As a deer hunter, I’m a good farmer. Spent ten days tramping the windfalls in the neighborhood of Breezy Point Lodge without even seeing a deer. Saw plenty of polecats, bobcats and house cats, and nearly captured a “porky.” I learned lots about the habits and habitations of the northern pine animals and finally managed to knock down a “spike buck” (whatever that means) on the last day of the hunting season. Must admit the buck almost shook hands with me before I was able to knock him over. However, I had a very good guide, Arthur Foote by name, but better known as “Panther Pete.” Pete has earned a regular living for twenty-five years as a trapper and deer hunter, and I am sure that the small buck never would have fallen for me had he not enticed the animal to leave his forest retreat.
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While touring the San Francisco underworld as the guest of the police vice squad on my recent tour of the Pacific coast, we encountered what the police considered a suspicious party.
He was one of those dapper young men with a red necktie that frequent this section of Famous Frisco.
“What’s your occupation?” asked one of the policemen of the young man.
“I’m a business man,” was the answer as the young man started to trip blithely away.
“Wait a minute,” said the cop. “I never saw a business man walk like that.”
“Oh,” replied the dapper youth, “but you don’t know what kind of business I’m in!”
Thirty days for him.
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