Pulp Fiction, 1934 · page 66 of 148
Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 66: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis: Street & Smith's Western Story Magazine This is a page of **story prose** from a Western pulp fiction magazine (page 64). The text depicts a violent brawl between two prospectors, Hard-rock Shipley and Poke Tupper, that escalates when a peacemaker named Mort Seeley attempts to intervene. After being ejected from their cabin, Seeley seeks help from the marshal's office in Big Nugget, resulting in the dispatch of "Bud Tuttle," known as the "Chechahco Kid," a rough deputy described as an excellent fighter. The narrative focuses on frontier conflict and law-enforcement response to disorder.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
64 Street & Smith’s a foot taller than his red-headed partner, a flip of the head carried the jaw beyond reach. “Yah!” Poke jeered. “Missed me a, mile!” “Tl cut you down to my size,” Hard-rock shrilled, driving his fist into Poke’s stomach. As Poke doubled up, Hard-rock nailed him on the jaw. Poke’s eyes glazed, his knees sagged, then his long arms grasped Hard-rock’s solid figure and held on. Together they crashed to the floor. Slugging, kneeing, and occasion- ally indulging in a little mild thumb gouging, they rolled the length of the room. “Look out for the stove!” Poke warned. “The devil with the stove,” Hard- | rock snarled. They crashed into the tee. knocked it off its legs, and brought the pipe down with it. Two years’ accumulation of soot filled the room. Hard-rock’s hair turned black; his face became an inky smear, and when he sneezed, soot eddied vio- lently. By mutual agreement, they broke apart and opened the door to let the smoke and soot out. M ORT SEELEY, hearing the uproar, arrived as they re- oe newed the battle. Seeley liked beer and comfort. He was built accordingly, with a moon face and a stomach as round as a globe. “Gentlemen! Gentlemen!” he ad- monished, holding up a fat hand. “T urge you tobe calm. This matter can be adjusted.” “There’s nothin’ to adjust,” Hard- rock panted. “I want to tear this pelican to shreds, and nothin’ less will suit me.” ‘““And just try and keep me from murderin’ this red-whiskered mon- aa Western Story Magazine key,” Poke stormed, burying his knee in Hard-rock’s stomach. This was the signal for Seeley to hop into the fight. “I’m going to have peace in these parts if I have to fight for it,” he roared. “Now cut it out!” He hurled himself between them, and something had to give under the impact of his great weight. “This is a private fight,” Hard- rock shouted. “Come on, Poke; let’s have at him.” They swarmed over Seeley, mauled him, and hurried the well- intentioned fat man from the cabin. As they renewed the fight, Seeley broke into a trot which carried him to Big Nugget in fifteen minutes. He went straight to the United States marshal’s office and asked for “Dad” Morton, marshal of the dis- trict. | “He’s out;” a clerk informed him. “Will Bud Tuttle do?” “You mean the Chechahco Kid?” Seeley asked. “Yeah. What’s wrong, a riot?” “Hard-rock Shipley and Poke Tupper are having a knock-down- and-drag-’em-out battle. Cabin fever is what you call it,’ Seeley panted. “T’ll send Bud Tuttle then,” the clerk answered. He raised his voice. “Bud! Cabin fever over at the Shipley-Tupper place!” The “Chechaheo Kid’s” two hun- dred pounds bounced down_ the wooden stairs leading to the second floor. In moccasins and parka, he suggested some swift-moving fur- bearing animal. There was not a better rough-and-tumble fighter in the North, and he could hold his own with a six-gun. He was yet to grasp, fully, that there are methods other than brute force to gain an end, but he was learning this rapidly. “When youre smart enough to trick people into behaving them- Comic books-co im