Text comic, circa 1924, maybe? Either the first or second part of a story called The Last Eagle. The panel numbers are relatively arbitrary, meant to indicate we're two years into this strip's run. Not unlike Aunt Fritzi in the strip known today as Nancy, enthusiastic girl reporter Avi is the main character of the strip up to this point, though I reckon she'll soon have to compete with Aquila for the strip's attention.
Why do they refuse to tell each other their names? I hadn't thought of names for them yet.
Text comics like this were a common form of comics up until the late 1930s, early 1940s, when they were largely subsumed by the balloon style made popular by the rise of the American comic book during the war. However, they remained either popular or at least common in the Netherlands as late as the 1950s, because the conservative Christian culture that was the norm reckoned the balloon style was not proper reading.
The best-known of the text comics in the Netherlands is probably Marten Toonder's Tom Poes, which ran from 1941 until 1986. Sample:
Totally randomly selected sample of a completely different strip from a totally randomly selected 1930s Leeuwarder Courant:
Why do they refuse to tell each other their names? I hadn't thought of names for them yet.
Text comics like this were a common form of comics up until the late 1930s, early 1940s, when they were largely subsumed by the balloon style made popular by the rise of the American comic book during the war. However, they remained either popular or at least common in the Netherlands as late as the 1950s, because the conservative Christian culture that was the norm reckoned the balloon style was not proper reading.
The best-known of the text comics in the Netherlands is probably Marten Toonder's Tom Poes, which ran from 1941 until 1986. Sample:
Totally randomly selected sample of a completely different strip from a totally randomly selected 1930s Leeuwarder Courant:
Transcript:
556. There's the wind and the sand, there's the water and the sun, and then, when her eyes open, there's the face of a warrior. Hardened, like the steel of the warrior's sword, the face demands, "Who are you?"
557. "I get that question a lot," she replies, covered in sand, wet to the bone. "People seem very curious about me, and they never seem to like the answers I give them. Maybe this time you go first."
558. "I am the Emperor's Left Hand, Last of the Eagles, and the Protector of this Island."
"So you don't have a name, either, I see."
556. There's the wind and the sand, there's the water and the sun, and then, when her eyes open, there's the face of a warrior. Hardened, like the steel of the warrior's sword, the face demands, "Who are you?"
557. "I get that question a lot," she replies, covered in sand, wet to the bone. "People seem very curious about me, and they never seem to like the answers I give them. Maybe this time you go first."
558. "I am the Emperor's Left Hand, Last of the Eagles, and the Protector of this Island."
"So you don't have a name, either, I see."