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:——