Pulp Fiction, 1897 · page 8 of 16
You Bet Bob from Cross Crick — page 8: what you’re looking at
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ve “ 8 + Sb ne y 2 oS ed —— > - - “on Tt} Ps lite oe i ea <A’ i ™, + . | ne > = 2 Thar was only one thing lackin’, and | sige eee ET al Ne .e * - . 7 : nw ~ A x ~ 7 a w se? oe . + . o é p . an ee ee He called out that thar wasn’t no treat ordered, and that checked ther stampeed. “You'll git inter trouble yet,” said I ter my pard. *‘T’ll take you with me ef I do,” said he. “That is what I’m _ kickin’ about,” said I. * And I’ll rely on you ter git me out,” he said furder. “ An’ I’m blamed if I don’t let ye stay thar, ef I have ter stay with ye,” said I. By ther time the platform had been finished off nice, and et hadn’t taken long ter do et, ther actin’ mayor’s hoss was on hand. Gila Gabe got inter ther saddle, and he looked pooty decent, I have ter ad- mit, with his wide black sash in contrast with his flamin’ red shirt, but he couldn't ’proach us. Then ther time was at hand. Ther actin’ mayor picked out six stout fellers, and told ’em ter fetch forth ther corpus. They went and fetched, comin’ out bearin’ ther coffin in their arms, and when they got et outside they swung et up to their shoulders and wur ready. “Now,” called ther mayor, “fall in line, ye galoots! ” “ Hold on,” said my pard. *What’s ther matter now?” “Ain’t thar no moosic in this hyer town? ”’ ' “What do yer want with moosic?” was ther amazed demand ter oncet. “Ht would give tone to ther ’casion ef thar could be a funeral march, or some- thin’ like that,’ said Bob. “That’s so,” said I. ‘‘Can’t ye scare up somethin’ mayor?” “TI dunno as thar is anything in town,” said Gila. Et sorter tickled him ter eall him mayor. Et seemed ter fall on his ears like ther sweet note ov a tinklin’ symbul. “ Bven a juiceharp w’u’d do,” said Bob. “Ha! I have et,” cried our friend in need, Wilson. “Er juiceharp?’” asked Bob. “Naw; better’n that.” “What is et?” “Lippy Doozberry’s ’corjun.” “A ’ecorjun! ” cried Bob. “ That is jest ther chawk! ” “ Bring et forth,’ said I. “ Lippy, git yer ‘corjun, and fall in line hyer.” I looked around fer him, not knowin’ Lippy Doozberry from ther fust cousin ov Adam, A sorter silly-lookin’ half-wit came to ther front, grinnin’ like ary ape with a tickled conshuns, so ter say. ““Shill I git ’er?”’ he asked the mayor. “ Will et be right and proper?” asked ther mayor, ’pealin’ ter me. “Right and proper!” I ’sclaimed at him. ‘“ Nothin’ ye kin do could be any righter or properer. Did ye ever hear ov a great man havin’ a funeral without moosic? Look at Neepolyun, look at Ginrul Grant, look at—” “We'll have ther moosic,” said Gila. “ Lippy, git yer ’corjun and foller after me. Play ther most becomin’ chune ye know.” | Lippy wur tickled ter death. © Away he went on ther run, and while he wur gone we formed line. Ther mayor took first place, then we Jeft a place fer Lippy, and after him wur me and Bob. | _ Right behind us kem ther bearers with ther late defunct, and then ther vox popply, so ter say, ad infin ad indiscrim —or words to that effect; don’t bother to look et up. at a6 ¢ 4 — Rigs ‘ ; 2" - ‘a4 \3 es hy a Oe > Fae 7 ast > . ad =< Ig Ton * ve ES ¢ ° i bao “» md vd “Qu? Pa » ; - all Si “» wie 3 know anything about, that. CHAPTER IX. THE GRAND PARADE. Lippy Doozberry soon put in his ap- pear. He was luggin’ a monster big accorjun in his arms, and had put on a coat that had belonged to his dad, and which was severial sizes too big fer him and almost trailed in ther dust. An’ darn me ef thar didn’t come Sal Cuddyloop, too, with her hair all a- streamin’, same as my pard had told her to wear et, but she didn’t have ther hoss blanket. In place ov that she had put on a black coat that evidently had belonged to her late pardner. Ther coat was sizes too small fer her, and she filled et almost to ther bustin’. Sal was no airy fairy, be et known. She tipped ther beam at nigher three hundred than two, I’m bettin’. Yes, along she kem, and she crowded in right after ther bearers, and then she sung out to ther crowd: “Now, then, let ’er go. I am hyer ter show my ’spects to ther man that mought ‘a’ filled ther place ov Lunk Cuddyloop, ef I had only had a fairer chance at him.” She surveyed that throng, as if chal- lengin’ any one ter dispute her rights. Nobody done so. Meantime, Lippy Doozberry had took- en his place right after ther actin’ mayor. He had now onbuckled his ’corjun, and with a smile on his homely mug that was like unto ther flow ov fat over a warm griddle he touched et up a bit to see if et was in chune, Not bein’ up in moosic, I’m not p’pared ter say et was or et wasn’t. £t seemed ter me to have a disjinted come-ter- gether some’rs in ets. tone. “Now, then, Lippy,” sung out my pard, “ give us ther best ye know.” “And make et worthy ther ’casion;’ said I. “ All ready?” called ther marshal. * Let ’er go! ” “ For’d, march! ” With that, Gila waved his hand and started. Lippy struck up a chune on ther ’cor- jun and pranced after hint steppin’ proud. Then kem ther ’traction ov ther pro- seshun—me and my pard, our hosses a- prancin’ and our plumes and streamers a-noddin’ and a-wavin’ too durn purty ter menshun. After us follered ther bearers, with ther dead mayor on their shoulders in his long box, keepin’ step and walkin’ sollum and slow, and after them wur that thar Amazon, wringin’ her hands and wavin’ her arms by turns, in a sort ov hired wailer fashun. And ther moosic—wull, now, et jist beat ther band! That is ter say, et would ef et hadn’t been fer ther chune ther feller played. Et was anything but a sollum air, bein’ nothin’ more nor less than ‘that good old- time mellydy that everybody in ther world knowed ‘fore he was born— “When Johnny Comes Marchin’ Home.” But that made no difference. Ther crowd was jist in ther humor fer et. ) They soon fell inter time with their feet, and purty soon with their tungs as well. | My pard was ther first to set up ther singin’, which he done with some credit to himself and honor to Cross Crick, fer Bob has a voice. Ther hull crowd took up ther air, and in a brief spell ov while thar was sech a | bust ov song as would have done credit to a Chinese carnyvul—if ye happen ter ’ . r ot ae fs 4a +e * See 8 s ty ," é@ . . air ieee a Li fae ua ie -" 2 a : 7 ° ; - ‘ -_- . f c= uy." ’ ‘J - You Bet Bob from Cross Crick. | “What do yer think ov }’t jist the paused long enough ter say tepv ther b “ Bt is clean plum gorjus,” er ov the: him. “We couldn’t do better |ttle, and et made ter order.” | “TI ’gree with yer,” said Bolither longé “Gunsight orter be a proudey imbibe remarked. er higher “No doubt he would be, efall wur behold us in this toggery,” said to his fe “Then yer think he can’t? \ld see his him. a new th “And him dead!” sneered Bpeech, an “T mean from ther speer@hether he Bob.” . “ Sneeret world? Cy, ef he happed to ' any sech world as that, he is er ther bt ly corned by this time, and he! forth tt a hoss from a borro.”’ ie ary bla “Yer don’t git on,” said I, wth, but D ‘“‘T mean ter ask ye ef ye don’t)s plum 8 knows what is goin’ on hyer, fd at Bob place whar he’s at, ther place ofS goin’ t parted? ”’ id we kn¢ “Don’t yer s’pose ther smok s ther vision hazy?” sez he. “You're a fool,” sez I. CHé “ Admitted, pard,’’ sez he, RATIN’ ° on ther “ pard.” actin’ As ther singin’ was beginnin’|with the little by that time, me an’ Band kem | forth oncet more, full force. one foc So we went up ther gulch, tome mot! poppylashun ov ther camp in 's red a all a-singin’ ready ter bust thernocked me and Bob bearin’ ther brunta a blizz sorrer. nd did 1 Et wuz as sollum as could befase. Bym’by et dawned upon us t somethi band had changed ther chune, (cried or We, bein’ in ther front, wur hifl no ’sic slight discord that was made ’twat aire ) ) another ‘corjun and ther voices. | = We wur still marchin’ Johnnjdown! but Lippy Doozberry had swit¢f— felle onter ‘Comin’ Thro’ Ther Ryier pore natcherly the two chunes aids ay mernize wuth a persimmon. k City. Bob an’ me held up our handgo our d lence. ray!” y Ther singin’ stopped, and thn’, Gabe started et goin’ again on ther rig found And that fashion we went, to thd fer G its ov ther’camp on ther west, aret had ; we turned and paraded back agé mough off to their limits on ther east, ad, fer et up. By ther time we got back to th€8un te ov startin’ et was high noon, af"0Te, @ hull crowd wur so dry with singt, ‘° Ae they seconded my pard’s moshw” pte man, and fer ther next ten minn > pat. Gilt Hdge did a prime rushin’ b purst I tell ye. is tac Ther late departed had been d ur dis on ther platform without. Fenn € We had dismounted and given Berg an’ hosses fer feed. ep We stuck close to ther crow? ha. selves. mare ohh anin’ By ther way, a great dinner wa, gtiue prepared, all ther wimmin ov the al : ‘© your havin’ jined forces ter make et Ave thi success. >, you, Sal Cuddyloop was one ov ther}, sa ov ther enterprise, so she left U,,’) minnit ther parade was over, and ih,» after ther grand orashun by the plum mayor we wur to dine. 3 on y After ther business in ther Gil nt yo was over, all hands returned té ov e square. Ht as Thar ther actin’ mayor and imp. yo, personages mounted ther platform| \y" Me and Bob wur tight in ther Mgot; ranks thar, you bet. . ll ts . Thar wasn’t none nore ’portant ’S Ther coffin rested vn two soap bé® ,, decorated. n > yt} “2 *¢ ee Se re ~* * « .y . rae rear ther front edge.ov ther con ART | mt Ale a : vt . = ee -comicbooks.com