Pulp Fiction, 1920 · page 120 of 208
Adventure Magazine Cover — page 120: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1920. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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the eaves. = him. A giance over his shoulder and the light was explained. The windows of the Happy Fortune saloon glowed red, and smoke curled from Smoke was also creeping along the roof of the store. Some one had at- tempted to relight a lamp and had set fire to some of the spilled liquor, and Old Tommy was about to lose his tinder-like set of buildings. Pausing .only to reload his guns, Uncle Dick climbed back into the saddle and spurred south. ee ~ Adventure © “T’]l get him if I have to tag him to —= and gone,” he furiously vowed. ‘Then re- gretfully: “But Joe won’t get any word from me at the Happy Fortune bar. Maybe the ruins will be word enough.” A flash in the darkness ahead, and he ceased his meditations. On they rode, firing at the sound of each other’s horse. Behind them Old Tommy’s buildings burst forth into a beautiful crimson flower bloom- ing high against the heavens. Uncle Dick reined in and listened. The click-clack of / the fugitive’s animal no longer guided him. TO BE CONCLUDED iW 9 ~ £% iS . \\) Author of “The Skull of Shirzad Mir,’ “The Prophecy of the Blind,” etc. Where is the man who!knows what is hidden in the heart of a woman? —M ohammedan proverb. YY MASTER and Jani Beg, the Uzbek, had been at drawn swords. tower of the skulls of my mas- ter’s retainers that he had slain. On the other hand, Shirzad Mir, who was my mas- ter, had taken prisoner the son of Jani Beg, who was called Said Afzel, the dreamer and eater of opium and bhang. Verily, it is written that the clashing of bright swords delights the soul of a brave man. Yet in this year—early in the seventeenth century of the Christian cal- endar—Jani Beg put aside the sword. He took up another weapon. He called upon Krishna Taya, a girl of the Rajputs. Jani Beg had built a. This was because we, the hillmen of Badakshan, led by Shirzad Mir and the English merchant, Sir Weyand, had taken the citadel of Badakshan. It was by a trick, but nevertheless we sat securely be- hind the high stone walls of Khanjut and ate of the stores Jani Beg had gathered there for himself, and we were content. He could not take Khanjut by storm. No man has done that since the citadel was built under the white peaks of Kohi-Baba at the mouth of the pass that leads to Hindustan. So Jani Beg, who was a man of guile, thought that he, also, would play a trick. And for this he chose Krishna Taya. He whispered an evil thing in the tiny ear of the girl, and she listened. Since the mem- ory of our fathers, woman has played the