Pulp Fiction, 1955 · page 49 of 146
Argosy: The Short Story Magazine — page 49: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1955. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
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Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ad ane es le - “7 “sr 2 “ - - +e - ~~" “ “a> = Is - —-" a. wen te . 4 — ht SIX LEGS ARE WELCOME 49 Rosalinda evidently thought this was the proper way for a brother to behave. She made no attempt to touch him until she had loosed off some quick explanations in Guarani. They had been brought up together in the lonelinesss of the forest, those two, and words were hardly necessary to them at all. A half- sentence, an exclamation, a tone of voice could tell far more essentials than the usual forms of speech that you and I go through. Hilario begged me to forgive him, and if I could not see my way to forget an unjust insult, to wait for him a little while until he had obliged the gentleman responsible for his agitation. He was only about eighteen and looked extraordinarily like his sister—the same gentle, tender face with the features a little sharper and the mouth a little thinner. He was wearing the old- fashioned hat and poncho which you might see in Posadas on a fiesta. On working days, however, we wore coats and trousers like anyone else, with a few individualities in the way of boots and belts. Hilario and his manners belonged to the Latin- America of the last century. ‘“‘ Which is this Don Luis of whom I have heard? ” he asked me. He felt it indelicate even to mention the name to his sister. Luis had just come in from the kitchen—about the only place where his personal influence never did anything but good—and was standing near the other end of the bar, staring at the new arrival. He must have guessed who Hilario was—the resemblance to Rosalinda was so marked—but probably reckoned that a half- Indian boy, with a face made for women and the guitar, was not likely to give him much trouble. _ They met in the upper half of the dance floor, and Hilario called him exactly what he was. Luis’s knife was out before the second syllable. I don’t know whether you have ever seen our up-country fighting. Srrr! Click! Sssh! And it’s all over. One moment Luis was as fast as a hornet’s sting, and the next moment he was lying on the floor with his works coiling out around him and the flies beginning to come in from the kitchen. He had courage. He didn’t complain. ‘That sort of thing was an occupational risk, | suppose. Hilario’s face was still soft and courteous. He might have been apologizing to the company for some outrageous favour which he had felt bound to extend to Don Luis. He had cut upwards and his hand had followed the knife. ‘The blood was running down from his fist to the blade and dripping on the floor. You could hear it. comiclooks.comn) 4