Twenty Years of Hus'ling
long been one of the favorite recipes of Mrs. Owens' Cook Book.
From Fort Wayne we went back through Ohio and stopped at Findlay, where,
just as we were about to close a trade, I received a letter from the
patentee saying he had bargained to sell out all his right to one man,
and requested me to return the papers at once, and not to make another
sale under any circumstances.
I complied with his request. The next day we met on the streets of
Findlay a gentleman having a sample band-cutter--an attachment for a
two-tined fork, to be used when threshing.
The man who pitched the bundles from the stack to the machine cut the
bands on each bundle at the same time he pitched them. This had just
been patented, and he was anxious to have us take the agency for the
United States. We concluded to do so, and went to a lawyer's office and
fixed up a Power of Attorney for the whole United States from him to me.
Profiting from my experience in losing a good sale, as just related, I
had the following clause added: "This Power of Attorney is revocable
upon thirty days notice from the said patentee."
The attorney then informed me that according to the United States laws
we would be compelled to have our Power of Attorney recorded at
Washington, D. C. We therefore sent it on for that purpose, with
instructions to the Recorder to mail it to Fort Wayne, Ind., as soon as
possible.
On our way back to Fort Wayne we stopped off at Lima one day, and at
that place had our valise stolen from the depot. It contained all the
shirts and collars and cuffs belonging to both of us, except those we
had on, besides other articles of value to us.
This left us in hard luck, as we had only about money enough to buy each
of us another shirt, a box of paper collars and cuffs, and some cheap
socks upon arrival at Fort Wayne.
It was economy to wear paper, so as to lighten our laundry bills.
Another exceedingly bad feature of our loss was the absence of a piece
of baggage to help convince the landlord of our responsibility.
However, we ventured to a very respectable hotel, where we engaged a
first-class room, and waited patiently for the return of our Power of
Attorney from Washington. The landlord was a very pleasant, agreeable
gentleman, quite suitable to our convenience. We made it as pleasant as
possible for him. A stranger might easily have mistaken one of us for
the proprietor and him for the guest.
By telling innumerable good stories, and constantly reminding him of his
excellent qualities as a hotel-keeper, and the wide reputation he bore
as such, we managed to "hold him down," as we termed it, very
satisfactorily.
In the meantime we were constantly on the alert for some one who would
like to speculate, so we could make a deal without delay, after the
arrival of our papers from Washington. After being there about three
days, we concluded to change shirts, which brought our new ones into
requisition. We then sent the ones we took off to a washerwoman, a few
doors away. These we left with her until obliged to make another change.
When that time came, three or four days later, we were at our wits' end
to know how to get possession of the clean ones, as we were completely
stranded.
We held a consultation, and almost every imaginable scheme suggested
itself. At last we hit upon one that seemed feasible.
A bright young boot-black frequented the hotel corner, and had taken
quite a fancy to us, and given us an occasional complimentary shine.
We asked him to our room, and informing him that we had a great plot
that needed his assistance, we required him to make an oath never to
"give it away," nor to betray us in any way, shape, form or manner. He
agreed to swear.
I then procured a Bible from the landlord, and "the kid," as we called
him, placed his left hand on the Book, and raised his right, as I
administered the oath.
He swore by all the Gods in Israel, and all the people in Indiana, that
he would be true to his trust.
Frank and I then took off our shirts, and wrapping them in paper,
informed "the kid" of our predicament, and of the fact that we would be
obliged to remain shirtless in our room while he took the bundle to the
washerwoman and left them as security for the laundered, without money
and without price.
We gave him special instructions, just how to manipulate matters in
order to be successful.
He said: "Oh, what cher giv'n us? Don't yer s'pose I know how to 'fake
de ole hen'?"
He scampered off, and returned very shortly with our laundry, when we
hastened to make our toilet for the six o'clock dinner.
We expected our papers from Washington inside of ten days from the time
we sent them. In this we were disappointed, and were compelled, to use
"the kid" several times to carry out "de exchange act" "wid de ole hen,"
as he called it.
After repeating it several times, he came in one evening very much
excited, and said:
"Yer can bet yer life it was by de skin o' my teeth I ever collar'd der
wash dis time. De ole gal's gittin' dead on, an' says if de gemmen are
such big-bugs dey better settle; but I gin' her a great song an' dance,
an' squeared her up."
We asked if he had any idea she would stand another deal of that kind.
"Yer can bet I'll fix 'er," he replied.
Frank then said: "Well, you young rascal, you can bet you'd better 'fix
'er.' Don't you ever be guilty of leaving the dirty shirts unless you
get the clean ones in their stead. If you ever come back here without
any shirts, I'll throw you out this window, as sure as you're a live
kid."
The next Saturday, late in the afternoon, we called "the kid" in to do
"the exchange act" again. We gave him some special instructions,
desiring him to distinctly understand that it wouldn't be healthy for
him to venture back to us without two shirts of some kind.
He didn't seem to have the same assurance and confidence as usual, but
said "he'd fix 'er." We remained in our room, sitting on the bed without
shirts about the usual length of time, when, "the kid" not returning, we
began to feel a little shaky.
Directly the door flew open, and in came the chambermaid, and rushed to
the commode with clean towels. We had forgotten to lock the door. Frank,
with his fund of ready wit, instantly jumped to the floor, and sang out:
"Well, put on your gloves again; I'll try you one more round before
supper!"
When the door closed on us we had a good laugh, as we had frequently
indulged in, when sitting there in that awkward, shirtless, expectant
predicament.
Our laugh, although hearty, was of short duration, for we suddenly
became serious and anxious about the return of "the kid." An hour passed
and no kid, and--still worse--no shirts.
We walked the floor, opened the door and looked towards the stair-way,
then raised the window curtain and peeked out upon the street, hoping to
get a glimpse of him.
Another half hour passed, and no "kid." We imagined everything that
could have befallen him.
Two hours passed; another half hour--and we had been imprisoned two
hours and-a-half--and it was now about supper time.
A few moments later I opened the door, and looking towards the
stair-way, discovered "the kid," leaning over the bannister, gazing
vacantly in the direction of our room.
I yelled:
"Come here, kid! For Heaven's sake, what's up?"
"Yer never'll git me inter de room, ter be pitched out de winder," he
replied.
"No, no," we said, "come in; come in and explain. We won't harm you.
Come in."
He then ventured in, very cautiously, and explained:
"Well, sir gemmen, de ole gal nailed 'em all, spite of eb'ry ting I
could do; she got de whole shootin' match, and I didn't know whedder to
come back or not."
"Heavens and earth! Frank; what are we going to do now?" I asked.
"Well," said he, "this has been a great scheme of yours. That's a great
head, yours. Guess we're stuck for good, this time."
"The kid" said he guessed he'd have to go to supper.
We told him we guessed he'd not go to supper till he got us out of that
shirt scrape. "Remember your oath, you young hyena," I said.
He answered: "That's so; guess I'll have to go without my supper,
to-night."
At last, after many schemes had been devised and rejected, we hit upon
one that helped us out. We demanded of "the kid" that he take off his
shirt; and after donning his coat and vest, instructed him to throw back
his coat-collar, and go down street to some furnishing-goods dealer, and
either beg, or buy on credit, a shirt. We began telling him what to say,
when he headed us off with:
"Oh, whatcher givin' us? I guess I know how ter give 'em der stiff," and
started.
He called on several dealers; and after giving "De song and dance,"
finally made a raise of a new shirt.
We asked what the man said when he called for such a large size?
"Oh, de ole hoosier neber tumbled at all, but just planked 'er out, and
said: 'If yer eber git any money, come an' pay fer it.'"
We asked if he thought he could manage to get another one in the same
way.
He said he was afraid to try, because an officer was going to run him in
"'cause he hadn't any shirt on, and looked so tough."
I then donned the shirt, also a paper collar and cuffs, and went down to
supper, leaving Frank to silent meditation.
After eating, I returned to the room, took off the shirt, and Frank put
it on and went to supper, while I remained and did the meditation act.
He staid away more than two hours, which worried me considerably.
I wondered what upon earth had become of him, but felt certain he was
too true a friend to abscond with my half of the shirt.
Even if it wasn't paid for, I knew by right that I owned _half of that
shirt_.
When he did return he brought good news.
He had spent over an hour with a furnishing-goods dealer, "squaring him
up" so as to buy some things on credit.
When asked with what luck, he answered:
"Well, I ordered six shirts, six pairs of socks, two dozen linen
collars, one dozen pairs linen cuffs, and one dozen handkerchiefs, with
instructions to send them to the hotel office, and Mr. Johnston would
send them a check in a day or two," and added that the goods would be
delivered that evening.
"But, Frank," I said, "you will get us into trouble. How can we fix the
check business? You know I can't send them one. It'll make us trouble,
sure."
"Very well, it can't make us any worse trouble than we are having. As
for myself, I'd rather go to jail with a shirt on, than to sit here in
this dingy, gloomy old room half of my time without any."
"Yes," I said, "that's so. I'd rather go on the chain-gang for thirty
days, than go through another such an ordeal as this."
The goods were not sent as promised, and we spent a very restless night.
I dreamed of arriving home without any shirt on, and in my dream heard
my mother's voice saying: "Well, I am really glad you reached home with
your pants on," while Mr. Keefer remarked: "It does beat the d----l!"
Frank dreamed he was in attendance at a swell entertainment, and
suddenly discovered the absence of his shirt.
I insisted that Frank should not sleep in the shirt, in order to keep it
clean as long as possible, and to keep peace he laid it off when
retiring. In the morning I was the first one up, and proceeded to put it
on.
As I was passing through the hall on my way to breakfast, I met the
chambermaid. She smiled and asked if we made a practice of sparring
every day.
I replied: "We always take our regular exercises."
She said: "How nice it is to be rich. Just see how much pleasure you
gentlemen take in your every-day amusements, while people like us have
to work hard, and never have any pleasure."