Pulp Fiction, 1929 · page 13 of 164
Adventure Trails, February 1929 — page 13: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1929. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
uh AKG h yn i) a Wii a Mp, My i Pah aisi — — . i As fast as Ted’s bleeding knuckles crashed against a brown chin, two more came forward to take its place. ae Ni Dy / nee na DNs 41)) Why ate 4 ine a “i [y ste A mi De on * Mi 1 i “i i os Hy MIC NAAT AN i 4 a ‘A \ ic Ha haley ate ih; ti Ni? ae i (i ys Hk f AEA wig Is, A ii ALLA "Hy } Oe nie ae ae vat uh ‘ ite ft Hi te ee ty i yi oe Ka it AN Vit HN Aan A) ey, vba ha J Me \ mee gts "2 ae hei bie eae (a is i OWE abs te SHEN ra a The Might of the Scorpion A NOVELETTE OF MEXICO By Sewell Peaslee Wright Ted McKay extracts the venom of a deadly Scorpion. I THE BLUE-EYED MEXICAN SYED was in Scaja strictly on , business ; the business of get- ) ting some dozen or so peons S to accept jobs at the mine he and his partner owned. But that did not mean that he could not in- dulge in a little social affair like taking a drink after a hard day’s ride. Of course, he had no business going into Raymon’s cantina. No gringo was welcome there, and Ted McKay knew it. But he wanted a drink, and being rather used to taking care of himself he ducked through the low doorway of the dive and strode up to the crowded bar as carelessly as though he did not know that fifty pair of black, malignant eyes were fixed on him. 11 He gave his order, paid for it, and tossed off the potent tequila with a wry face and a quick shrug. As he turned to leave the place a half-drunken Mexican with squinting eyes and a thin-lipped, leer- ing mouth deliberately trod on Ted’s foot, at the same time bumping him violently, so that the American nearly went sprawl- ing on the littered floor. There was an instant’s hush, and then an amused murmur of approval rose on all sides. The tall Mexican, encouraged by the applause of his countrymen, swept his ragged sombrero from his head and bowed mockingly and somewhat unstead- ily to the glaring American. . “A thousand pardons for stepping on that foot!” he exclaimed with mock con- triteness. ‘A thousand pardons, sefior!” Ted glanced at the man sharply. — cComicboo