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Pulp Fiction, 1925 · page 94 of 196

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Adventure Magazine Cover — page 94: Pulp Fiction, 1925

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doe and addressed them in a tone of easy conversation. “Do you two misborn brigands fight with pistols or with knives or how?” This bluntness fron one whom they had been regarding as a man easy to rob took them aback; but the lean one quickly re- covered his surly self-possession and ad- dressed himself to me. “Have you, Theophilo, any interest with this gringo or with his fate?” It was a leading question, and I knew that upon my answer would depend their action. But my mind was quickly made up. “No,” Isaid. ‘He handles his own affair by himself.” The Pelloroxo, while watching the others like a jaguar, still found time to flash a glance at me and to murmur, “Thanks, amigo.’ During which interval the other two looked at one another and laughed as if Some joke were about to befall. Then the leaner of the two composed his features to ‘that expression of ferocity which fellows of his class employ for the purpose of intimi- dation. “Then,” said he with contempt, “we do not care how we fight or when.” HE delivered it as an ultimatum, and stood as if expecting some argument in reply. But this = gringo of mine-was ever restless for action rather then talk. Hardly were ~ the words out of the fellow’s mouth when the Pelloroxo rushed at him with the sudden- ness of a peccary boar. With his fist he hit him once underneath the eye, so that the blood spurted under the blow. Again, be- fore the man could recover his balance and While the scream of rage was yet in his throat, he hit him with the other fist a terrible blow in the belly so that the scream was choked to a groan and the man leaned forward with eyes turning back in his head and hands clutching at his middle. A third time with incredible speed he struck him upon the ear as he thus staggered, and com- pleted his fall down the slope of the bank into the creek. “Brava!” I shouted with excitement. And as I shouted, a pistol sounded and I heard the ball hum and clatter the next instant m the jungle beyond the creek. Thanking the holy saints in the same breath for that pistol shooting was an inaccurate sport at best, I turned my head and saw the other 92 : Adventure fellow running to shelter behind a tree and turning to shoot again as he ran. Even as I threw myself upon the ground I saw the example of your national pistol play. As swiftly as do your vaqueros inthe motion pictures, the Pelloroxo snatched his pistol from the holster which hung at his loose belt of cartridges-and fired without raising to aim. The man’s arm flew away and upward from his side. The pistol dropped from his hand. He screamed once and lurched up against his tree where he supported himself like one drunk, and like a drunkard began to grow weak at the knees and sag to the ground. Then Pelloroxo turned with ready pistol to attend once more to the other whom he had knocked into the creek. But that blow upon the ear, coming in addition to the terrible assault upon his stomach, had rendered him unconscious. He lay in the water inert while the Indians from the batelaos chattered in affright and pointed at the swirl and splash of the black water all round him. “Mercy of !’ T cried. ‘The piranha!” And I rushed to haul the wretched man forth, shouting upon the Indians to help. By the fellow’s great zach fortune this affair had taken only séconds to accomplish. Had it been a protracted battle his plight would have been a pitiable one. As it was, a veritable school of those ferocious fishes must have been nearby when he fell; for he bled from half a dozen places already on his unprotected hands and face. Clean round holes as big as a vest button they were, showing that his luck was good again in that they had been young fish. By this time the Indians had found their wits and were ready to help. Already a couple of them were chewing great wads oi the tamaquaré leaf to apply as dressing. So I left them to bind him up as best they might and turned once more to look for my friend. He was leaning over the other fellow, shaking him by the shoulder. ‘He is not hurt,” he said to me with dis- gust. “I shot him only in the forearm.” And forthwith, by kicking him vigorously on the nether pants, he forced the man to his feet, and so held him, clutching at his arm and scowling. “Now,” he ordered, “tell your Indians immediately to unload those nuts back into my shed here. Make speed.” And he Gomichbooks.com