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Walcott, Earle Ashley, 1859-1931

"Blindfolded"

We want a lot more
capital here."
Mr. Thatcher began to scratch his head and to expectorate tobacco-juice
copiously, and I suspected he was wondering what the secret might be
that he was not to betray. So I made haste to say:
"Is this stable yours?"
"Yes, sir," said Thatcher eagerly. "I've been running it nigh on two
years now."
"Pretty good business, eh, Dick?" said Fitzhugh, looking critically
about.
"Nothin' to brag on," said Thatcher disparagingly. "You don't make a
fortune running a livery stable in these parts--times are too hard."
And then Mr. Thatcher unbent, and between periods of vigorous
mastication at his cud, introduced us to his horses and eagerly
explained the advantages that his stable possessed over any other this
side of Oakland.
"Very good," I said. "We may want something in your line later. We can
find you here at any time, I suppose."
"O Lord, yes. I live here days and sleep here nights. But if you want
to take a look at the property before it gets a wetting you'll have to
be pretty spry."
My suggestion of a trade had misled the worthy stableman into the
impression that I was considering the purchase of real estate.
"I'll see about it," I said.
"There's a big rain coming on, sure," he said warningly, as we turned
back to the hotel.
It was a little after one o'clock, but as we approached our quarters
Lockhart came running toward me.
"What is it?" I asked, as he panted, out of breath.
"There's a special train just come in," he said; "an engine and one
car.


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