Apparently aware that any violence upon the person of Pop Bradshaw would only draw the anger of the crowd, Blakeman turned and limped away. He was followed by the boos of the throng.
“Guess that ought to put a damper on his braggin’ for a while,” Lefty grinned. “I’ll bet Pop spends the rest of his life wonderin’ how Catapult got out of the mountain medder too!”
His voice died quickly away for the announcer was calling the next event. It was the bronco riding contest for girls.
“Where’s Connie?” Lefty muttered.
With one accord he and Alkali turned the chutes. They saw the girl, white-faced and grim, perched on the fence, waiting for her turn to ride.
The two cowboys crowded close enough to speak an encouraging word.
“Good luck, Connie!” grinned Lefty.
“I’ll need it,” Connie replied with a forced smile. “I’ve drawn Tanglefoot—the worst bronco in the lot.”
CHAPTER VIII
A Rescue
As Lefty and Alkali both knew well, Tanglefoot was a wild bronco which had brought the downfall of more than one ambitious rodeo rider. If Connie were able to handle him she might win the grand prize, but even the two cowboys doubted that she had the skill.