A MOUNT BAKER once had a VASHON of trying to STARTUP a business in a little FERNDALE covered with an OLYMPIA of STANWOOD and LYNNWOOD trees. "But," he thought, "it WHIDBEY hard to SEATTLE in the land. The ANACORTES lurk in the rivers and MOUNT VERNON roam the surrounding hills. Even if a man were to survive their attack, he would be in a TACOMA for ever and EVERETT. He would be gobbled up like a CHUCKANUT or CUSTER pudding. He would be only a BELLINGHAM in some beast's stomach."
Nevertheless, he mounted his BIRCH BAY and, with a GOLD BAR, a CAMANO of beans and a BOTHELL of water in his NOOKSACK, he rode through the deep, white SNOHOMISH to the top of a mountain where he had a sweeping BELLEVUE of his future home. What he didn't know was that he was standing right beside the LYNDEN of the largest cougar in the land. The cat weighed a BURLINGTON if not a whole DARRINGTON. Its fur was SEDRO WOOLLEY and it had a MONROE of spike-like teeth.
But as the cat ran towards him, the baker smelled its PUGET odor and turned to strike down the beast with only a BLAINE ALLEN wrench he happened to pull out of his pocket. The awesome feat, a very SULTAN experience for the poor cougar, can be looked up in the INDEX of any good encyclopedia.
Afterwards, the man was MARYSVILLE and confident. He rode down to RENTON a little shop, married a beautiful valley woman with AUBURN hair, and his EDISON succeeded him in his thriving business.
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