ComicBooks.com Register / Loginit's free!

Pulp Fiction, 1950 · page 30 of 133

Arizona Round-Up — page 30: what you’re looking at

📖 Open the full issue in the page-flip reader →
Arizona Round-Up — page 30: Pulp Fiction, 1950

A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1950. 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.

28 WILLIAM HOPSON “Correct,” nodded Tex Burnett, and slid a sheaf of gold notes from the belt beneath his shirt. He tossed them across and picked up the chips, stacking them expertly with deft movements of his fingers. Gardner's eyes widened. Massey’s remained expressionless, almost boredly so, but Burnett knew perfectly the thoughts passing through their minds. They had, he thought, made a mistake in coming in on the same stage. It would have been better to have come in separate- ly and kept apart. They began to play again, but somebody had seen the money passed across and word began to spread. In fifteen minutes the table was ringed with excited miners and other patrons. Pearson came back from the Pheasant. He had bowed to Lily Owens’ demands. Not only did she not want Burnett bucking her own group of tinhorns, but with him working in the Pound it would give her little chance to see him. And, determined woman that she was, Lily Owens was set on becoming better friends. Some- thing about his calm young-old face told her that those cobalt eyes had viewed much of life. His manners proclaimed him edu- cated and a gentleman. In short, Tex Burnett had struck the fire that Pearson hadn’t been able to ignite. Massey looked up as Pearson had drinks sent over from the bar. Brandy. Ed the bartender was still eyeing Tex a little sus- piciously. He placed the brandy glass at Tex’s black-clad elbow. “Out of Mr. Pearson’s private bottle, just like he said, Mr. Bur- nett. Anything else I could get you?” Ed was thinking of a possi- ble big tip from a possible winner. Gamblers, after a night of heavy winnings, often tipped the barkeep up to a hundred dol- lars. “Cigars? Tobacco? Coffee?” “Pigeon milk,” Tex explained. “Only thing I ever drink before eight o'clock. Got any?” - “Pigeon milk?” muttered the barkeep. “Don't they lay aigs, like a hen or somethin’P” “It’s all right,” Tex explained to Ed. “Can't have all the luxuries. of modern civilization in a new camp. Must be the climate makes ‘em all dry out this part of the country. Anyhow, it takes a spe- Comiclbookks.corn