"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!"
