He wasn't a wild kid. He was scared. He knew he was doing something dangerous - but he knew it would help the campaign. It made an amusing gambit at the open-air ball park convention meeting that morning.

"While campaigning for my brother," he said, "I was invited to a ski meet in Wisconsin. The local chairman said if I came to the top of the ski jump, I could meet and talk to people. When I got on top, the people hollered for me to jump. It was either jump, or if my father found out, I'd have to go back to Hyannis Port and lick stamps for the rest of the campaign.

"It's summer now, and there's no snow, so you can't do that to me."

"Since it is summer, and this is Rodeo country, we do have a bronc for you to ride," Hugh Lemire said. "Would you mind?"

"After going down that ski jump, nothing really matters much," Ted said. He gave a talk on farm problems, but the conventioneers were already thinking about the arena that afternoon.

The Rodeo was underway as Ted changed into borrowed cowboy clothes in a trailer behind the chutes. When he could only get his cowboy boots halfway on, a dozen cowboys offered to loan him theirs.

"You shouldn't let the kid ride the horse. He'll get hurt. Don't do it," an old cowboy muttered as Ted tried on the boots. Somebody gave him chaps, spurs, and a hat.

"I've got to have a horse that bucks," Ted said, walking bowlegged toward the chutes.

"Do you want to go first?"

"I don't want to go at all. Let me watch one first."

The first rider was thrown off almost immediately. "Getting off looks easy. I don't have to learn anything about getting off. But I'd like to stay on until we're into the arena.

"What do I do when I get on?"

"Just jab those spurs into him about three times as he comes out, and fan him with your hat."

His mouth was tight - he really was scared as he handed Hooten his wallet. "Here goes Buck Kennedy. I hope I get out of this alive.

"Will this horse buck?" he asked the cowboy who was helping him get on the horse? "It isn't a clunker? Would he be here if I weren't here? Are you sure he'll buck? All this won't be worth anything if I don't get thrown into the air. I'll be goddamned mad if he just walks out of the chute."

The helper reassured him. "If his brother has the kind of guts the kids has, he'll be a great President," another cowboy commented as Ted settled on the horse.

"Somebody special will be coming out on the next horse," the announcer said. The chute opened. Holding his free hand high, Ted gave the horse a couple of jabs as it bucked out of the chute. The horse unloaded him on the third jump, 5 1/2 seconds later. It was a creditable riide, and they cheered as he limped from the arena. "That sure stretches me out," he said. In the trailer, his hands were shaking.

At the convention that night, there was a big hand, and a big laugh when, introduced as one of Montana's best bronc riders, he limped onto the stage. The limp was real. His right thigh was so bruised, and his leg so stiff he could hardly get into the Reber's plane to fly to Billings that night. George Larson's photo of Ted on the bronc made the newspapers throughout the U.S., Time, Life, and became a campaign-ordeal classic. Ted sold a lot of people that day.