Connie was smiling by the time she reached the ranch. She knew exactly what to do. Calling Lefty and Alkali she asked them casually if bets were running heavy on the bulldogging event.
“Sure, Blakeman’s goin’ to lose his shirt,” Lefty grinned. “He’s been coverin’ everything in sight.”
“He hasn’t a chance against Catapult,” added Alkali with satisfaction.
“That’s just the point I was about to bring up,” said Connie quietly. “Supposing another steer should be substituted for Catapult?”
“There’s no chance of that,” declared Lefty. “Pop Bradshaw entered old Catapult two weeks ago.”
“Well, I’ve just learned something which will interest you. Pop plans to substitute another steer for Catapult—one which resembles him in appearance, I judge.”
Connie then repeated every word of the conversation she had heard in the restaurant.
“Why, the dirty crook!” exclaimed Lefty. “No wonder Blakeman was so willin’ to cover all bets. He thought he’d clean up pretty!”
“We got to do something about this!” muttered Alkali. “Let’s protest to the committee.”
“An’ spoil all the fun?” said Lefty. “No, I got a better idea! We’ll kidnap old Catapult tonight and sneak him into the rodeo barns! Then Pop can’t squawk without givin’ himself and the whole scheme away.”