Word: rabbited
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...farmer's son, instead, of leading books on fertilizers, on grafting, on pheasant raising, as more sensible fellows may be doing, spends his evenings listening to talk about the condition of the soap and toothpaste industry, about stocks and bonds, about Florentine painting, about Peter Rabbit. To combat this absurdity the universities of Iowa, of Pittsburgh, and the Kansas State Agricultural College have seen fit to sow the wind with orderly knowledge, sending lectures through the air, giving college credits to those who can pass examinations on what they have heard. Last week these seats of airy learning announced...
...automobile driver arrested for almost running over the President on a Washington street (TIME, Sept. 28) was fined $35. Said he: "A gross injustice has been done me. I have driven for six years and never harmed even a chicken or a rabbit. My record is clean, and I have been humiliated and insulted by the Government, not for any wrong, but because I thought the signal of a kiddish' looking Secret Service man was the prank of a small boy, I missed the President by twenty feet...
...Herds of wild horses watched the party as it passed, galloping away in a billowing cloud of dust if the automobiles paused. Running with one of these herds was a lone mule. Here and there lay the dismembered bodies of colts slain by cougars. Now and again a jack rabbit would scamper across the trail. Towards night the distant yelping of coyotes was audible...
...Manhattan, a tall gray-haired man in a dinner jacket followed a small brunette into the night club of one Texas Guinan. Waiters gaped. Broadway brahmins stared at each other with a wild surmise. "It's Harry Thaw," they said. The famed slayer, onetime maniac, rabbit-fancier, danced with the brunette, entertained many at his table, sent incredible tips to orchestra-players, listened to a song composed in his honor...
...fell back before another ("Captain Hal," howled Owner Kaiser). Where was Quatrain? Waiting for an opening. Where was Kentucky Cardinal? Nowhere. Another horse was out now, pressing at the withers of the gallant Captain Hal, at his shoulder, at his muzzle, was clearly bumping himself like a black witch rabbit. Only one man now believed that Quatrain had a chance: he was Sande, bent to the shoulder of Flying Ebony. He could outrun Captain Hal he thought, but Quatrain was the best horse in the race, the horse he had wanted to ride; Quatrain could catch him. He was running...