Pulp Fiction, 1934 · page 62 of 148
Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 62: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page 60: Street & Smith's Western Story Magazine This page contains story prose from a Western pulp fiction narrative. The text depicts an action sequence in which a character named Bascom observes masked intruders forcing an elderly rancher named Schraber to open a safe. When the intruders become impatient and physically assault Schraber, Bascom intervenes, rushing into the living room and engaging the criminals in combat. The passage emphasizes suspense and physical action typical of early-20th-century Western pulp fiction.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
60 Street & Smith’s Western Story Magazine --nothing more, then there came to his ears the muffled sound of horses’ hoofs. A figure moved out from the bunk house toward the corrals. Bas- com slid quietly down the slope be- hind the building, and crouched at one corner to listen. He could hear the snores of two or three of the sleeping cowboys inside. Near the big corral there was the creak of leather and the sound of men shift- ing their weight from saddle to ground. “By golly!” thought Bascom. “Sounds like an army. I might let a yell outta me and nip the whole thing in the bud right here. But if I did, we’d never know who it was come outta that bunk house.” Four shapes materialized . from the shadows, and a blurred whisper was giving orders. One of the shapes took position by the bunk-house door. The other three moved si- lently toward the ranch house. When they were out of sight, Bas- com took up his station beneath Schraber’s bedroom window. The safe was in the living room, one end of which served as ranch office. Bascom reasoned that Schraber would be wakened and made to open it. Maybe the Old Man could bluff them out somehow. The plain fact was that the cowboy was’ casting about in his mind for some way to stop this thing without a fight. Schraber’s window lighted, and his voice sounded, sudden and quer- ulous: “What's this? What’s_ this? What—the—devil id A hoarse voice said: “Gag him quick “fore he can yell! There! Now, old man, get your slippers on and come and open up that safe for us. And you might’s well come quiet and easy. You won’t get hurt if you show pretty manners. Oh, want your dressin’ gown, huh? My, what a lotta style you rich guys do put on! There you are. Come along, now.” Bascom quickly changed his posi- tion to the front door, keeping well out of sight of the guard at the bunk house. Through a window near the door he could see the group enter the living room, one of three masked men carrying a lamp, the other two leading Schraber, firmly gripped by the arms, his mouth gagged with a blue handkerchief. The eyes of the old rancher were blazing, his glance shooting about him, canvassing every possibility of escape. But for once in his fire- eating life, Lew Schraber was help- less. Still, thought the watching Bascom, he might figure something out yet. He might fool with the combination of the safe, act as if he couldn’t work it. That, apparently, was just what Schraber was doing. Squatted on the floor, his bony, bare ankles show- ing above his slippers, he worked at the combination for two, three, four minutes. One of the masked figures -growled: “The old four-flusher is stallin’ on us, boys!” A booted toe shot out and planted itself in the old man’s short ribs. He toppled over with an involun- tary moan. Bascom had wrenched the door open and was halfway across the room before his first conscious thought came to him. The group before the safe had whirled, drag- ging at their guns. They fired, but their aim was poor. He was already on top of them. He picked up the first man he encountered and hurled him across the room. The fellow had some difficulty separating him- self from a demolished chair. Bascom put out a foot and tripped the second man, and met. DC Abird