Pulp Fiction, 1922 · page 152 of 200
Adventure Magazine Cover — page 152: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1922. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ne a Det tg ~~)” "146° —— [ >, ——- toe “at — > Sy ba oF, te A, Yas Si ee oe Se es a eeoty ae Ss > Rae at te. 9 Ser . _- nae ~ came a shrill monotonous piping, broken occasionally by the hoarser bark of the bigger bull-frogs. At times night-hawks passed swiftly, silently by. And always huge bats flitted in and out the shadows. “YT thought you were staying here just for the sake of Cora’s hunting,” Bertie broke out presently. ‘She seems to be in no great hurry to be off.” “She'll go when we get to sleep, Bertie. She’s just hanging round for company’s sake.” The ancient lioness, rubbing her head and shoulders against the graybeard, was trying everything in her power to be petted. Trying pitifully and pitifully try- ing to purr—a purr as wheezy and regular as the notes of a broken accordion. Patronizingly Bertie smiled. “Splendid company, isn’t she? Wonder- ful companion? Kind of walking attar-of- roses.” In an instant the graybeard was up in arms and on the defensive. “She’s my pal, Bertie. Been my pal for twenty whole years.” “Twenty years, Frank? No wonder you’re accustomed to her. Don’t you notice the sweet hum and buzz, eh?” “Hum, Bertier’ The graybeard was aggressively serious. ‘“She’s no worse than any dog. Just as quiet and gentle, too. And if she does smell a bit we’re not bound to notice it.” The old man’s hand gently fondled the scratched, age-worn head, and the purr that struck the inoffensive air was as a nutmeg- grater being ill-used. “Twenty years, eh, Cora, girlie?”’ The old man turned again. “T had two of ’em once, Bertie—Cora and Jack. Shot their mother when they were neither of them much bigger than a fox terrier. The merriest little kittens you ever saw in all your life, Bertie.” “All right as kittens,’ Bertie agreed. “But a bit of a risk when they grow up.” “Not at all, Bertie. There’s scarcely an animal in the world, Bertie, that’s danger- ous if you rear it from babyhood in its own surroundings—and never attempt to fasten it up or cage it. It’s the fastening up that does it.” “Then you’ve never tied Cora up, that’s certain.” “Never for a moment, Bertie. If I tied ae Adventure Cora up for a week I’d- be afraid to go near her. gentle exists.” Stifly Bertie changed his position ane for a while he was silent. j “What happened to the other one?” fie asked presently. “What happened to Jack?” ‘He’ s dead, Bertie. Died two years ago.’ “How did that happen, Frank? Old age?” The old man hesitated. Something seemed to be forming to hinder his speech. “No, Bertie, an accident. Jack went hunting alone for koodoo. You know what long, sharp, dangerous horns the koodoo has? Jack miscalculated his spring and a koodoo ripped him.” “Poor ——! The biter bitten. Bled to death, eh?”’ Cora, raising her grizzled muzzle, tickled the graybeard on the chin and tried to kiss him. Like flicking a fly he tapped her gently away. “No. Cora smelled the blood on him when he came crawling home. Cora killed and ate him.” THE silent night dragged out. The ice-cold moon had long since sunk over the horizon and the myriad stars gleamed like diamond pin-points in an arctic sky. Soon the sun would shoot up and the day start in again. A slight breeze rustled the grass. Sleepily the gray- beard opened his eyes, and listened. The breeze came regularly and evenly, and he closed them again. With a start his eyes flashed open once more. open. Dark figures. innumerable were moving in Yet nothing more loving nor _ Flashed open wide and remained . the grass, moving among the Kaffirs, mov- . ing among the horses. Lithe, active, sin- ewy figures—figures all armed. © For an instant the graybeard’s eyes peered searchingly around, searched to dis- tinguish friend or enemy. Then his heart seemed to stop. Armed Kaffirs at daybreak! firs always attack at dawn! Nervously the graybeard reached over to Bertie and shook him to consciousness. His hand came back and felt under his blanket for revolver and rifle. With a sick- ening, hopeless sensation he found that they were missing. And Kaf- i Comichbooks (EO)