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 passed 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, hoarsely. 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 Talcum 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.