Nonfiction > Jacob A. Riis > Theodore Roosevelt, the Citizen > Page 321
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Jacob A. Riis (1849–1914).  Theodore Roosevelt, the Citizen.  1904.

Page 321
 
smashed. I fancy tougher things than postmasters would have a hard time resisting the swing of that strong and righteous arm bound on hewing its way; wolves howling in the woods would n’t stay it, I know,—not for a minute.
  The great day is when he goes camping with the boys. The Sagamore Hill boys and their cousins whose summer homes are near plan it for months ahead. A secluded spot alongshore is chosen, with good water and a nice sand beach handy, and the expedition sets out with due secrecy, the White House guardsmen being left behind to checkmate the reporters and the camera fiends. Mr. Roosevelt is sailing-master and chief of the jolly band. Along in the afternoon they reach their hiding-place; then bait and fishing-poles are got ready—for they are real campers-out, not make-believes, and though they have grub on board, fish they must. When they have caught enough, the boys bring wood and build a fire. The President rolls up his sleeves and turns cook.
  “Um-m!” says Archie; “you oughter taste my father’s beefsteak! He tumbles them all in together,—meat, onions, and potatoes,—but, um-m! it is good.”
  I warrant it is, and that they eat their fill!

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