AT THE FAIR
It was the first of October, and Saturday. The day before the varsity
had played its first football game of the season, trouncing Needham, 48
to 0. The work of Benz at fullback, who was endeavoring to fill the
famous Bob's position, was a feature of the game. Time after time he
tore off long runs through the left side of the line and mainly because
there was no man like Judd on the opposing team to stop him. Cateye's
work at left guard had made that side of the line as solid as a stone
wall. Judd sat quietly by the sidelines, notebook in hand, jotting
down different pointers on the game as they occurred to him. He was
eager to learn, so eager! But would he ever know enough about the game
to make the first team?
To-day, Saturday, marked a day of rest for the eleven. Coach Phillips
never allowed his men to work out the day after a game. Accordingly
the fellows looked about for some new form of recreation.
"I'll tell you, fellows!" suggested Benz, struck by a new idea, "This
is the last day of the fair at Tarlton. Let's all attend in a bunch!"
The suggestion met with unanimous approval. Saturday was the only day
that the students were allowed to visit town without a special permit.
"Great stuff! Let's start!" shouted Curns.
"All right, we'll meet on the campus at ten this morning and hoof it to
town."
"Oh, I say, Benz! Have a heart! I left my walking stick at home."
"Come on, glove stretcher, don't be a quitter," pleaded Benz, "I've
another idea! Let's ask Rube to go along. We'll have no end of fun.
He's a regular side show by himself!"
"With the menagerie thrown in!" sniffed Pole.
"What d'ya say?" persisted Benz, "Shall we invite him?"
"Yea!"
"All right, then. Ten o'clock, fellows!"
Ten o'clock found all of the bunch collected except Pole, Judd and
Cateye. Everyone was anxious to start.
"Why don't those nuts hurry up?" growled Potts, stamping about,
restlessly.
"Here they come, Pole and Rube! I wonder where Cateye is? Say, we
sure will have some fun with Rube if he isn't around. He always takes
Rube's part!" cried Benz, joyfully.
"Cateye couldn't come. Too much work to do!" shouted Pole, when in
hearing distance. "But I brought Rube."
"Good enough! Come on, bunch. Let's beat it into town now. It's only
three miles and we can make it before noon!"
The party started off at a rapid gait. Judd swung along easily,
despite his weight, taking the lead. Not much was said until half the
distance had been traversed. About this time there began to be
stragglers who could not keep the pace that Judd was unconsciously
setting.
The fellows exchanged winks. Such a joke to be outwalked by a rube!
Benz passed the word along: "For heaven's sake, guys, keep up to Rube's
pace if it takes all the pep you've got! If this news ever gets back
to college, ..."
But the faster gait of the fellows only spurred Judd to shake forth
another reef, so that without knowing it he was rapidly tiring the
bunch.
"And I thought I was in condition!" panted Benz.
"My legs are long, but,--" began Pole, then shook his head helplessly.
"Oh, what's the use!"
"Only another mile, guys!" called Benz, cheerfully, glancing slyly at
Judd. "Some exercise, eh Rube?".
"You're right! One ought to do this every day. I'm kind of out of
practice now, but I reckon I'll be in form coming back!"
"Great express trains! Did you hear that?" whispered Curns, wiping
perspiration from his forehead. "I'll be hanged if I try to keep the
pace of this rube goin' back! I never was cut out for a long distance
runner!"
"I'm on my last legs," groaned Potts, to Benz.
"I know it's only half a mile more but this pace is too hot. I'll have
to drop out. Tell the folks at home I died a brave death."
"You sprained your ankle," hinted Benz, himself eager for a chance to
rest.
"So I did!" cried Potts, happily grasping at any strategic ruse which
might stop the line of march. "Oh, my ankle! Fellows, help! I've
turned my ankle! Wow! No, not my left one, my right! Oh, my! Oh,
my!"
"What a pitiful accident!" sympathized Benz, soberly, removing Potts'
shoe and rubbing the ankle roughly. At the same time he winked slyly
at the bunch.
Momentarily checked, the fellows threw themselves flat upon their backs
and inhaled long, deep breaths of the refreshing air. All, save Judd.
He strode about in circles, anxious to be off again.
"I'd give a dime to get these kinks out of my legs," he muttered,
slowly.
"I'll raise you five on my ankle, Rube," groaned Potts in fake agony.
A half hour of delicious rest elapsed before Benz, as medicine man,
declared his patient, Potts, able to stand upon his pins again and
undertake the treacherous journey townward. During this time every
member of the party had sufficiently recovered his sea legs to trust
themselves to a half mile jaunt. Judd, restless and extremely desirous
of completing the trip, redoubled his speed.
Potts kept up well for the first hundred yards, then began to hobble
painfully. "My ankle, Rube!" he moaned. "Have some consideration!"
"Pardon me, I'd plumb forgotten that you bruised your shin!" Judd
slowed up. Fifteen minutes later an exhausted looking party dragged
themselves into Tarlton.
"Stranger, can you direct me the shortest way to a free lunch?" asked
Pole, hailing a passer-by.
"And a free bed?" added Potts.
"Walker's lunch room next block down," informed the stranger, gruffly.
"That's just the place for us! Get the name? W-a-l-k-e-r's lunch.
Zowie! Lead me to it!" cried Oole, a big, good-natured Hollander, who
played left tackle on the varsity. "Jus' give me a chance to feed my
face! Yah!"
After the fellows had partaken of a good meal they felt revived enough
to attend any fair, and inspired by Walker's lunch they walked another
half mile to the fair grounds.
Everything was going full blast when they arrived. Merry-go-rounds,
ferris wheels, confetti stands, lemonade and taffy booths, were all
reaping their harvests. Even the fat man was entertaining large
audiences. The fellows had a thoroughly good time and took in almost
every sight on the grounds. Judd had been kidded and made fun of until
he was followed about by a troop of youngsters who thought he was a
clown employed by the fair people. Judd was really embarrassed and
noticeably awkward.
At four o'clock the bunch were about to leave when Pole chanced to
sight a tent before which a big crowd had collected.
"What's over there, fellows? We haven't been in that tent yet. Let's
see what's up!"
Curiosity ruled the day and the bunch trooped over in front of the tent.
"Hump! Nothin' but a horse show!" scoffed Curns, disgustedly, "I'm
goin', fellows."
"Hold on, what's he saying?" cried Benz, calling attention to the man
on the platform.
The bunch grew attentive.
"Ladles an' gentlemen. Las' but not least we 'ave with us Dynamite,
the stubbornest donkey 'at ever lived! No human bein' has ever been
able to stick on Dynamite's back fer more than three minutes. To any
man who kin ride Dynamite fer ten minutes wid out gittin' thrown, this
here management offers the fab'lous sum o' twenty-five dollars!
Twenty-five dollars,--tink of it! Jes' fer ridin' Dynamite. 'At's
all. Seems easy, don't it? Las' performance Dynamite only throwed
three men an' one of 'em had a rib busted. Remember, this management
is not responsible fer no injuries or deaths resultin' from ridin'
Dynamite. If any man here wants ter tackle Dynamite he comes at his
own risk. The show begins in five minutes. Think it over, gents.
Here's an easy twenty-five bucks if you want it. But
remember,--Dynamite, ain't ever been ridden!"
"By the great hornspoons!" whispered Benz in Pole's ear. "Here's the
chance of our lives to have a circus with Judd. Let's get the rube to
tackle Dynamite. Of course he'll get thrown but think of the fun of
seein' it!"
"But he might get killed or injured!" faltered Pole.
"Nonsense! A man as physically fit as Rube isn't going to get busted
up by falling off a donkey. Come on, let's get him to try out
Dynamite!"
Pole finally consented. "Say, Rube," he said, "You can ride Dynamite!
Why don't you go in an' try it? That'd be the easiest twenty-five
bucks you ever earned!"
"I was just thinkin' of that myself," replied Judd, hesitatingly.
"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 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!"
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.
"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!"