senator's boy and I
stampeded the elephants and invited the senator's boy to bring his young
friend around to the white house to supper. Well, we went.

I forgot what we had to eat, I was so interested in the president's
conversation. He talked about the show business as though he had been a
ringmaster in a circus. He said he was in the show the day before when
we stampeded the elephants, and he told us about his hunting trips in
the west, until I could smell bacon cooking at the camp fire, and I
could smell the balsam boughs they slept on, on the ground.

When he let up a little on his talk, I braced up and asked him if he had
rather shoot wild cats and bears than be president. He hedged and said
both occupations worked pretty well together and he had enjoyed 'em
both. Then I asked him if he was going to run for president again, and
he winked at his wife, and then he asked me what made me ask the
question. I told him pa wanted me to find out. I told him all the boys
wanted him to run, 'cause he was a good feller, and not afraid of the
cars.

The president laughed and said: "Well, it's this way. The president
business is a good deal like bear hunting. You get on a fresh track,
either in politics or bear hunting, and follow the game with dogs, or
politicians, as the case may be. The trail keeps getting fresher and by
and by the game is in sight, and the dogs are nipping its hind legs, if
it is a bear, or chewing big words if it is an opposing candidate, and
nipping him in exposed places. You ride like mad, your clothes or your
reputation torn by briars if it is a bear, or by opposition newspapers
if it is a political campaign, and you wish it was over, many times, and
are so tired you wish you were dead. Finally your bear or your opponent
in politics is treed and the dogs are trying to climb the tree, and your
bear or your political opponent is up on a limb snarling and showing his
teeth at the dogs or the politicians, and then you ride up, look the
ground over, wait till your heart stops beating and fire the shot at a
vital part, and your bear or your political opponent comes tumbling to
the ground. When he ceases to kick you put your foot on his neck and
feel sorry you killed him, but you go to work and skin him and hang his
hide on the fence. Then you have got to ride all night to get to camp,
if it is a bear, and work harder than a man on a treadmill for four
years, if it is a presidential candidate you have skun.