first streak of dawn, and then pushed on for a couple of hours before halting to take breakfast and to let the little mare have a good feed.  No plainsman needs to be told that a man should not lie near a fire if there is danger of an enemy creeping up on him, and that above all a man should not put himself in a position where he can be ambushed at dawn.  On this second day I lost the trail, and toward nightfall gave up the effort to find it, camped where I was, and went out to shoot a grouse for supper.  It was while hunting in vain for a grouse that I came on the bear and killed it as above described.

When I reached the settlement and went into the store, the storekeeper identified me by remarking:  “You’re the tenderfoot that old Hank was trundling, ain’t you?” I admitted that I was.  A good many years later, after I had been elected Vice-President, I went on a cougar hunt in northwestern Colorado with Johnny Goff, a famous hunter and mountain man.  It was midwinter.  I was rather proud of my achievements, and pictured myself as being known to the few settlers in the neighborhood as a successful mountain-lion hunter.  I could not help grinning when I found out that they did not even allude to me as the Vice-President-elect, let alone as a hunter, but merely as “Johnny Goff’s tourist.”

Of course during the years when I was most busy at serious work I could do no hunting, and even my riding was of a decorous kind.  But a man whose business is sedentary should get some kind of exercise if he wishes to keep himself in as good physical trim as his brethren who do manual labor.  When I worked on a ranch, I needed no form of exercise except my work, but when I worked in an office the case was different.  A couple of summers I played polo with some of my neighbors.  I shall always believe we played polo in just the right way for middle-aged men with stables of the general utility order.  Of course it was polo which was chiefly of interest to ourselves, the only onlookers being the members of our faithful families.  My two ponies were the only occupants of my stable except a cart-horse.  My wife and I rode and drove them, and they were used for household errands and for the children, and for two afternoons a week they served me as polo ponies.  Polo is a good game, infinitely better for vigorous men than tennis or golf or anything of that kind.  There is all the fun of football, with the horse thrown in; and if only people would be willing to play it in simple fashion it would be almost as much within their reach as golf.  But at Oyster Bay our great and permanent amusements were rowing and sailing; I do not care for the latter, and am fond of the former.  I suppose it sounds archaic, but I cannot help thinking that the people with motor boats miss a great deal.  If they would only keep to rowboats or canoes, and use oar or paddle themselves, they would get infinitely more benefit than by having their work done for them by gasoline.  But I rarely took exercise merely as exercise.  Primarily I took it because I liked it.  Play should never be allowed to interfere with work; and a life devoted merely to play is, of all forms of existence, the most dismal.  But the joy of life is a very good thing, and while work is the essential in it, play also has its place.