“It’s Catapult, Alkali, sure as you’re a cow nurse!” he muttered. “He’s standin’ in up to his belly, a-swishin’ flies with his tail.”
The three conspirators crept slowly around the little lake to the rear of the place where Catapult’s presence was suspected.
“It’s him!” exclaimed Lefty. “Get your rope ready, Alkali, and if you nail him, tie the other end to this here tree. Then I’ll wade out and shoo him in.”
The rope swished through the air and landed fairly around the big steer’s head. Lefty waded out toward the frightened animal, circling around him and splashing water with his cupped hands. Connie watched anxiously because she was afraid that Catapult might turn upon the cowboy and gore him with his sharp horns. But instead. Catapult bolted headlong for shore.
“Keep him circlin’ ’round the tree,” Lefty called to Alkali as he followed the steer ashore.
The two cowboys drove Catapult around and around the tree until his head banged into it. Then they roped his front and hind legs together. Catapult fell to the ground and rolled over on his side.
“Now come on with them gunnysacks,” Lefty said exaultantly.
Alkali chuckled as he helped his friend bind the pads on the steer’s feet.
“Guess we better bring up our hosses before we untie this here bovine,” he chuckled. “He’d make us feel like a tail to a kite a hoofin’ it.”
Alkali disappeared into the darkness and soon returned, riding his own horse and leading the other two.