Pulp Fiction, 1934 · page 114 of 148
Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 114: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Description This is story prose from Street & Smith's *Western Story Magazine* (page 112). The text depicts a dramatic saloon confrontation in which Jerry backs up a man named Tyson against armed adversaries. When gunfire erupts, Jerry's allies—a group of punchers—intervene, shooting down Tyson's attacker. The scene escalates as the punchers draw weapons and force a retreat toward the door, eventually leading Jerry and Tyson to escape on horseback with their supporters riding away down the street.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
112 Street & Smith’s his hands on his hips. The punchers divided and lined up on each side of him. Very slowly those three men returned to the table, but they continued to look at Jerry and the --punchers. Tyson turned away from the bar and started for the door. Jerry spoke to him rather loudly, for he wanted every one here to know that | he was backing Tyson. To prove that they were, too, the eleven punchers moved toward Tyson. Jerry’s eyes swept the length of the room. None of the armed men that Virlee must have had there seemed prepared to act. “Come on, Tyson,” “We'll go with you.” . . “Leave me alone,” Tyson ground Jerry said. out. “TI hadda slip away from my wife. I’m lookin’ for Virlee. You know why. Virlee sent that fella to the post office.” _ He went on toward the door. Be- fore he gained it, the door was opened, and three more. punchers came in. They were grinning. Their grins were at once explained. The door was thrown wide, and that man whom Jerry had struck, a gun in each hand, stood in the doorway. Tyson was between him and Jerry. The man leaned to one side, caught sight of Jerry. Jerry went for one of his guns. The man lifted his night hand. Jerry saw a dark face blazing with his rage. Then there was a shot. It was not fired by that killer. His gun clattered on the floor. He pitched forward on his face. Jerry glanced in the direction from which the shot had been fired. Two punchers stood there; one was just returning his gun to its holster. The two then, each glancing from side to side, ad- vanced on Jerry. “He was goin’ to get you, fella,” the man who had fired said gruffly. «“ Western Story Magazine “T dunno what your jam is, but we all better get outta here.” The punchers who had entered . grinning approached Jerry, also. “We found that fella bound in the stable,” one said. “I reckon we made a mistake in freein’ him. We'll back you up. HOSE eleven punchers had drawn their guns when the man had fired. \ They formed themselves into a half circle so that they could ‘cover the bar and the gambling space. Tyson still had his gun in his hand. The other punchers drew their guns. All the men began a slow retreat to the door. When they all reached it, Jerry stepped out. “Nobody better leave this place in the next hour,” he called. “We'll have men front an’ rear. A bunch of you can’t come out. We'll put bullets inta any that try to come. We won’t stop to warn anybody.” Two punchers went through the doorway. They held the doors open. The others passed swiftly through. Jerry, the last, jumped through. “We gotta get our horses from the stable,” one of the punchers who had grinned said. They ran around the corner of the building, and several other men fol- lowed them. Jerry opened the door three times and looked inside, be- fore those punchers returned. Then others said their horses were down the street. Jerry told them to get the animals, mount, and wait for him and the others. The remaining horses were at the rack where Jerry's was. “Up with me, Tyson,” Jerry said. Tyson mounted behind him, and he and the punchers rode to the far side of the street and went along it. They were quickly joined by the riders who had left. In front of a comicbooks.com