ComicBooks.com Register / Loginit's free!

Pulp Fiction, 1916 · page 156 of 228

Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 156: what you’re looking at

📖 Open the full issue in the page-flip reader →
Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 156: Pulp Fiction, 1916

A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1916. 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.

yn Ne y | ye ti “7 Me Tei he 7 eee i ' i hs te : Le. %& PUP MEA Neier) eo) hee oe 7G ; bi Nasu OO Lad oo. eh th A Nod Liat ds Sia Ae Atay Vasey verve : yD Sirs Bel > ae a ; » ” - : K tes 4% vy TEN tn Pate “> Pe EAL : igh yee wd Ay Orr ~ ; + , 1 . a abe ves, Wad! "i b> bt i. 4 Pe tC ae + “a ry, , a ‘eed ‘ eee , <> “ \ 2 Bae ba , 7 ‘i Ve ater 4 Ne Sits ge, WM BL Ag ~ hy de A Maye gM et Pe Mit Ait ‘Aro uRA ; : Why ; : ‘hy ‘ bt he peed ' »,* : CIV A RD yet Ra Af ya oe ) ? PEACRVN ASD Pe Z Lars 24 in Oey ; Aa Pa Me aa tl 39 RY -iL? i « + - yids A NpP 154 _ As he closed the gate his glance fell on the dropped saddle. The coiled rope had fallen away from the horn, and there was revealed in the swell-fork a neat round hole. He squatted down more closely at the neat hole. “That happened lately,” he said, finger- ing the edges of the hole. “TI thought so,’ he added, as an inserted little finger encoun- tered a smooth, slightly concave surface. He took out his knife and dug industri- ously. After three minutes’ work a some- what mushroomed forty-five-caliber bullet lay in the palm of his hand. “Q’ course Johnny Ramsay ain’t the only sport packin’ a forty-five,” he said softly. ‘But Johnny did mention firin’ one shot at a party on a hoss. It’s possible he hit the swell-fork. Yep, it’s a heap possi- ble.” Then Loudon dropped the bullet into a pocket of his chaps and climbed to the top of the corral fence. Seg A MILE distant, on the slope of a om swell, two men were riding toward the ranch-house. The horsemen were driving before them a cow and a calf. Loudon climbed down and took position behind the mule corral. From this vantage- point he could observe unseen all that might develop. The riders, Marvin, the 88 range boss, and Rudd, a puncher, passed within forty feet of the mule corral. The cow and the calf walked heavily, as if they had been driven a long distance, and Loudon per- ceived that they had been newly branded 8X8. The brand was not one that he re- cognized. “Crossed dumb-bell or eight times eight,”’ he grinned. ‘“Take yo’re choice. I wonder if that brand’s the proof Blakely was talk- in’ about. Marvin an’ Rudd sure do look serious.”’ : He cautiously edged round the corral and halted behind the corner of the bunk-house. Marvin and Rudd were holding the cow and calf near the ranch-house door. The two men lounged in their saddles. Marvin roll- ed a cigarette. Then in the doorway ap- peared Mr. Saltoun. “Howdy, Mr. Saltoun,”’ - “Sam got in yet?” ‘“‘He’s in there,” jerking a thumb over his shoulder. shot.” “Who done it?” said Marvin. replied Mr. Saltoun, *“He’s ry Adventure “Tom Loudon.” ‘“Where is he?” “Throw up yore hands!” rapped out the gentleman in question. Loudon had approached unobserved and was standing some twenty feet in the rear -of Marvin and Rudd. At Loudon’s sharp command Rudd’s hands shot skyward in- stantly. “T’m waitin’,’”’ cautioned Loudon. Marvin’s fingers slowly uncoiled from the butt of his six-shooter and draggingly he followed his comrade’s example. “Now we can all be happy,” remarked Loudon, nodding amiably to the perturbed Mr. Saltoun. “I won’t shoot unless they shove me. They can talk just as comfort- able with their hands up, an’ it’ll be a lot safer all ’round.. Was the state 0’ Sam’s health all ye wanted to know, Marvin? No, don’t either of ye turn ’round. Just’ keep yore eyes clamped on the windmill. About Sam, now, Marvin. Richie says he’ll pull through. Anythin’ else.” “You bet there is!’’ exploded the furious range-boss. ‘You —— rustler, you brand- ed a cow an’ a calf o’ ours yest’day!” “Sure,” agreed Loudon politely, “an’ I held up the Farewell stage, stole thirty- eight horses, an’ robbed the Maryville bank the day before. Ye don’t want to forget all them little details, Marvin. It’s a sure sign yo’re gettin’ aged when ye do. Well, well, a cow an’ a calf ye say. Only the two, huh? It don’t look natural somehow. I never brand less’n twenty-four at a clip.” Over the shoulders of the agitated Mr. Saltoun peered the faces of avidly interest- ed Richie, Chuck Morgan, and Jimmy the cook. None of these three allowed a sign of his true feeling to appear on his face. The two 88 men were red with shame and anger. Their lips moved with wicked words. Arms stretched heavenward, their gaze religiously fixed on the windmill, they presented a ridiculous appearance, and they knew it. Loudon, the dominant figure in the scene, spread his legs and smiled sar- donically. “Go on, Marvin,” he said, after a mo- ment, “so're cussin’ a lot, but ye ain’t say- in’ nothin’. Let's hear the rest 0” that in- terestin’ story o’ the 88 cow an’ her little daughter.” “You branded the both of ’em,” sf bornly reiterated Marvin. ‘‘We seen ye— Sam, Rudd here, an’ me, we seen ye.” Gomirebooks:e