ComicBooks.com Register / Loginit's free!

Pulp Fiction, 1862 · page 95 of 134

The Land Claim — page 95: what you’re looking at

📖 Open the full issue in the page-flip reader →
The Land Claim — page 95: Pulp Fiction, 1862

A restored page from Pulp Fiction, 1862. 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.

TOO LATE. 91 in the field of combat. The wind abated, and though the rain came down in heavier torrents than before, and the dark- ness thickened around her, this was less frightful and less dangerous than the previous storm. She now resolved to call Allen’s name at intervals, in the hope that he might be searching for her, but too bewildered by the darkness to dis- cover where she was. Adopting the peculiar tone used in the West to call aloud any one at a distance, she shouted, with ail her might and strength: “Q-o-h, Allen! O-o-h, Allen!” She was answered by a hail only a short distance off, and, in another moment, flying to meet her lover, found herself clasped in his arms. “My poor darling!” he exclaimed, as he felt how wet and chilled she was. -“ Are you alone?” she asked. “Yes. I started first, but the constable is not far behind. Forgive me, dear, for being so long away. I was detained a. few minutes by an accident, and then the storm almost pre- vented my getting here at all. My love, how you must have suffered! But how is your prisoner—safe ?” “He is gone—escaped with his comrades.” “Escaped!” exclaimed Allen, in a voice of unspeakable disappointment. Alicia hastened to relate all that had happened. “I shall never forgive myself for leaving you exposed to such perils,” he said, drawing her closer to his bosom. « Poor little girl! there is no end to her troubles !” Alicia did not know why there was such a pathos in his voice as he uttered these pitying words. She only thought how much he loved her, to show such tenderness; gnd nestled closer to his breast in grateful confidence. Soon the constable’s lantern twinkled between the trees, and the lovers turned to meet him. Mr. Wyman held the light to Alicia’s face, and shook his head gravely. “Strange work for our little girl,” he said, sadly; then speaking to Allen, he inquired for the prisoner. “He is escaped—got off during the storm, by the help of some of the gang. He had a boat down at the bluffs, he said, and may be over in Iowa by this time.” — comicbooks.com