“I am glad to see you, Curtis,” returned Mr. Roosevelt.

Then there came a white rose from the presidential desk for the mother, but after that father and mother might as well have faded away.  Nobody existed save the President and the boy.  The anteroom was full; in the Cabinet-room a delegation waited to be addressed.  But affairs of state were at a complete standstill as, with boyish zeal, the President became oblivious to all but the boy before him.

“Now, Curtis, I’ve got some pictures here of bears that a friend of mine has just shot.  Look at that whopper, fifteen hundred pounds—­that’s as much as a horse weighs, you know.  Now, my friend shot him”—­and it was a toss-up who was the more keenly interested, the real boy or the man-boy, as picture after picture came out and bear adventure crowded upon the heels of bear adventure.

“Gee, he’s a corker, all right!” came from the boy at one point, and then, from the President:  “That’s right, he is a corker.  Now you see his head here”—­and then both were off again.

The private secretary came in at this point and whispered in the President’s ear.

“I know, I know.  I’ll see him later.  Say that I am very busy now.”  And the face beamed with smiles.

“Now, Mr. President—­” began the father.

“No, sir; no, sir; not at all.  Affairs can wait.  This is a long-standing engagement between Curtis and me, and that must come first.  Isn’t that so, Curtis?”

Of course the boy agreed.

Suddenly the boy looked around the room and said: 

“Where’s your gun, Mr. President?  Got it here?”

“No,” laughingly came from the President, “but I’ll tell you”—­and then the two heads were together again.

A moment for breath-taking came, and the boy said: 

“Aren’t you ever afraid of being shot?”

“You mean while I am hunting?”

“Oh, no.  I mean as President.”

“No,” replied the smiling President.  “I’ll tell you, Curtis; I’m too busy to think about that.  I have too many things to do to bother about anything of that sort.  When I was in battle I was always too anxious to get to the front to think about the shots.  And here—­well, here I’m too busy too.  Never think about it.  But I’ll tell you, Curtis, there are some men down there,” pointing out of the window in the direction of the capitol, “called the Congress, and if they would only give me the four battleships I want, I’d be perfectly willing to have any one take a crack at me.”  Then, for the first time recognizing the existence of the parents, the President said:  “And I don’t know but if they did pick me off I’d be pretty well ahead of the game.”

Just in that moment only did the boy-knowing President get a single inch above the boy-interest.  It was astonishing to see the natural accuracy with which the man gauged the boy-level.

“Now, how would you like to see a bear, Curtis?” came next, “I know where there’s a beauty, twelve hundred pounds.”