bet with you right here and now that if he gets Judy too, his team will beat mine, impossible though it may sound to you, Roz!" and she took a long swig of her drink.

"No foolin'!" said my hostess "Then take her Jimmy. You can have her for nothing, but don't blame me if things become one heck of a problem.

"Fine," l said, raising my beaker, "we'll drink to that, and my success, and now how can I view this problem child?"

My question was answered by some cheerful female voices outside, and a blaze of light on the verandah as the sun caught another of those fantastic heads of hair. Then gliding, with a motion that only Suhanee could have rivaled, into the room came one of the loveliest of all the lovely creatures on this island. Things were getting a trifle out of hand. It was one thing to see a lot of gorgeous damsels as a group, "the crowd effect" was so stunning that the impact of "one" was lost, but when you got down to individuals it was a different matter, and I was beginning to wonder where I was heading, and whether after all I was as fond of Malua as I had originally thought. Everyone I'd met so far was a born witch, each apparently determined to sink the unfortunate male, and it seemed to me that unless I played them at their own game, and a bit over, I'd be reduced to a pulp.

Suhanee was a menace and now this one, as she came toward us with the same lithe grace, was just as bad, if not worse. I was very glad when her mother said, by way of introduction, "Judy, this crazy young man wants you to be a pony, and I've told him he can try and make one of you."

Judy smiled, impishly, and wiggled a bit.

"You can stop with Aunt Cynthia down in the main village, and if you're good, come home for the weekend." And then turning to me, "And Jimmy, if she doesn't come home for the weekend I'll know why, and good luck to you!"

"Now you two make yourselves comfortable while Judy and I get some things together, and she can go back with you right away. I suppose that's what you want, though I'd love you to stop for dinner and have some tennis."

"I'd love to stop too," Malua answered, "and so would the others I'm sure, but I want to get Jimmy organized. Though why I should try to organize such a disgusting old horse trader I don't know. Just look at him, Roz! Did you ever see such a look of smug contentment on anyone's face?"

"Determination is the word," I answered, sitting back, fingering my glass, and trying to look superior. "Determination and fortitude! "

"Determination my foot," Malua retorted, getting up from her chair. "I'll save time by getting my

monkeys harnessed up. Come on, Jimmy, you can go on drinking and watch."

This seemed a good idea, so I gave Roz a wink, as she refilled my cup, and followed Malua onto the verandah and sat on the top step.

Our ponies were grouped around a bed of magnificent roses - (Roz, I later discovered, was famous for them) - but when Malua called they came obediently, moving across the grass with little hobbled steps, ankle-bells jingling.

Without further order they placed themselves between the shafts, or at least the center one went between the shafts, which Malua raised and strapped to each side of her waist belt, the others stood on either side.

So quickly did Malua move, that it seemed only seconds before the outsiders were buckled too and the braces adjusted. Then each pony opened her mouth and the bits were put in and strapped in place, followed a few minor adjustments, and their mistress stood back to survey her handiwork. She seemed satisfied.

But for some reason, maybe a look in the ponies eyes, maybe some female quirk or something, I don't know, she suddenly moved round behind them and began pulling the first one's elbows back, exerting a certain amount of effort in the process. Then she moved on to the next and I saw that the first one now had her elbows linked till they almost touched. The same thing was done to the other two. The effect was striking. I thought they had stood erect before, now they were terrific!

My interest in this performance, and my in drink, which was excellent, was diverted by the return of Roz and Judy, the latter I noticed had changed from her sarong and now wore only the usual pony belt and tassel. In her hands she carried a medium sized basket, which she at once put into the gig and then returned and stood in front of me, looking mischievous and expectant.

I'd forgotten all about Roz, until I heard her say "Here you are Jimmy. And tie her up good and tight. She's a perfect little devil for getting out of things."

I turned and saw that my hostess was holding out some cords to me and that the end of one was spliced to a short strap.

"What do we do?" I asked, laughing, and a bit puzzled. "Hogtie her and throw her in with the luggage?"

"That would be a good idea," Roz replied, "but actually all you have got to do is tie her hands, put a halter on her, and she'll run behind.

So I took the cords, and as I moved towards her, Judy obediently turned her back and crossed her wrists behind her.

It was an odd feeling tying those little hands, a new experience, but it seemed quite the natural thing to do and I tied them tightly.

Suddenly it occurred to me that the other ropes hadn't been given me just for fun, and that I had to take rather elaborate precautions. The way I had tied her wrists she could perhaps get them free by spreading her elbows, and pulling her hands away from each other. It would be difficult but still possible, so I passed the cord around her elbows and drew them back towards each other. This of course made the cords around her wrists tighter.

She could wriggle out of knots could she? Then I had to prevent it, so I draped a cord over her shoulders, under her armpits and around her chest, tightened it, then laced the elbow lashing up to it, so that it couldn't slip down her arms.

I picked up the last cord, a long one with the strap at the end, and looked at Roz. "This the halter?" Roz nodded, so I buckled it around my pony's neck and going over to the gig tied the end to a convenient ring at the back of the seat.

"A very nice job, Jimmy," Roz remarked, "very neat and I should think effective. Treat her like that all the time, and don't let the little imp get you soft." I looked at Judy.

She stood there on tiptoe shoulders back, head held high, with an expression which seemed to say "well, now you've got me, and I don't mind it in the least, so what are you going to do about it."

I thought I'd adjust the halter strap a bit tighter, so I went over to her, and as I bent forward and was working at the buckle, I felt her parted lips brushing against my forehead, slowly and deliberately. Without looking up, I leaned forward pressing slightly harder, the lips pressed back. This was indeed interesting.

The End