Prehaps he did.
On another occasion Uncle Obed appropriated—we scorn to charge him with stealing—a cow which had had the misfortune to lose her tail. Stepping into a tannery, he cut off a tail, and sewed it on to the fragment which yet decorated the hind quarters of the stolen animal. He then drove her along towards the next market, and having to cross a ferry, had just got on board the boat with his booty, when down came the owner of the missing cow, "bloody with spurring, fiery red with haste," and took passage on the same boat.
He eyed his cow very sharply, while Uncle Obed stood quietly by, watching the result of the investigation.
"That's a pretty good cow, ain't it?" said Uncle Obed.
"Yes," replied the owner, "and if her tail was cut off, I could swear it was mine."
Uncle Obed quietly took his knife out of his pocket, and cutting the tail short off above where the false one was joined on, threw it into the river.
"Now, neighbor," said he, triumphantly, "can you swear that's your cow?"
"Of course not," said the owner. "But they look very much alike."
After stealing something or other, we forget what, Uncle Obed was observed, and the sheriff was sent in pursuit of him, in hot haste, mounted on a fine and very fast horse. After a hard run, Uncle Obed halted at the edge of a rough piece of ground, pulled off his coat, and pulled down about a rod of stone wall, then quietly went to work building it up again, as if that was his regular occupation.
Presently the sheriff came riding up on the spur, and reining in, asked Obed if he had seen a fellow running for his life.