Pulp Fiction, 1934 · page 71 of 148
Western Story Magazine, May 12, 1934 — page 71: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis: Story Prose from "Trail Pardners" This page contains story prose (text only, no illustrations) from page 69 of a pulp fiction story titled "Trail Pardners." The narrative follows two frontier partners, Hard-rock and Poke, pursuing a fur thief who has stolen their silver fox pelts. After discovering the stolen goods are gone and suspecting a recently released prisoner named Listman, they begin tracking him northward toward Iron Mountain. The passage describes their pursuit across a dangerous glacier, where they encounter a massive crevasse and test its depth by dropping a fifty-pound rock into it—finding the chasm alarmingly deep with no sound of the rock striking bottom.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Trail Pardners ) 69 : is honest, and you both know it. Now what happened?”’ All either man could tell was hat they had slept soundly after their hard day, and when they awakened, the fur was gone. “Silver fox, too,” Hard-rock said. “Tf I didn’t know Listman was in jail, ’'d swear he swiped ’em.” Bud said, “Listman” was released last night on bail.” “Then he done it!” the two chorused. “Circumstantial evidence "2 began Bud. “Circumstantial evidence, your grandmother!” Hard-rock jeerd. “Tm goin’ after that cuss.” “You said it,’ Poke added. “Hard-rock, if you want the legs of the mule to go with your upper half, you can have ’em.” “Thanks; we’ll settle our private fight after this 1s over with. You're comin’ along, ain’t you?” Hard-rock asked. | “Td like to see anybody stop me,” Poke replied. A half hour later the partners were on the trail. Bud promised to follow as soon as he could get organized. It looked as if the chase would be a long one. The footprints of a big man led straight north toward the Iron Mountain country. The depths which his moccasins had sunk into the snow indicated he was carrying a heavy pack. “Fur,” Hard-rock said after a brief inspection; ‘“‘our fur, most likely. And he’s mushin’ fast.” “And is takin’ the shortest and hardest way to Iron Mountain,” Poke added three hours later. “Look —headin’ straight for Icy Pass.” That night they made a sapling fence, turned Tabasco loose in the hastily constructed inclosure, cached what they could not carry, and made plans to continue the chase afoot. The fur robber had evidently sighted them, noted the mule, and promptly taken a trail the heavy animal could not follow. At daybreak they broke camp. Wind was howling through Icy Pass, and loose snow was blowing. In the shelter of an ice-coated boulder they found tracks. 3 “He went straight across Blue Glacier last night!” WHard-rock gasped. “It’s a wonder he didn’t go through one of those snow bridges.” . “Maybe he did!” Poke suggested. ou if that happened, it’s good-by or “Do you know, Poke,” Hard-rock observed, “him riskin’ his neck that way is a sort of a compliment to us. He knew danged well we’d overhaul him if he weren’t careful. Come on!” = They climbed to the surface of the glacier and advanced slowly, stop- ping often to discuss the safest course to follow. From their com- bined knowledge they worked out a trail which carried them a mile without danger. Then they stopped. Ahead a crevasse yawned. It was several yards in width, and the rim on either side curved back, leaving a glassy surface, sharply pitched. H ARD-ROCK located a fifty- pound rock which the glacier was carrying with other débris gouged from some ridge, and rolled it to the rim, then gave a mighty heave. It bounced twice, then disappeared into the blue-black depths of the great ice crack. They listened, but there was no sound of its striking. “Man! Man!” the little Irishman cried in an awed tone. “She’s a long ways down there!” | Poke pointed at.a, stom bridge...