N. Y. Copyright l"V. by 'l'.ur,lL-j Cr., hi-.- l.riiL-: pi ■ «-. Inf." Ysil,!* suhsi:i-ip:ir,r Single copy: in." in [ , riir L -l St.,.,-,. I Jit-.; i, I .L.-..I . Ir.L.L.L:. 1,1 ' Y.i:l:l \ \-\ , , (Mk:...n. M....II .'. H.ul i. I" WW II,!, St.. Nl-i> Y.irt IK, Nl. Y. Hi:ir„ li-.- , — t , .:..:,, PI.JI ., ■: . !;>.,... (..■;.:■.(;.,, H^,:,! S,,-. b-r i,,.-,,, I.,n..::.l <>:!,-:: .1 '..::„:„„,., I S-„.:. •■'(>. I'...-: -|,-..i:i. W ■ [ .rl-, ir y nii. ("Mi.. T.'.A. Will;..,! I. l':i|: t . Indent: ].in,-. li L-J.r',- - "--' .r Prinlinj- Co., Wi^bury JI1. C>.,i. C,v-,„ pI i,,l c J .„:,.! ■.^.,,;.,;,„.v. !,oi 1:1 J hy The Curtis! \{ Corn.. Moiidcn. Cnnn. PKIr- If the name of a fystfCtsbk A GREAT PUBLICITY STUNT? A HILARIOUS HOAX? OR THE MOST FANTASTIC KIDNAPPING AND GEM- THEFT IN THE ANNALS OF CRIME? BUSTER CRA BBE AND WHISKERS FIND THE ANSWER 4000 MILES AWAV--AND FIND THEMSELVES 'fN THE MOST DANGEROUS PREDICAMENT OF THEIR DANGER-PACKED CAREER... The Gulf of Mexico unexpectedly delivers an amazing sight to the people of Galveston, Texas.,. Meanwhile, downstairs, new arrivals add further interest to t he proceedings? WE'RE FROM THE IMMIGRATION X HERE'S WHERE BUREAU^ IF YOU'RE FOREIGNERsJtHE PUBLICITY YOU'LL HAVE TO PRODUCE ^y BALLOON PASSPORTS OR BE HELD \ ( GOES BANGf FOR ILLEGAL ENTRY,' ) WE'RE AMERICANS-- WHEN j f YOU DON'T THE PUBLIC RELATIONS ""5 * HAVE TO - WE COMPANY HIRED US , THEY ^ KNEW IT WAS l DIDN'T TELL US TO CARRYJ -PUBLICITY STUN CREDENTIALS. SO WE f jA CAN'T PROVE IT . t&-% A few days lateral Yaounde, copilol of Co meroon . THE 2WAKAKAS? THAT TRI8E MOVED THE JUNGLE VALLEYS BETWEEN THE MONG MA-LOBAMOUNTAINS AN ALMD5T INACCESSIBLE REGION/ Despite their tremendous size and strength, gorillas are just gs susceptible loapuncrt in 1 the jaw as any human.' 3, - Wf WHEW.THAT WAS CLOSE? ^| ,- ;ji ,ii, ^ ^satf^* - *?* W^WHISKERS rh soy sea fhimr WORK? DOIN' WHAT? YOU BEEN IN THE CLINK 20 YEARS, NITRO — THINGS AIN'T LIKE THEY WAS. ONLY WAY FER A GUY TO MAKE A BUCK TODAY 15 8' GETTIN* AN HONEST JOB. I "" I HUH? I« ** . .... *w. THE LAW'S BEEN TRYIN' TO CATCH UP WITH THAT HOMBRE FER A LONG TIME SET OUT OF RANGE TARZAN,' THERE MIGKT KLEAD SLUGS FLYING ALLOVER TH' PLACE A MINUTE THE KIND-HEARTED KILLER THERE was one thing all the famous gun- fighters of the old West hid in common, whether they were on the eight or wrong side Of" the iaw — they'd shoot a man dead without a moment's hesitation, and without regret. One possible exception was Wild Bill Hickok. After he'd killed one man and then whirled about to kill another walking up behintf him, he noticed, too late, that this second victim was a good friend of his. It is said that on that occasion, Hickok did ex- press regret over the incident, but he also pointed out that (he unfortunate accident would not have happened if the fool hadn't walked up behind him like that. Clay Allison, that deadly gun-fighter of the South- west, was like them all in his complete indifference to human life. He'd kill a man ior any unreason- able" reason, But, nevertheless, he was also en- tirely different from the others of his calling. Tor one thing the others todk their stand either on the side of the law or against the law. Allison did both. The law, .as such, meant nothing to him. The thing that mattered was whether the law happened to be right or wrong in his opinion. Usually it was right, for Allison was no highwayman or claim- jumper. Another big difference between Clay Allison and his fellow-killers was that he did not depend en- tirely on his six-shooters. Unlike the others he was quite willing to risk his life without them. - Once, in Colfax Count)'. New Mexico, in the year 1871, he and another gentleman got into an argument about something — probably the weather, or something equally important. Since differences were more quickly settled with bullets than words, Allison politely suggested they dtuw for if. In a case like that, the challenged party -cither accepted the invitation, and got himself killed, or declined, and got himself branded a yellow coward not fit to live with other people— oilier people who had never enjoyed the opportunity to make this choice between death or respectability. But the challenged man refused to be limited to these two alternatives — neither of which appealed to him very much, "Mr. Allison." the man pointed out, "you are unusually adept in the art of drawing, aiming and firing a revolver— so adept that /, being an ordi- nary man, haven't a chance against you. Is that right?" "That's right," Allison concurred happily. "That being so, why should I place myself at such a disadvantage? And why should you, if you are not a coward, take such advantage over me?" It was a good question. But it didn't impress those who heard it. Those were days of action, not talk, Allison shrugged. "What do you propose we do?" he asked. "Fight it out on equal terms. Say, knives?" Had Allison shot him dead then and thete, chances are the citizens would have approved the action whole-heartedly. N.ot only was the man up- setting all traditions, he was hitting below the belt! Allison could kill him and claim self-defensel But Allison was a different breed of gunman. "All right," he agreed, smiling, "with khives. And to the death." "To the death," repeated his enemy solemnly. "The winner to bury the loser," added Allison- "A duel -with knives and shovels." "So be it." And so tt was. The two men dug 8 grave six feqt deep, eight feet long, andthree feet wide, a few miles oubide the town. When it was finished, they climbed in at either end, each stripped to the waist and armed with a razor-sharp knife. When the referee called "Go," the two men advanced upon each other. The battle was bloody but brief. It was Allison that climbed out of the grave. He was bleeding from a number of deep wounds, but when a man rushed over to assjst him, he pushed him away. He picked up a shovel and started tilling the grave. "That can wait." said the man. "We've got to get you to a doctor!" Allison continued shovelling. "The agreement "was that the winner would bury the loser." Clay Allison didn't leave until the grave was filled. lift had to be carried back to town. A year later, Allison got into another argument- tin's time with a young contender named Bill Chunk who was trying hard to acquire a gun-fighter repu- tation for himself. Bill Chunk had killed a lot of peopfe but ne\er anybody of much importance, and he didn't intend to pass up this opportunity to get into the big time. When he met Allison, he started an argument. Allison slapped him across the face. The other occupants of the saloon in which this drama was taking place made room for the two men who stood there, glaring at one another. Bill Chunk's voice was hard, cold, "You know what this means, Cluy?" "The next move is yours. Bill." Bill Chunk stood there as Allison waited for him to draw — but somehow, now that he had accom- * plished his purpose, he wasn't jo sure anymore that he -wanted to, go through with it. Thinking about beating Clay Allison to the draw -was one thing — doing it was something else again. Bill Chunk realized he'd bitten off a bigger chunk than he cared to chew. But there was no way-out now. He sucked in a deep breath, readied himself for a lightning lunge at his gun — and found himself paralyzed. ' He couldn't move. Allison made it easy for him. "Tell you what," he drawled. "Let's make it a little different for a change. Let's get on our horses and charge each other as we shoot. Let's give the folks a show." Grateful for even that slight respite, Bill Chunk quickly agreed. He was even mo.e grateful when Allison suggested they have dinner first. A man r about to die cherishes every minute he has left to live, and Chunk was no exception. They went into the Clifton House, the best hotel in Raton, New Mexico, at that time, and seated themselves in the dining room. They ordered the best meal in the house, for it would be the last meal for one of them. Bill Chunk decided he enjoyed eating too much to call it quits now. He shifted his fork to his left hand. As his left hand brought, the forkful of food to his mouth, his right hand brought his sixgun out of his holster. That's the way he died. A fork in his mouth, his gun on the table, and a bullet between his eyes. The difference between Clay Allison and the other famous gun-fighters of the old West didn't stop with these idiosyncracies. Unlike the others, he looked like the Hollywood version of a Western hero. He stood well over six feet, lean and supple. His hair was chestnut-color and shoulder-length. The mustache he wore did little to disguise his almost too handsome face. He was a strange man for a killer. He consis- tently broke the first rule of the gun-fighter, which wis always to shoot first and ask questions later. 1 And he consistently broke the second rule, which was to mind one's own business. For example, in July, 1871, ho was in therough mining town of Trinidad, Colorado, when a wagon arrived with an old white-haired man at the reins with a young lady beside him on the driver's seat — A beautiful girl with yellow hair and big blue eyes. All eyes were upon the girl. The citizens of Trinidad had not seen such a sight in many a year. They all fell silent, looking at her. Brigido Cordova was the law of the town. As Marshal, he felt it his duty to welcome the new- comers into town — a chore he had neglected with other newcomers. But then, there had never been r like this. ^ He started toward the wagon, but a soft voice from behind made him stop in his backs. The voice said, "Leave her alone, Cordova. They look like decent folk."- ", The Marshal turned to face Clay Allison. He was the law, but Allison was a bigger law- as far as the Marshal was concerned. "Sure, Clay ..." he , said. "Sure . . . "■ The girl and her father — Susan Shaw was her name — settled down in the region. Marshal Cor- dova kept his distance for weeks but couldn't get the girl off his mind. When Allison seemed to have forgotten the fact that the girl even existed — he didn't, want her for himself, as Cordova had thought — the Marshall went to call on the Shaws and become better acquainted. He courted the girl in earnest thereafter, until the father learned that Cordova was married and had a family elsewhere. The father ordered him away. Cordova refused to go and threatened to arrest the old man for obstructing the laic — which was him. The old man shot him dead. Cordova, being town marshal, had a lot 'of friends. Being the sort of marshal he was, he had the kind of friends he had. The friends converged upon the Shaw residence with a rope. Old man Shaw, however, refused to do the right thing by the mob and come out to be lynched. He , wanted to shoot it out first. The mob solved the problem by setting fire to his house. Susan Shaw and'her father were in a tight spot — but not quite as tight as they thought. Clay Allison, hearing about this business, rode up and addressed the mob of lynchers rhusly: "I'm on the Shaws' side." The lynch mob stood and stared at him for a long moment, and then, suddenly, it was every man for himself, An old man and a young girl was one thing — Clay Allison was something else. They didn'fwant to mess with him. And here again is where Allison is different. If he had a personal interest in the pretty girl (after all, he was human, or ttw he?) bis heroism would make sense. It might even make a nice ap- propriate endingf to .this story — what with Susan Shaw in the arms of our hero, and they lived hap- pily ever after — but Allison just rode back to his ranch and never went out of his way to see the Shaws again! Maybe he knew there was no room for romance i in his danger-packed life^or maybe he just wasn't interested. One guessjs as good as another. . . ' As a gun-fighter, it was inevitable that Allison go the way of all gun-fighters — a bullet through his heart, a sixgun in his hand— but here again he was different! He lived to hang up his guns in retire- ment. He was killed, not by a gun, but by a wagon he was. racing when he fell trom the scat in the path of the heavy wheels. ... A strange end to a strange man. ... Ik ■ )h. jtfL If jp ^^^owie ( another ^p bite? ain't never Hatched so many fish inallmyborneddays ^ Helton lake's FAMOUS FER FISHIN'— BUT I NEVER .SEED IT LIKE THIS* y AW DFU5 HISKERS OUGHTAw!t*^M //£"/he's th' only one ^BB tlHO AIN'T CAUGHT ONE YET/Jggj ^ OH,ISTHATSO?WHY,YOU V J NUMBSKULLS CAN THANK ME FOR EVERY FISH YOU'RECATCHIN'f IF IT WASN'T FER ME THERE'D BE I5&L - ONLY OHEftSH IN THIS J^~X lake' s- —* w * S\ (S3£\ ' JK w aWk ^S^ V "•^s&k^&^l m Mt^ w "~ fP^*_^^Y— ^ ifttt^ 11 ^tf£^ HOW'S THAT ) WHOT KIND OFi/f ) "TAIN'T NO LIE- AGIN? ' J YUH COOKED UP/'TIS THE GOSSI NOW* T— — PEL TRUTHfWW ' KIN LOOK UPTH'STATE RECORDS IF YUHDONT V BELIEVE ME. J -^ i^^\h**' K S. V*^ ^r^~ ^*^ jT ^"^r-I .1 1 "~ Sal .3. lPt»i^ *B^S& •Aj M L^LL^«a£vu j!S ^ra — ygJj W SI ■r ^ * felton lakewuz called "fisherman's folly | back in th' ol' days. there wuz only onefr in it--too biqto catch — and he ate upall the little fishes as soon as they were hatched/ mtut ri^ n fh' Degimin this fish just 6 baby art th' fisherman sort of brung i! up,so's to speak... | MMMM ''THE SETTLERS TRIED BRINGIN ' IM FISH EGGS, *\ ( Yup, 0\' Betsy WUZ ftQUiQT seo monstefflf but NOSOOKER did they hatch out THAN J ( got so she mislook rowbools fer cosHn- plugs.,. i&jp*?! InJeee show you CAN SBfA rial STICKER FOR YOUR. FAMILY CAR... WRITS TO! Religion 1m American Life 269. fourth avenue new york 10, new york PREPARED IH COOPERATION WITH RELISHON IN AMERICAN LIFE AND THS ADVERTISING COUNCIL BY THE ASSOCIATION OF COMICS MAGAZINE PUBLISHERS... 9m W^ ^ ^^ ^r ■ /"WHAT ARE > Hi<2&& YOU SHOULD BE A MEMBER OF THE BUSTER CRABBE WESTERN CLUR « - «. <•*»« and mail with 25c In coin and you will re- ceive an autographed photo and an Officio/ and. Uldbahaphlld. fi/wio Badge as a Member of the WESTERN CLUB. dtfV*" if- ,> • , To; BUSTER CRABBE, P.O. BOX 233, NEW YORK 46. N. Y. ENCLOSED IS 25c IN COIN. PLEASE SEND ME BUSTER CRABBE'S PHOTOGRAPH AND HIS OFFICIAL WESTERN CLUB BADSE.