"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.