Brand Blotters

Black MacQueen rolled a cigarette and sauntered toward the other outlaw.

"I reckon you better saddle up and take a look over the Flattops, Dunc.

The way I figure it Lee's posse must be somewhere over there. Swing around

toward the Elkhorns and get back to report by to-morrow evening, say."

Boone looked at him in an ugly manner. "Nothin' doing, MacQueen."

"What's that?"

"I'm no greaser, my friend. Orders don't go with me."

"They don't, eh? Who's major domo of this outfit?"

"I'm going to stay right here in this valley to-night. See?"

"What's eatin' you, man?"

"And every night so long as Melissy Lee stays."

MacQueen watched him with steady, hostile eyes. "So it's the girl, is it?

Want to cut in, do you? Oh, no, my friend. Two's company; three's a

crowd. She's mine."

"No."

"Yes. And another thing, Mr. Boone. I don't stand for any interference in

my plans. Make a break at it and you'll take a hurry up journey to kingdom

come."

"Or you will."

"Don't bank on that off chance. The boys are with me. You're alone. If I

give the word they'll bump you off. Don't make a mistake, Boone."

The Arkansan hesitated. What MacQueen said was true enough. His

overbearing disposition had made him unpopular. He knew the others would

side against him and that if it came to a showdown they would snuff out

his life as a man does the flame of a candle. The rage died out of his

eyes and gave place to a look of cunning.

"It's your say-so, Black. But there will be a day when it ain't. Don't

forget that."

"And in the meantime you'll ride the Flattops when I give the word?"

Boone nodded sulkily. "I said you had the call, didn't I?"

"Then ride 'em now, damn you. And don't show up in the Cache till

to-morrow night."

MacQueen turned on his heel and strutted away. He was elated at his easy

victory. If he had seen the look that followed him he might not have been

so quiet in his mind.

But on the surface he had cinched his leadership. Boone saddled and rode

out of the Cache without another word to anybody. Sullen and vindictive he

might be, but cowed he certainly seemed. MacQueen celebrated by frequent

trips to his sleeping quarters, where each time he resorted to a bottle

and a glass. No man had ever seen him intoxicated, but there were times

when he drank a good deal for a few days at a stretch. His dissipation

would be followed by months of total abstinence.