Twenty Years of Hus'ling
"Very well," said I, "go ahead and paint him."
He did so, and a first-class job it was.
I then started for Toledo on horse-back, but before I had traveled far,
was caught in a heavy rain-storm. I hitched my horse in front of a
school-house and went inside for shelter, by permission of the teacher.
The rain continued for about two hours, and when I returned to my horse
he was absolutely the homeliest and oddest-colored brute I ever saw. The
paint had run down his legs in streaks, and had formed a combination of
colors more easily imagined than described. On arriving at Toledo I put
my horse in a sale stable and ordered him to be sold.
The proprietor looked us both over with much suspicion, and asked from
which direction I had come.
"From the west, sir," I answered.
"From the far west?" he still further inquired.
"You'd think so, if you'd followed me," I replied.
"Well, what in the d----l ails your horse?"
"Well, sir, he fell in the Chicago River," was my answer.
Stepping to the animal, he rubbed his fingers over the rough, sticky
hair, and then placing them to his nose, said:----
"Don't smell bad,--looks's though he'd been dyed."
"Well, I wish to ---- he'd died before I ever saw him."
Upon registering at a hotel to await results, I met an old acquaintance
who was boarding there, and explained to him my predicament.
He said he didn't think I would ever be able to sell my horse with all
that daub on him, unless I explained just how I had traded for him. I
replied that to make a full statement would surely result in a writ of
replevin being served and the horse being taken from me.
A couple of days later, my friend came rushing into the hotel and
informed me that two men, one a policeman, were at the barn carefully
scrutinizing the horse.
I waited a few moments, when I walked leisurely to the barn, and after
paying for his keeping, ordered him saddled, and immediately started out
on the jump. Just as I passed from the barn I noticed a man coming on
the run towards me. I put spurs to the animal, when the man yelled,
"Halt! halt!" but I wasn't halting, and kept on down the street, looking
back at the gentleman as my horse sped rapidly along.
He then yelled: "Stop that man! stop that man!"
I kept looking back, and had just begun to congratulate myself on my
success, when suddenly my horse came to a full stop, and I landed
forward astride his neck, hanging on by his mane. I then discovered a
large policeman holding him by the bit.
I dismounted, and as the gentleman who had been running behind came up
to where we were, the police officer said to him:
"Mr. Cavanaugh, what shall I do with the horse?"
"Take him back to the stable, for the time being," was the answer.
I then said:
"I now recognize you as the gentleman and detective whom I was
introduced to a few weeks ago by an acquaintance from Bronson, Mich., at
which place I believe you formerly resided, and where I married my
wife."
"Sure enough," he answered. "Your wife and I were school children
together. Johnston is your name."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, great Heavens! you're no horse-thief!"
"Well, who in thunder said I was? I am sure I never said so," was my
reply.
"What have you painted this horse for?" he inquired.
"Well, I guess I'll have to tell you privately," I answered.
We then walked along together, and I explained everything.
"Well, this case," said he, "has been reported to the Captain of Police;
and I guess you'd better go over to his office and explain matters, and
a note from him to the proprietor of the sale-stable will help you to
dispose of the horse."
We visited the Captain, to whom I explained, and as proof of my
statement produced my papers and some newspaper clippings.
The Captain said if I was sleek enough to trade a lightning-rod agent
out of a horse with a patent right, I ought to be pensioned. He said
he'd send word to the stable-man that it was all right, which I suppose
he did. At any rate, I sold out to the proprietor inside of an hour.
I then decided to go immediately to Findlay and see what grounds they
had for wanting to arrest us.
On arriving there I spent about three hours in trying to find an
officer who would recognize me, and possibly place me under arrest. Not
successful in this, I looked for and found an officer, with whom I
managed to get into conversation, and was obliged to tell him plainly
who I was, before he would "take a tumble," as the saying is.
He then said he knew all about the trade, and was acquainted with the
men, and the circumstances of their offering the reward.
"Well, now," said I, "you arrest me, and we'll get the reward."
"But," said he, "the men you traded with have left town."
I asked if he knew why they had offered a reward for us.
He said it was because the Patentee had arrived on the scene the day
after our trade, and had remarked that Johnston had no authority to deed
away territory in his patent; for the reason that the Power of Attorney
had a clause in it which read as follows: "This Power of Attorney is
revocable in thirty days from the day it is given by the said Patentee."
They then concluded to try and arrest us, and if successful possibly
make us pay handsomely, or prosecute us.
This bit of information was relished by me, for I at once saw that the
Patentee had gotten things badly mixed. The clause he referred to, which
was the one mentioned in another chapter, read as follows: "This Power
of Attorney is revocable on thirty days' notice from the said Patentee."
Having satisfied myself, and several acquaintances of the men we had
dealt with, that we had not violated the law, I returned to Toledo,
where I met Frank, who had disposed of the carriage and harness.
He left me there; and one evening at the supper table I entered into
conversation with several gentlemen, one of whom related a few incidents
of his experience, when I also related my late experience in selling
copal varnish.
An old gentleman across the table from me then said that he had a recipe
for making a furniture and piano polish that was immense. He said it
would leave a beautiful hard lustre, was not sticky or gummy to the
fingers, and would remove all white stains from furniture, and become
perfectly dry in less than one minute from the time it was applied.
"Well, sir," I said, "I am looking for some thing of that kind, and----"
"Very well," he interrupted; "it will cost you twenty-five dollars."
I said: "I'll you five dollars before testing it."
"No, sir; not one dollar less than my price."
But he would make up a small bottle, and show me how it worked. He did
so, and I was at once convinced.
I then dickered a while with him, and after satisfying myself that I
could buy it for no less than his price, purchased it; and have always
considered it a good investment. An Incorporated Manufacturing Company
of this city now use the same recipe, supplying agents in all parts of
the country.
I immediately visited Elmore, where my wife and boy still remained.
After paying their board and a doctor's bill for the boy, I took a run
down to Clyde, arriving there "broke."
I had a long talk with my folks, and explained "just how it all
happened."
My mother said she thought I had made a splendid record for a boy with a
family.
Mr. Keefer said, "It did beat the devil."
CHAPTER XVIII.
MR. KEEFER CALLED FROM HOME--MY MOTHER REFUSES ME A LOAN--PEDDLING
FURNITURE POLISH ON FOOT--HAVING MY FORTUNE TOLD--MY TRIP THROUGH
MICHIGAN--ARRESTED FOR SELLING WITHOUT LICENSE--"IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT
POURS"--COLLAPSED--A GOOD MORAL--MAKING A RAISE.
I remained at home but a day or two, during which time Mr. Keefer was
called away on business, leaving my mother and myself to discuss the
future together. I told her of my varnish experience, and about my
recipe for the piano and furniture polish, and assured her that I had
made a firm resolution never to sell another patent right.
She said she was glad to hear that, as it had worried her night and day
during the whole time I was in that business.
I then suggested that she loan me money enough to invest in a few
bottles of polish.
"Not one cent, sir."
"Well," said I, "it won't take but about--"
"No matter," she interrupted, "if it won't take but ten cents you will
not get it from me. You have had the last cent from us you will ever
get."
I remarked that I was sorry pa had gone away.
She said it wouldn't matter, anyhow, for she had laid down the law to
him, and he would never let me have another dollar.
"Well," I asked, "won't you give me money enough to get out of town?"
"No, sir; if five cents would take you to California, you should walk it
before I'd give you that amount."
I then asked if she didn't think I was getting in rather close quarters?
"Well," she exclaimed, "you have always been determined to 'hus'le,' so
now keep 'hus'ling.'"
I then called on an old friend whom I had been owing for several years,
and after explaining my circumstances, borrowed three dollars, with
which I repaired to a drug store and procured a stock of ingredients and
bottles required for my Furniture and Piano Polish.
I then returned home, and after explaining to my mother that it would
take till the next day to prepare it, asked her if she would care if I
staid at her house one more night.
She laughed, and said she guessed she could stand it that long.
I then said:
"By gracious, you will have to give me money enough to get to the next
town, for I won't dare commence peddling polish where I am acquainted."
"Indeed I'll not give you a penny, even though you have to commence at
our next-door neighbor's," she answered.
The next day, when my bottles were filled ready for a start, I
discovered that I had no valise.
My mother said I could have that old carpet-bag that I took to New York
when I was a boy, and which had been expressed back to me with my old
clothes. I told her I thought it would be about what I needed, but if
she had the slightest idea she could sell it, or would ever need it to
make me a visit in the far west when I got rich, that I might possibly
get along without it.
She said I could rest assured that she wasn't quite so hard up as to be
obliged to sell it, and if she had to wait for me to get rich before
using it, she probably would never have occasion to do so.
I then visited the garret, where my mother said I would find the old
bag.
As I entered the dark, gloomy place, my vision encountered innumerable
relics of my past life, in the shape of toys, books, papers, skates
cart-wheels, pieces of hobby-horses, and remnants of garments made by my
mother and worn by me years before.
I thought of the days gone by, and the many pleasant hours I had spent
at the old farm house. While I was occupied with play and enjoyment, my
mother busying herself with family cares, and endeavoring to draw from
me my ideas of the business or profession I would adopt when I reached
manhood.
There flitted through my mind the many kind things she had said and done
for me, in trying to gratify my desires and boyish whims. I was reminded
that although she had often opposed me in my ideas of "hus'ling," and
was at that very time refusing to aid me, she had always been a devoted
mother, with a kind and forgiving disposition, and had never ceased to
show her anxiety for my welfare.
I realized that there must be a reason, best known to herself, for
withholding aid from me at this time.
I then began rummaging about for the old carpet-bag, which I found
hanging in a remote corner, amongst cobwebs and bunches of balm and
sage. As I gazed on the companion of my first railroad trip, there