Pulp Fiction, 1916 · page 184 of 228
Adventure Magazine, March 1916 — page 184: what you’re looking at
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.
af ve \. were |) ok! 4" re A be yay ; » | ) OTF) : - a \ r*) Stem Pile : 7 thes oe, | . r ‘> Me ek. Bt) ew. ee = Det AY Ae A ee y ve" me” ink cit Py i Sa LAA > 3 et ray bi ary a é . aS FONE SPs eN rs Ay |e Noe icth Pe Re Seer ie Cee RW Ore (Ay “yee gees Mai ane Hy i oiled nd, wat ree de DAML 2 ee Pe eee ae La Oe eRe eae ee ae ALS vx ¥ x Pa ath £ wi Lee AT Ath ree : a “a ig vit . ‘7 x . at eR" | GS as ot kos Pre ab oll OR we lieey em yan caf Con , : SA | Va a 182 a shakily, ‘“you married me fair and square according to the Poonan marriage ceremony, and even though that ceremony consists only of a kiss, you are standing by that marriage as no woman I ever have known would have done! It is not because I doubt the sin- cerity, or the grace of that ceremony that I do this, now. But I want to marry you straight and honest, as best I can, accord- ing to my lights. Belun-Mea Poa-Poa I'll marry you in the sight of Heaven, so I will!”’ I was a man inspired. My earnest desire to be worthy of her great love for me, her great love and even greater sacrifices for me, inspired me. I held her hand and we stood there, facing the darkening night, facing for all we knew, imminent torture; impending, nameless death. And her hand in mine, I recited what few words I could remember of the matriage ritual they used back home. What I could not remember, word for word, I stammered in my own rough speech; for I thought only to be true to my holy idea, and to make her my wife straight and honest, and as best I could. She did not understand what I was say- ing—for I was speaking, then, in English —but she stood very quiet, very humble, her hand warm and trembling in mine. She knew, though, that death was very near us that night; and she knew, further, that the words I uttered were devout words, _ words which it choked my throat to utter. . But spare me repeating here the words I said then. There was no priests or minister of God to speak those words, no book nor ring to give those words the solemnity due holy things. And so, if I were to repeat those words here, to you, my marriage to Golden Feather of Flame, that night, might sound like a matter of mere words; to you again, it might seem as though [_bur- lesqued, even blasphemed, sacred rites; and of a certainty, to you, those words in the coldness of the retelling could not ring with that fire, with that intense earnestness which swam my eyes in mist, as I uttered them, and shook me in every limb. - But from my heart, I spoke those words; and deep in my heart, I believed in the vir- tue and blessedness of those words. I be- lieved then—yea, and I believe to this day and always shall believe—that I made Golden Feather of Flame, that amas my bride in the sight of God! Adventure And the indisputable fact remains that I have stood by that marriage ceremony. I have been true to Belun-Mea Poa-Poa, my. pagan bride. And living or dead, in heaven or in hell, I ever shall be true to her! For what I said in concluding that cere- mony was in the nature of a solemn mar- riage vow, a vow to keep, a vow which rigidly I have kept! And what I said was: “You are, in truth, my Golden Goddess, my Marshal Queen, my beautiful bride, my life! And [ll stick to you, Golden Feather of Flame, you and you alone, until death do us part, so help me God!’’ Then, quite overcome by the depths of my sincerity and love, I dropped her hand and hastily flung down the corridor, and so- into my cave-chamber. I would let no carved block of precious stone shake me off my high place as Raj of the Poonan and mate of Belun-Mea Poa-Poa! I would let no malignant love-mad High Priestess send me, like an overthrown Hyperion, headlong on from the sun and headfirst in to ell! I would return the god! And the Poonan would have no cause to crush me; they would never know; for I would return the god that very night. And then I would continue on as Raj. T would continue on as the lover and mate of Golden Feather of Flame, and we would stand side by side on the Nine-Times-Nine Throne through life, and we would be happy together in our great love; and perhaps— yes, perhaps there would be little golden heads, little children to strengthen, if such could be, that bond of love between us. There on the couch, shimmering a deep green in the wavering torchlight, it lay— that accursed emerald of destruction and of dread. It threatened my paradise on earth. But I determined it no longer would threaten my paradise on earth. I was: nerved to a desperate pitch. I snatched it up, thrust it into the rattan basket, and, rattan basket under my arm, swiftly rejoined Golden Feather of Flame at the left-hand entrance. She nodded bravely as she saw me, and thereupon beat out the flame of her torch against the wall. Then in the dark, like an echo of my thoughts, she spoke. “Tt is well,” she said. ‘‘We will bring it back. The Poonan will never know. We will bring it back to the Stone Dobo to- night!” Gomichooks cor