Twenty Years of Hus'ling
We told him that his neighbors would very soon learn that he had a horse
and carriage there, and would necessarily have to have an explanation as
to the ownership.
We then suggested putting the whole rig, horse and all, into the cellar,
which we did; and then remained there three days, eating spring chickens
and new potatoes. We paid our friend's wife three dollars per day for
keeping us and our horse, besides fifty cents apiece for young chickens
which were about one-third grown. This was twenty-five cents more than
she could have gotten for them had she kept them till they were full
grown. Yet she worried a great deal about killing off her young
chickens. Every time she cooked one for us she would declare that she
didn't believe it paid, and she wouldn't kill any more till they grew to
full size.
We undertook to argue her out of the idea, by showing how many bushels
of corn each chicken would eat before fall, and the low price it would
bring at that time.
She said: "It didn't make any difference. Common sense taught her that a
chicken wasn't worth as much when it was one-third grown as when full
grown, and she didn't care to sell us any more."
CHAPTER XVII.
VISITING MY FAMILY AT ELMORE--HOW WE FOOLED A DETECTIVE--A FRIEND IN
NEED--ARRIVING AT SWANTON, OHIO, BROKE--HOW I MADE A RAISE--DISGUISING
MY HORSE WITH A COAT OF PAINT--CAPTURED AT TOLEDO--SELLING MY
HORSE--ARRIVED HOME BROKE.
Three days later I borrowed a saddle and started on horseback toward the
west, leaving Frank to dispose of the buggy and harness.
I returned to Elmore the second night out, about nine o'clock. After
putting my horse out, called at the hotel to visit my wife and see the
boy.
The next day, while we were sitting in our room, the landlord, Mr.
Hineline, came up, saying that a detective was down in the office, or at
least a man claiming to be one, making all sort of inquiries about us.
I instructed the landlord, who was a sharp, shrewd little gentleman, how
to act and what to say, and instructed my wife to enclose a letter in
an envelope, and, after addressing it "J. P. Johnston, Mt. Vernon, O. If
not called for in 5 days forward to Columbus; if not called for in 5
days forward to Dayton," she slipped down to the office and asked the
landlord to please mail it for her. He carelessly laid it down on the
desk near the detective, who lost no time in jotting down the full
directions.
The last we saw of him he had bought a ticket and was taking the first
train for Mt. Vernon.
In a couple of days I started towards the west.
I came very near making two or three horse-trades, and no doubt would
have succeeded, if I hadn't felt every minute that some one was going to
swoop down upon me, and capture me and my horse.
I didn't feel as if I ought to stop a minute anywhere. I could look
ahead to certain places where I thought no detective on earth could
discover me till I could make a deal; but when I would reach there I
invariably felt the same as at all other places, and was constantly on
the alert watching the corners, which alone was enough for any one man
to busy himself at.
I arrived the following Sunday at Grand Rapids, Ohio, a small town on
the Maumee River, and also on a canal. I put my horse up, and took
dinner at the hotel; after which a very hard-looking character, claiming
to have lost all his money gambling with his chums, the river men,
stepped up to me in the barn and asked if I would give him money to pay
for his dinner.
"Certainly," I said, handing him twenty-five cents, saying, as I did so,
"I'll give you half of all I possess." He thanked me, and said:
"Say, you're a gentleman, and I'll give you a pointer: There's an
officer here after you."
That was all he had to say. I then said:
"Here, help saddle and bridle my horse, quick!"
He did so, and helped me to mount, and with a long stick which he picked
up, struck my horse across the hip and yelled:
"Now you're all right!" as I passed out on a full gallop. Just as I was
leaving the barn I heard a voice cry out:
"Stop that man! Stop that man!"
"Go it, you son-of-a-gun!" my new friend yelled; and I did "go it."
I steered my course toward Swanton, arriving there that night, with just
twenty-five cents in my pocket.
I had an old friend living there who was a painter by trade, besides
numerous acquaintances. It will be remembered that it was at this same
town I had resigned my position as Telegraph operator a few years
before.
I very soon called on my old landlord, who gave me a hearty welcome.
After putting my horse out, I settled down for the night.
The next morning I called on my friend, who had just finished a job of
painting, but could not collect his bill at once, and being a little
short himself, was unable to assist me.
I asked if he had a good credit there, and he replied that he could buy
anything he wanted on time.
I then asked if he could hire a horse and buggy on those terms, and he
said he could.
"Well then, you come to a drug store with me and we will buy some patent
medicine, or something that we can sell to the farmers, and we will
travel through the country with your hired rig, leading my horse behind,
and peddle from house to house on our way to Adrian, Mich., where I can
possibly sell my horse, and you can then return home."
He then suggested that it would be a good scheme to take a pot of copal
varnish and brush along, and take jobs of the farmers to varnish pieces
of furniture, charging a certain price for each piece.
"Well," said I, "why not sell them the varnish, and let them do the work
themselves?"
"But they can buy all the varnish they want right here where we buy it."
"That's true," I answered, "but they can't buy _our_ kind at _any_ drug
store."
He laughed, and said he guessed I'd find people in that country up to
the times.
"Very well, then, so much the better, if they are, for they'll want
something new; and I don't think there has been any one along selling
them ounce bottles of copal varnish for fifty cents!"
No, he said he hadn't heard of any one doing so, and didn't think it
could be done.
I insisted it could be done.
We then called on the druggist, who had plenty of varnish, but only four
empty bottles in stock.
We got a tin pail, and bought one gallon of varnish and the four
bottles.
The druggist exhibited some brushes, saying we would have to use one to
apply the varnish while showing it up.
"No, thank you," I replied. "All I want is a piece of Canton flannel.
It won't do to apply it with a brush. I understand your people here are
up with the times. If so, they want something new."
He said he thought it extremely new to apply varnish with a cloth.
We started immediately after dinner, and commenced operations one mile
out of town.
The very first house we stopped at--and an old log one, at that--I sold
the lady three bottles for one dollar, one each for herself, her mother
and her sister.
When I delivered them out of my coat pocket (we had no valise or sample
case), I said to her:
"Madam, I put up this preparation myself, and I have run short of
bottles. Can't you empty the polish into something else and let me
retain these?"
"Certainly," she answered, and stepping to the pantry, she opened the
door, when I noticed several bottles on the shelf.
"Now, I'll tell you what I'll do. I will trade you some more of my
preparation for a few of those bottles."
"All right. It's a trade."
I returned to the buggy loaded down with bottles of all sizes, shapes
and colors, and a dollar bill, which looked the size of a barn door to
both of us.
I then carried our pail of varnish into the house and paid her liberally
for the bottles.
I called at every house thereafter, and never missed making a sale till
the eighth was reached, when the old lady declared emphatically that she
didn't have fifty cents in the house.
Then I asked if she had any eggs. She said she had.
"Very well; I'll allow you twenty cents per dozen for them, but you must
give me an old box of some kind to put them in."
She was anxious to trade, and when I started off with two and one-half
dozen, she said she believed I might have the other five dozen if I'd
give her two more bottles. I accommodated her, and as I left she said
she was sorry John hadn't gathered the eggs the night before, so she
could let me have more of them, as I was paying more than they had been
getting.
I told her I'd wait while she gathered them.
She started to do so, but suddenly changed her mind, saying she thought
I had sold her enough of my patent staff, anyhow.
When I rejoined my new partner and friend he was delighted, and asked
why I didn't trade for the chickens.
We met with flattering success, making frequent trades as well as many
cash sales. Among other trades was one I made with a lady for a
sheep-pelt. Although I had not dealt in them since my early experience,
I ventured to make an offer of one bottle of my preparation, which was
accepted.
We staid that night with a German farmer, who looked suspiciously at our
extra horse; and when we retired to a little six-by-eight room, way up
in the garret, he took the pains to lock us in.
My partner said he guessed the old Dutchman took us for horse-thieves.
"Well," I answered, "I guess he will take us for wholesale varnish
peddlers before I get through with him."
The next morning, after we were liberated, I began at once to ingratiate
myself in the confidence of the old lady, in order to effect a sale.
Immediately after breakfast I introduced the patent furniture lustre,
and before I had half finished my story the old lady cried out:
"I take 'em, I take 'em; how much?"
I then said:
"How much do I owe you?"
"How many oats did your horses eat?"
"Oh, about a bushel."
"One dollar," she said.
"Very well," said I, "my price is one dollar, but you have been very
kind to lock us up for the night, and I'll give you two bottles for your
trouble."
Before leaving, I traded her some extra lustre for some empty bottles;
and this plan I kept up during the day.
We arrived at Blissfield, Mich., where we disposed of our eggs at ten
cents per dozen, and realized forty cents for the sheep-pelt, after
which we replenished our stock of varnish.
I had now become more interested in my new business than in the sale of
my horse; and concluded to abandon the trip to Adrian, and return to
Swanton, where I could dissolve partnership with my friend, and continue
the business alone, on horseback if necessary.
On our return trip to Swanton I continued to trade for eggs, where
customers were short of cash; and one lady said she couldn't understand
how I could afford to pay twenty cents per dozen when the market price
was but ten cents.
"Well, madam, you see, that's the trick of the trade."
"But," said she, "the merchant we deal with is as tricky as any one; but
he won't pay only ten cents a dozen for eggs."
"Yes," I answered, "and he makes you take groceries and dry goods for
them, too, while I give you something you need in exchange for them."
She said, "That's so."
When we returned to Swanton we had nearly twenty dollars in cash, and
that many dollars' worth of stock on hand at retail price.
I now felt very anxious to sell my horse, as my patent-right experience
was quite sufficient to convince me that such a business was no business
at all.
My horse was a handsome dapple grey, and my friend said he could paint
him a dark color, and so completely disguise him that no man could
detect him.
I suggested that it might also be a good idea to paint me, or at least
my auburn hair.
He said he wouldn't undertake that job, but he knew he could fix the
horse.