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Pulp Fiction, 1920 · page 47 of 164

Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 47: what you’re looking at

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Argosy All-Story Weekly, November 13, 1920 — page 47: Pulp Fiction, 1920

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PRAIRIE FLOWERS. 325 he plied his quirt and spurs. “Got to make the ferry. Long Bill says the river’s “broke all records. He’s runnin’ away. Left his flat boat tied to a tree. It’s only a lit- tle ways. You go back! I can make it. Had to knock Bill down to keep him from blockin’ my game. Once on that boat, they can’t follow.” “But, they’re almost here!”” Even at the words, a horseman topped the ridge, and, with a yell to his followers, plunged ‘toward them. The Texan scowled darkly. ‘“ Go back! They'll never say I hid behind a woman’s skirts!” ‘““T won’t go back! Oh, hurry—there’s the boat! Two more minutes, and we'll be there! Turn around and shoot! It ‘ll hold 7em! ad “TY won’t shoot—not when they can’t shoot back!” The foremost horseman was almost upon them when they reached the flat boat. He was far in advance of the rest, and as the Texan swung to the ground the report of a six-gun rang loud, and a bullet sang over their heads. The bullet was jalered by the sound of a voice: “ Shoot, you fool! Keep a shoot- in’ till you pile onto the boat, an’ I’ll shoot back. Them hounds back there ain’t a hank- erin’ fer no close quarters with you—I told ‘em how good you was with yer guns.” And Ike Stork followed his words with two shots in rapid succession. ‘“‘ Good boy, old hand!” grinned the Tex- an. ‘‘ How’s that!” Six shots cut the air like the reports of an automatic, and Ike, swerving sharply, galloped back in a well- feigned panic of fear. It was the work of a moment to get the Texan’s horse aboard, and Alice followed with her own. The man stared. ‘“ Get back!” he cried. “Tm goin’ across! Go back to Win!” “ They'll shoot if I don’t stay right here! Ike can’t hold ’em but a few minutes, at best. They’d have you at their mercy. This boat moves slowly.” The Texan took her roughly by the arm. “You go back!” he roared. “ Can’t you see it won’t do? You can’t come! God! girl, can’t you see it? The touch of you drives me crazy!”’ ‘Don’t be a fool! And I won’t see you shot—so there! Oh, Tex, it’s you who can’t see—I do love you—like a sister. I always think of you as my big brother—I never had a real one.”’ The Texan backed away. “I don’t want no sister! What ‘Il folks say? This big- brother stuff won’t go—by a damn sight!” Hoof-beats sounded nearer, and a stream of curses floated to their ears. ‘There comes that horrible Long Bill!” cried the girl, and before the Texan could make a move to stop her, she seized an ax from the bottom of the boat and brought its keen edge down upon the mooring-line. The flat boat shuddered and moved, slowly at first, then faster as it worked into the current. The Texan gazed dumfounded at the rap- idly widening strip of water that separated them from the shore. But he found scant time to stare idly at the water. All about them its surface was clogged with floating débris. The river had risen to within a foot of the slender cable that held the boat on its course, and the unwieldy craft was trembling and jerking as uprooted trees and masses of flotsam caught on the line, strained it almost to the point of snapping, and then, rolled under by the force of the current, allowed the line to spring into place again. Slowly the craft, swept by the force of the flood, worked out into the stream, add- ing its own weight to the strain on the line. The boat shuddered as a tree-trunk struck her side, and, seizing a pole, the man shoved her free. The rushing waters sucked and gurgled at the edge of the boat, and Alice stepped nearer to the Texan. ‘We're moving, anyway,” she said. ‘“'We can’t see the shore now. And the voices of the men have died away.” ‘We can’t see, because it’s cloudin’ up, an’ we can’t hear ’em because the river’s makin’ such a racket. With the pull there is on the boat, we ain’t ever goin’ to get her past the middle—if I could, I’d work her back right now where we come from,” ‘“They’d shoot you!” “Tf they did, it would only be me they’d get—the river won’t be.so particular.” ‘You mean—we’re in danger?” cGomichook (E(9)