Pulp Fiction, 1942 · page 42 of 116
10 Story Detective, July 1942 — page 42: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1942. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
By H. on His Hands Q. Masur CHAPTER I fa Y FATHER used to say that Ni Uncle Henry was the luckiest man in the world. Once when he was a boy on the farm he fell into the hog’s feeding trough and came up with a ten dollar gold piece. Things like that. When he was ten he ran away from Nebraska and by the time he was a young man he headed a large investment company. I hadn’t seen Uncle Henry in a long time. Dad was dead now and I’d been running the farm by myself for the past three years. Fair years, too— except for this last one. It hit me hard. First the frost and then that darn flood. A fellow couldn’t make both ends meet nohow. OO) S} (C(O) S (C(O) =