Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, March 1922 · page 11 of 68
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang #31 — page 11: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This page contains the beginning of a humorous short story rather than a political cartoon. The narrative describes a weary traveler seeking shelter at a Tennessee mountain cabin during the Prohibition era (implied by references to "mountain dew" and "moonshine"). The story appears to be setting up a crude joke: after drinking moonshine and removing his shoes to warm his feet by the fire, the hounds suddenly react with alarm and hide under the bed "as if they had gone crazy." The implication is that the traveler's feet smell so bad they frighten the dogs—a common earthy humor style for *Whiz Bang*, a magazine known for bawdy, working-class humor. There's no overt political satire here, merely rustic comedy centered on bodily humor, frontier hospitality, and the social customs of Appalachian mountain life. The story remained unfinished on this page.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
Captain Billy's Whiz Bang 9 The Ornery Pups A traveler in the Tennessee mountains sought refuge one evening at a wayside cabin. He had traveled all one chill, April day and was cold, hungry and footsore. With true mountain hospitality the old mountaineer invited him to supper, and insisted that he spend the night. The host made him comfortable before a huge open fireplace, and set a jug of mountain dew beside his chair. Also introduced him to his eighteen-year-old daughter, who was the only other occupant of the cabin, unless we may include four lank hounds stretched before the fireplace. The old man hastened out to look after his chores and the girl busied herself in the kitchen. The cabin was typical of the region, having two rooms, one containing a bed and two chairs, and the other serving as kitchen and dining room. The traveler, left to himself, took three or four heavy shots of the moonshine and soon forgot his weariness and the chill of the April day. He divested himself of his shoes, settled himself with a sigh of content, and steamed his sopping feet in the glow of the fire. Shortly one of the hounds raised his head, languidly, and sniffed suspiciously. He scrambled to his feet, howled mournfully and dived beneath the bed, the others following him as if they had gone crazy. A piteous