ComicBooks.com Register / Loginit's free!

Pulp Fiction, 1919 · page 134 of 196

Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 134: what you’re looking at

📖 Open the full issue in the page-flip reader →
Argosy, Vol. 112, No. 2 — page 134: Pulp Fiction, 1919

A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1919. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.

📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

PPE iM ea td) ket Jan lo be ¥ ECE TVG 1 NPA Ki . Bor ay ohn Frederick Author of “ The Hammer,” CHAPTER XXXII. A TALE OF A CARELESS MAN. O the door ran Jacqueline and threw 2d it open. ‘“ Ride down the valley!” she cried. “That’s right. He’s coming up, and he’ll meet you on the way. He'll be glad—to see you!” She saw the rider swing sharply about, and the clatter of the galloping hoofs died out up the valley; then she closed the door, dropped the latch, and, running to the mid- die of the room, threw up her arms and cried out, a wild, shrill yell of triumph like the call of the old Indian brave when he rises with the scalp of his murdered enemy dripping in his hand. The extended arms she caught back to her breast, and stood there with head tilted back, crushing her delight closer to her heart. And she whispered: mine! Pierre!”’ , Next she went to the steel mirror on the wall and looked long at the flushed, tri- umphant image. At length she started, like one awakening from a happy dream, and hurriedly coiled the thick, soft tresses about her head. Never before had she lingered so over a toilet, patting each lock into place, twisting her head from side to side like a peacock admiring its image. Now she looked about hungrily for a touch of color and uttered a little moan of vexation when she saw nothing, till her eyes, piercing through the gloom of a dim corner, she saw a spray of autumn leaves, long left there and still stained with beauty. She fastened them at the breast of her shirt, and so arrayed began to cook. “Pierre! Mine, “The Higher Strain,” etc. Never was there a merrier cook, not even some jolly French chef with a heart made warm with good red wine, for she sang as she worked, and whenever she had to cross the room it was with a dancing step. Spring was in her blood, warm spring that loosens the muscles about the heart and makes the eyes of girls dim and sets men smiling for no cause except that they are living, and rejoice with the whole awakening world. So it was with Jacqueline. Ever and ~ anon as she leaned over the pans and stirred the fire she raised her head and remained a moment motionless, waiting for a sound, yearning to hear, and each time she had to look down again with a sigh. As it was, he took her by surprise, for he entered with the soft foot of the hunted and remained an instant searching the room with a careful glance. Not that he sus- pected, not that he had not relaxed his guard and his vigilance the moment he caught sight.of the flicker of light through the mass of great boulders, but the lifelong habit of vigilance remained with him. Even when he spoke face to face with a man, he never seemed to be giving more than half his attention, for might not some one else approach if he lost himself in order to listen to any one voice? He had covered half the length of the room with that sound- less step before she heard, and rose with a glad cry: “ Pierre!” Meeting that calm blue eye, she checked herself mightily. ‘“ A hard ride?” she asked. “Nothing much.” He took the rock nearest the fire and then raised a glance of inquiry. “TI got cold,” she said, ‘and rolled it over.” This story began in The Argosy for August 9. 300 Gomichboo