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 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.