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Pulp Fiction, 1925 · page 160 of 184

Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 7, 1925 — page 160: what you’re looking at

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Argosy All-Story Weekly, February 7, 1925 — page 160: Pulp Fiction, 1925

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: | . ty : ae et. oe ty So . A wi” * 2S Ff pra of TTS «ot Peas AP) RAY let) oi GIA N ee ; aA NS Ae SUNNY OS® oS x 1443 Se Tish th, Re at en ORR i PON Ae r \ ‘a? ray - Pict eB)? » as eee ‘ah Gi . hey mo hy tae, LAP ak Ss yey eh ane & iu agi 6 P Ka} Sy) a. 7 7 bere "| ty : : oe Se eM RE PATIO : p j ur 7A, es Via ‘ ‘ ‘ ( i, B useuys re Lens 4 know I was there. You go on back down and : search Number Two beater!’ _- Now, to the consternation of Cal iy Siavverys for the first time revealed a degree of agitation disconcerting to his loyal friends. ‘Aw, nix!” bawled Pete, caspinc im- ploring and manacled hands. “Nix, boys; nix!” However, the deputies were already on their way. Gregg leered. The sheriff’s dis- may changed subtly to the hungry look. Pete Slavvery groaned while Bly stared at him as his heart registered woe. It was so hard to conceive of Pete as a scoundrel! And these vague innuendoes of Gregg’s, about Pete imbibing from a bottle, often and alone. So Gregg had spied upon him, and could testify upon ocular evidence as to his capacity! Slavvery’s demeanor in this moment of trial left no doubt in the sorrowful superintendent’s mind of his guilt. Yet how could he have contained so much of liquid damnation and remain sanely on his job? Now into this tangled situation hurtled a brand new element. It assumed the form of a clear, cool, crisp voice, a girl’s voice. A true sense of the dramatic little Miss. Mattie Briscoe must have possessed to ‘“horn in” at this particular moment. ‘Sheriff, if you’ just back up in a straight line, and take three paces to the left, you’ll come to two boards next the wall that look solid. They ain’t. Lift ’em and see what you find! Exhibits? I got tired countin’!”’ She spoke to Vardaman—but she was looking at—Malachi Gregg. Never slow to catch a new angle in a situation, Cal Bly saw Gregg’s face whiten. And he moved quietly to cut off any sudden ambition Mal might conceive to leave the premises too suddenly. Vardaman had pounced upon the desig- nated spot, had lifted out the false boards and was excitedly drawing out from the space underneath slathers of bottles, replicas of the half dozen taken from the idle beater | in the depths below. With his task only t begun the sheriff rose, approaching Pete. “You're a sly dog, ” he squawked, “ if you don’ t look it!” of mortal agony. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. “ Hold your horses! ” commanded Mattie Briscoe. “Can’t you see yet that they’ve planted Pete Slavvery? Snap out of it! I saw something suspicious a week ago; since then I’ve kept count. There are six men in - on it that I’ve seen. For the last six nights they’ve fed out bottles to just. thirty men and they've charged every one of ’em an even seven dollars and eighty-five cents a throw. Being near the border hammers the price down. Last night I heard two men, over by the coal dump, plottin’ to call you in, sheriff, and plant Pete here. I didn’t know one of ’em. But I'll swear in any court you ever saw that Mal Gregg here, was the other! Vve been countin’ the days _ to get even with this big stiff for insultin’ me!” Then suddenly, into this mélée, intruded a yowling and lugubrious sound, an un- earthly bleating, an outcry weirder than any contributed by the synchronized and whirring triumph of man’s mechanical skill that was the Fourdrinier. At last dumb old Pete Slavvery had caught the humor of the situation. And he was laughing his famous gargoyle laugh, heard about once a year; laughing like a sardonic hyena, full in the disgruntled Mala- chi Gregg’s dismayed face. Then Grege went mad with hate and baffled malice. The laugh of Slavvery snapped the thin thread of surviving sense. There stood the fat, manacled dodderkead —and before the sheriff or Bly could pre- vent the cowardly act, Gregg’s mighty right fist flashed and smashed Slavvery full in the face. Nobody had ever knocked Pete down. Now, despite the power of the blow, he did not even stagger. While the blood spurted, spreading from his flattened nose, he stared stupidly at Grege—and continued to laugh. Beside himself Gregg struck blindly again: his foot slipped on the wet floor; he went caroming off Pete’s protuberant belly into the snarling Fourdrinier; there was a yell It was lucky for Gregg that the machine tender who had relieved him stood far down, close to the levers. Like an ape he sprang to them at that agonized scream. They dragged Gregg, i in 1 his gory finery, from the ," is ITN UR GRITIAY Wary : : ’ APSA oy eae } vty | Eomicbooks 4 Gon Wea’ ; Ze ALANS vd? pan fay Vanes , r My | { ies \ . ) &