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Pulp Fiction, 1922 · page 60 of 180

Argosy, Vol. 147, No. 1 — page 60: what you’re looking at

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Argosy, Vol. 147, No. 1 — page 60: Pulp Fiction, 1922

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Pp a + Ler at * aye ve 2 : y a | é * ala tread they mounted the last two ‘once more paused to get their 4 1 8) « 1) < : thee as > ry. e (eae e impenetrable darkness was all about m, and Bruce wondered if they had d wisely in extinguishing their light. Get out your matches,” he said. ed and a board under his feet creaked. was by no means a gentle sort of creak, yh men expected something to happen. | instinctively crouched in the dark— gy occurred, scratch your match,” said Bruce. the same time the rasping noise they at. | a ~ Me wi 7 = in S Ith “7 the narrow street sr—and closed it. ~ ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. Standing thus, with every sense alert to rpret its vibratory signal, they again rd the deep respiration of a person in shary quick stroke was heard as Bailey previously heard was repeated—the aping sound of a door that was hard. to Bot. 1 men turned, and knew that they on the main floor of the old building, a level with the street, for not over fifty away one of the big front doors had pushed open from the outside, and a f light from a convenient street lamp ed the outlines of the person who had é girl, or young woman, who sympathy with the negro ’s inter- ‘After a hasty glance within she went to the sidewalk. Anxiety was reflected To secure a better view ni she stepped from rb. A moment later she returned to wg for th , was Bruce’s low t. _“ Now is your time to light the is closed—then : Par . ’ el fh. w . 44 =~, 3 ee AN ‘- 9 CF nee’: me < a : <a” <-> — - « ey ate a te. - do vel . f ~~ mk 2 open doorway both men sought to increase their knowledge of the conditions which sur- rounded them. “ Look,” whispered Bailey, “ to the right —near the post—the negress—asleep. She is all in.” “ A-hah! The deep breathing,” chuckled Bruce. The girl had suddenly quieted down. There was a rumble of wheels coming from the direction in which she was gazing, and her attitude had changed to one of assur- ance. Framed in the doorway, her trim fioure blocked against the glare of light, she stood like one who had gained the dignity of a new personality. Not a line of her lithe form was lost to Bruce — the indefinable something that might be called bearing or poise; the fleet- ing suggestion of a haughty spirit; and, withal, that touch of feminine grace which defies analysis. Bruce recoiled at the vividness with which these things were being etched upon his mind. “ She’s a daughter of Belial,” he finally muttered, dropping into. the clerical vernac- ular for the first time. “ Vou said it,” grunted Bailey. For an instant Bruce was nettled at his friend’s ready indorsement. Then the ab- surdity of his resentment annoyed him. His nerves had become frayed under the night’s ordeal. It was a time for decisive action rather than idle fancies. The rumble of wheels had now become louder—a definite pounding of steel tires on the pavement and the beating of hoofs. Directly a carriage rolled into view be- fore the open door, and from it stepped the negro. It was evidently his intention to load the big negress into it and get away quickly. What must have been a discussion of route and destination then took place be- tween the negro and the driver. There was a great deal of gesticulating and pointing in the direction opposite to that from which the carriage had come. “ Move down on the right,” said Bruce, “and get behind that door. Close it the minute they enter and are free from its — swing—then uncover your light.” gp | 4 je 9% a an