"Here, ... I'll lend you a quarter," returned Pole, growing generous.

"I'd like to see you get the money, Rube."

"Yes, we're all with you, Rube," put in Benz, and winked at the bunch.

"Do you fellows think I could stick to Dynamite?" asked Judd, cautiously. "I've ridden everythin' from hogs to bulls but I don't know about this here donkey bizness."

"Try it anyhow, Rube. We'll come in and cheer for you."

"Sure, Rube, go to it!"

"Well, ... all right. I reckon it won't do any harm to try."

"Good!" Pole edged his way over to the ticket seller. "This here fellow wants to tackle Dynamite!"

"What! That guy? Why, Dynamite'll break every bone in his body, son.

Your friend is crazy!"

"He's no piece of china, Mister!" shot back Pole. "Look him over.

I'll bet Rube can ride Dynamite!" turning and winking at the bunch.

Judd stood by, quietly, soberly.

"I'll have to speak to the manager about this," replied the ticket seller, seeing that Pole was in earnest. "Hey, George, come here a minute! This kid wants to tackle Dynamite!" He pointed a long, slim finger at Judd.

"What! Say, boy, do you know what you're goin' up against? We didn't name that donkey Dynamite fer nothin'!"

"Just the same I'd like to tackle him, sir," spoke up Judd. "I'm willin' to take all risks!"

"You heard that, gentlemen? You're my witnesses!" replied the manager, for the benefit of the crowd. "He says he's willin' to take all risks.

Are you ready fer the funeral, kid?"

"Yes," replied Judd, calling the bluff. "And where are you goin' to bury your donkey?"

The manager laughed gruffly. "Come on in an' I'll introduce you to Dynamite. Remember, twenty-five plunks are yours if you stick on Dynamite fer ten minutes. And here's the money!" He reached down inside his pocket and pulled forth a roll of bills. "I'll give the money to this policeman fer you to claim if you stick to Dynamite. If you do it'll be the first time in history,... but it can't be did, kid!

'At's all!"

The bunch filed into the tent. Judd removed his coat, disclosing a checkered shirt and a pair of suspenders. He then took off his shoes, seeming unconscious of the interested crowd about him and the t.i.tter of laughter which went the rounds. The manager stepped into the big ring, leading Judd after him. "Ladles an' gentlemen, meet Mister Judd Billings. He's a freshman in Bartlett college. An' it's the earnest wish of this management 'at he'll be able to continue his studies there after his little affair with Dynamite. Henry, bring in the mule!"

Everyone craned their necks toward the side entrance. Suddenly, with a loud, "Hee Haw!" Dynamite shot into the ring, an attendant frantically pulling at the halter. The crowd cheered.

Judd eyed the animal carefully. Dynamite was large and, from his pawing and snorting, very excitable.

Pole shut his eyes and grasped the railing that surrounded the ring, fearing the consequences.

"Poor Rube," he said.

"Poor Rube nothin'!" scoffed Benz, "Watch the fun!"

Judd's face reddened. It came over him, in a flash, that the fellows had pulled "a put up job" on him and that he was being made sport of in front of the crowd.

"If Judd Billings rides this animal successfully, this management cheerfully gives him twenty-five dollars," reminded the manager. "But he must stick to Dynamite's back for ten minutes. Everyone get your watches out. Now Judd! Now Dynamite, blow him up!"

The manager left the ring hurriedly. The attendant gave Judd the halter and also fled. Judd moved slowly, precisely, cautiously. While Dynamite hee-hawed stubbornly and tried to pull away, Judd jerked the halter fiercely, pulled the mule toward him, stepped up, grasped a long ear firmly, and swung up onto Dynamite's back. The crowd gasped and consulted their watches. The fight was on!

The moment that Judd touched Dynamite's back was a signal for the explosives to let loose. The mule bounded into the air and came down stiff-legged. But Judd had curled his legs tightly about the body and buried his toes in its flanks. His powerful hands each gripped a long ear which he twisted and squeezed at his pleasure. Dynamite bellowed with rage and shot about the ring, kicking, biting, rearing; but unable to throw off the rider.

"Great work, Rube!" shouted Benz, unable to conceal his admiration.

"That-a-boy! Stick to him. One minute's gone all ready. Only nine more!"

As mule and Judd pa.s.sed by the railing where the fellows were excited onlookers, a mighty cheer went up. Judd's face wore an expression of set determination.

Dynamite was not used to being held by the ears. He could not stick his head between his legs and roll over as he had been accustomed to.

He tried until he was almost frantic to free his head, but Judd's grip was vice-like.

Five minutes crawled slowly past and still Judd kept his seat, despite a series of bucks, plunges, side-steps, rearings, and sudden balks.

The manager clutched his watch nervously. No man had ever remained seated that long before and twenty-five dollars would eat into the night's profit.

"He can't last another five minutes," the manager told himself. "Throw yourself, Dynamite! Throw yourself!"

As if obeying orders Dynamite reared up and fell sideways.

"Look out, Rube!" shrieked the crowd.

"Gad!" cried Pole, "Look at that, will you?"

Judd had struck the ground with Dynamite but remained on top and when Dynamite struggled to his feet Judd was still on his back.

"Nine minutes gone!" somebody yelled, "Stick to it, Rube! You've got the money, kid!"

Dynamite was raving wild now. No man had ever remained seated after a tumble like that! With a final snort of rage he dashed about the ring, jumping high in the air, bucking, twisting, turning. It was no use.

Judd could not be shaken off.

"Time!" roared the crowd, hoa.r.s.ely.

The attendant rushed out to rescue Dynamite.

"Never mind, Mister," smiled Judd, perspiration trickling down his face. "Dynamite won't explode any more. He's meek as a lamb an' all in!"

True, Dynamite might just as well have been christened Talc.u.m Powder now, for all the fight there was in him. The poor donkey had no further ambitions to unseat other riders and was perfectly content to let Judd perch on his back.

"Son, you're all right!" congratulated the manager, holding out his hand. "I'm a game loser. I'm not only out twenty-five dollars but my Dynamite is all gone. A baby could ride that mule now! Officer, pay this _man_ the money. He earned it all right!"

CHAPTER X

AN ATTEMPTED HOLD-UP