From the age of ten Jack Crabb was a Cheyenne. He claimed to be a hundred and eleven years old and to have seen action with Wyatt Earp and General Custer, and he certainly knew what it was like to be surrounded by savages yelling for his blood. Once he'd roamed the plains with the out-of-luck but proud tribe of redmen he could never really be a white man again. Not even when they stole his Swedish wife and made her a squaw. To the Cheyenne and himself Jack Crabb was always Little Big Man.

Magnum paperback 1978, ISBN 0 417 02530 0 (journal picture does not correspond)

One of my favourites! Read it at least three or four times.

RELEASE NOTES:

Geht mit ans Meeting in die Berner OBCZ (O Bolles, Bollwerk).