The Wasp, 1913 · page 290 of 364
The Wasp — 1913 — page 290: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This appears to be a serialized story rather than a political cartoon. The narrative describes Bill Hook disposing of a corpse (Tom Croft's body) in the forest while other men sleep, then returning to their camp where Tom's absence is discovered at daybreak. The text references "the defender of superstitions" and "the fateful number," suggesting this is a fictional tale involving superstition-related conflict. The phrase "the red-headed instrument of fate" likely refers to Bill Hook himself as the agent of Tom's death. The humor appears ironic: Bill, appearing ill with "morning chills," successfully deceives the group about his involvement in Tom's death. When one character remarks Bill "got 'im" (killed Tom), James Burnham's response suggests dark humor about the situation. Without additional context about *The Wasp* magazine's date, intended satirical targets, or the story's full narrative arc, the specific social or political commentary remains unclear. This reads as sensationalist fiction typical of 19th-century American periodicals.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
THE WASP 285 Owing to his weakened condition, Bill experi- enced no little difficulty in getting the dead body away without awakening the eleven sleepers. He managed it at last, however, in the sweat of his yel- low brow. He was fortunate enough to find a deep hole in the floor of the forest within a few hundred yards of the scene of the operation, and into this he stowed the corpse of the defender of superstitions. The fateful number had claimed its victim; and the red-headed instrument of fate cleaned his knife and his hands, returned to his sleeping comrades, and lay down peacefully beside the captain. All were astir at daybreak—all except Tom Croft. Several of them were tactless enough to look at poor Bill Hook, who was just having his morning chills, as if they had not expected to see him. They hal- looed for Tom, but only the echoes answered them. They looked again at Bill; and Bill smiled painfully back at them despite the chattering of his teeth. “Dead of his own physic!’ exclaimed one. “Bill got ’im.” James Burnham laughed. “Tf Tom is dead,” he said, “then he’s got his own Comicnooks.com