"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 titter 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!"