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Pulp Fiction, 1922 · page 34 of 180

Argosy, Vol. 147, No. 1 — page 34: what you’re looking at

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Argosy, Vol. 147, No. 1 — page 34: Pulp Fiction, 1922

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o * Nei a * = Le See A 7 - : ‘ 4 — bee oe “ba | Ao ee. . * ae J 4 , +. * Fin *s y «4 rege ee ; : . . Jp os Sere ais we («-- , : vie ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. . 4 . ot MD Ses See ea eRe : Lad A > y oe aah ~> 2 7a et out of the way,” ordered Randolph | rnly, uushing Corinne from the th: It was well for her that she some one who knew horses and vas unafraid, for Red Star had himself into a frenzy and was and kicking like some wild stal- st brought in from the range. on the horse’s small but dangerous eel-shod hoofs, Randolph Beatty circled im warily; then, plunging in at an oppor- me moment, released the entangled hoof. Without hesitation he followed this up by . eizing the bridle while he used the other hand to throw the reins back in place. Even as he did this, he knew the spirited \rab was in a panic, and that there was but one follow-up to all this. So, shifting us hold from bridle to saddle, he threw himself upward, holding the reins and a sandful of the horse’s mane with his other ind. With a foot in one stirrup, the other irrup swinging, Beatty kept his seat as the 4 steel-shod hoofs drummed out a wild farewell to Corinne. Red Star, head lowered, nostrils snorting out smoky puffs of hot breath on the win- ter air until he looked like some horse of diabolic myth, tore along the woodland path, headed for the streets and home. “Qh, he'll be kiiled—he'll be killed!” moaned the girl. But she meant the man, “The squirrel, the cause of it all, lay quiet in her two hands. She had forgotten him. She was watching his savior. - Randolph had two alternatives. Either ne must turr. the horse before it plunged into the city traffic—turn him completely d let him run out his fright—or else he ist fight him ‘hen and there. He tried » first, but only succeeded in having Red ar shy terrifically, almost unseating him hurling him against the nearest tree. hen Randy knew he must try the second, ne city streets were ever nearer. Once ipitated into the swirl of motors, street smnibuses and the like, with a fright- unaway horse, only the most frightful end must ensue. ning and panting after him, a T 1t) AA 4. rb battle. Without spurs, with- r riding breeches that would ~ " ' x ~~ i * ¥ 2 +, ¢ - x& 7 pe rad ' ne Oe et @& ft. < meter give his knees a chance to grip as they should, Randy fought Red Star. Corinne saw him, literally standing up in his stir- rups, the snaffle abandoned, the curb rein drawn tighter, ever tighter, as both hands slowly forced the horse’s head around. Head once turned, he let the curb chain slacken, and the infuriated horse took his turn at standing up, shaking his forefeet in air, pawing and snorting like a demon. When he came down it was four-legged and with a terrific thump. Then he threw his heels in air. Randolph had caught him by the mane when he reared, and had managed somehow to keep his hold when the animal bucked. Bronchos might have taken lessons in bucking from Red Star. Several times the man seemed to slide on his nose along his mount’s neck. He let out another handful of curb rein, and Red Star, with a mighty leap in air, started down the woodland path again in the direction from whence he had come. Corinne had watched the struggle be- tween man and beast, her heart thumping, her forehead wet with perspiration for all the winter cold. Now, when Red Star swept by like the very wind itself, she clutched at her throat. It was frightful, yet some- how glorious—the sight of that exhausted boy, his coat streaming out behind him, his hat gone, his hair in his eyes, both stir- rups swinging, riding like a jockey, his knees gripping the horse’s withers almost at saddle level, his face buried in the mane. He showed no sign of giving up! The sound of the thudding hoofs died away as she stood there. Mechanically she unbuttoned one of the big patch pockets of her heavy tweed riding coat, and thrust the lame squirrel into it, rebuttoning the pocket. Then she turned, too, pausing to pick up the boy’s hat and overcoat where he had dropped them before he mounted. In the anxiety and fear that followed the tense excitement of the fight something was born within Corinne—something to which, for all her previous flirtations, she had hitherto been a stranger. When, a few moments later, she heard the returning thud of hoofs, and then saw, as they turned a curve the steady rise and fall of the man in the saddle, as the horse comicbooks.com