Judge — June 7, 1924 — page 24: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

We all should get a chance to see these championship bouts. How I Captured a Bufflewhacker On expedition to Africa consisted of my great grandfather, my second cousin, the wife of our head butler, the twins and myself. We did not particularly want to take along the twins, but there was nobody to leave them with except the chauffeur and he could not wash them and the three cars at the same time, even with two assistants. We were assured how- ever, that there was plenty of milk where we we of the going, except along one stretch 1ez Canal. I must pass over our ve which was without incident. What ned me most was the constant statement made by other sportsmen we met that there were no more Buffle- whackers. However, I was certain in my heart of capturing one, and in this the final event proved me right. We arrived in the heart of the African forest at 6.30 daylight saving time. the following morning at nine o'clock, before the other members of the party, with the exception of the twins, were well awake, I motioned to Oogly Googly, my trusty gun bearer, and to- gether we stole away through the jungle. Missionaries had reported only the day before that while conducting a camp meeting four miles to the north, several Bufflewhackers had been seen feeding on the wild parasol trees that are so preva- lent in this region. It was therefore with joyful hearts that we set out. We had not gone more than two miles when Oogly Googly, who was sitting on the hood in front peering ahead as a lookout, wildly motioned me to stop the car. I did so at once. Directly in front of us I saw the most thrilling sight I ever expect to see, a gigantic Bufflewhacke his knees two little Bufflewhackers, them quietly partaking of am bobbed asparagus that evidently they had been at some pains to gather Just at this moment in my excitement I leaned forward, directly on the button of the siren horn on the steering wheel; at the sound of the horn the elder Buffle- whacker looked up, directly at me. I must here disagree with the able reports made by my friend Sir Earnest Scupper- handler, who s distinctly that the Bufflewhacker’s expression, when aroused, hatred. My Buffle- whacker, on the contrary, only showed the natural annoyance of any human being is one of great who attempts to go out on Sunday after- noon in search of recreation. Before we could do anything further about my unfortunate slip, however, they all rose and slowly disappeared to. the right. Oogly Googly motioned me that there was nothing else to do but to leave the car and follow them. This I di although walking any distance alw puts me out of humor. For some time we proceeded in intense silence. It was There wasn’t at this point a habitation in sight. The air was gorgeous with color and I particularly enjoyed the thrilling mating song of a canary, who kept flitting just ahead of us. Then again Oogly Googly chitched my arm. I was just about to take from him my 4-11-## heavy elephant howitzer, weighing only slightly over 400 pounds, when, with the intuition that has always been with me at these critica T realized it was too late me the huge Bufllew seen feeding. ul moments, Just behind acker Thad T could have touched him with my fountain pen. In another in- stant we were wrapped in a deadly embrace. I could feel his great’ teeth sinking into the football suit— “nt from the captain of the Harvard team— and I knew that in ten or fift they would certainly Then I felt behind me. Just before I left a friend of mine, a Jersey bootlegger, had thrust a flask into my hands. It was but the work of a moment to bring forth this flask. With a deft movement 1 uncorked it and flung the contents full in the Bufflewhacker’s face. © When skinned and brought back in the truck that we had provided for the purpose, my Bufflewhacker weighed a full thirty pounds. Tromas L. Masson. on minutes reach through. comicbooks.com