Pulp Fiction, 1934 · page 112 of 148
Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 112: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis **Type:** Story prose (interior fiction page) **Content:** This page from Street & Smith's *Western Story Magazine* continues a Western fiction narrative about a character named Jerry. The text depicts Jerry's violent confrontation with a man he believes is connected to murders—Jerry punches the man off a platform into the street, then encounters three cowboys to whom he hastily enlists help restraining and gagging his unconscious opponent in a stable, claiming he's in "a jam" and cannot leave his post guarding a door. The passage emphasizes Jerry's impulsive anger and his attempt to manage an escalating situation.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
anger flooded up. Street & Smith’s could turn his own head, which he did as quickly as Jerry had done, the two men’s eyes met. Jerry was convinced that the fellow was one of Virlee’s killers and that he knew who Jerry was. He was spying on him, Jerry's ready anger boiled up. This might be the man who had killed Treece. He might even be the man who had killed King. And yet he stoed here insolently. He hved a life of ease, while that old cow- man lay in his grave. This fellow had food, shelter, whisky—every- thing that his black heart desired. Ehzabeth was fatherless. Jerry’s He found his mouth dry. He cast the cigarette from him with a violent motion. He slightly turned toward the man. He was stayed by the arrival of half a dozen miners. They had apparently visited several saloons. Their faces were almost as red as their shirts. They spoke to the man beyond the door, having reached him first, and then they spoke to Jerry, with waves of their hands. A little behind them five punchers arrived. They seemed just to have reached town. They spoke neither to Jerry nor to the other man. They were in what to them was a big town, and they were cautious, on their guard. Jerry guessed that they had come from ranches on the other side of town. If they had come from the Barking Dog country, it was unlikely that they would have gone to Virlee’s. Jerry was sure that something of Virlee’s reputation must have gone all over that land. J soo looked down the street. 110 No one was within a hundred feet of this place. Jerry’s anger had not cooled. It could not cool when that killer stood so insolently there. And of the anger one of those Western Story Magazine impulses which Jerry was forever feeling was born. He walked up to the man and stood in front of him. “Well?” he snapped. “Well, what, cowboy?” The man said that with a eurl of his thin lips. A man having his quarrel just was thrice armed. This killer seemed to think himself thrice armed beeause he was on his own ground, with Heaven only knew how many of his own kind near by. Jerry became lost in his rage. He gathered up a handful of the man’s shirt with his left hand, whirled him about to the edge of the platform, and struck him on the point of the jaw, loosing his hold at the same time. The man was knocked out into the street. Jerry cooled a little. Damn it, he had acted too hastily. He had done the very thing against which his father had warned him. He must do something with this _ fellow. What? Below him there was a sound on the board sidewalk. Glanc- ing there, he found three cowboys approaching. They must have been in town for some time, for they walked three abreast, their arms locked. One of them caught sight of the still body on the ground. He walked unsteadily up to it and stirred it with a toe of his boot. Then he glanced up at Jerry. He said, “Whuz masser, cowboy?” The ‘two other punchers: approached the first and they looked up at Jerry owlishly. “Pve got myself inta a kind of a jam,” Jerry said quickly. “Do me a favor?” They sobered slightly and asserted that they would go through hell and high water for Jerry. “Take that fella back to the stable an’ tie him up an’ gag him,” Jerry said. “I can’t leave this door”.