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Pulp Fiction, 1921 · page 119 of 204

Adventure Magazine Cover — page 119: what you’re looking at

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Adventure Magazine Cover — page 119: Pulp Fiction, 1921

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‘’ ° of 2 s 2 ¢ y é b Lary = ef & - ~~ 2 3 ‘ e vee : 4 t fe : eC . . rs, ss we oe a“ ——, Sj fo AS. Set i——__—~ .« ‘BGem 6 #e@ ST RRR RD | cuss : & ROS DONER@ cere ma as eLassesceni@iar g Auther of “Prester John,” etc. The Thirteenth Tale m the Series, “The Path of a King.” Each Story Entirely ‘Complete in Itse!; The Story behind the Stories So THAT the general idea of this series of stories may be more visible in each issue, two of them each time appear together. For in the stories themselves there is practi- cally nothing concrete to indicate any connection between one of them and any of the others. all the others in place and time and plot. a thousand years—‘“‘The Path of a hing.” Each story stands entirely on its own fect, complete in itself and differing from Yet through them all runs a Path—a Path of As expressed in the author’s foreword to the series, it is not for nothing that a great man leaves posterity. The spark once transmitted may smolder for generations under ashes, but at the appointed time it will flare up to warm the world. God never allows waste. Yet we fools rub our eyes and wonder when we see genius come out of the gutter. We none of us know our ancestors beyond a little way. We all of us may have king’s blood in our veins. The dago who blacked your boots may be descended by curious byways from Julius Cesar. “I saw the younger sons carry the royal blood far down among the people, down even into the kennels of the outcast. Generations follow, but there is that in the stock which is fated to endure. The sons and daughters blunder and sin and perish, but the race goes on, for there is a fierce stuff of life in it. Some rags of greatness always cling to it, and somehow the blood drawn from kings it never knew will be royal again. After long years, unheralded and unlooked for, there comes the day of the Appointed Time.” You will note that practically the only surface suggestion of any kind of connection between one story and any of the cthers is that the king’s ring of the old Norse viking, introduced in the first story, is more or less casually mentioned in following stories and of course is always in possession of some one descended from that king, though the king himself has:long since faded from human memory. SMALL boy crept into the dark- A ened hut. The unglazed win- dows were roughly ° curtained ° bg - with skins, but there was sufh- cient light from the open doorway to show him what he wanted. He tiptoed to a cor- ner where an old traveling-trunk lay under a pule of dirty clothes. He opened it very carefully, and after a little searching found the thing he sought. Then he gently closed it, and, with a look toward the bed in the other corner, he slipped out again into the warm October afternoon. The woman on. the bed stirred uneasiiy and suddenly bcame fully awake, after the way of those who are fluttering very near death. She was still young, and the little face among the coarse homespun blankets looked almost childish. Heavy masses of black hair lay on the pillow, and the depth of its darkness increased the pallor of her brow. But the cheeks were flushed and the deep hazel eyes were burning with a slow fire. For a week the milk-sick fever had raged furiously, and in the few hours free from delirium she had been racked with 109 cCOmiclboolks C©