"Ve gates, schoolmeister? Py golly! Here, Mr. Shackson, is our
schoolmeister a vurkin mit spade and bick. How vas you like dat
kind of vurk, Mr. Shackson?"

"Never could be such a darned fool; sooner steal," answered Jackson.

Duffendorf laughed until he nearly fell into the cellar. Now this
talk was very offensive. I knew Mr. Jackson was defendant in a case
then pending. He had been charged with conspiring to defraud; with
having stolen three horses; with illegally detaining seventy-five
dollars; and on other counts which I cannot remember just now. The
thing was originally very simple, even Duffendorff could understand
it.

Mr. Jackson was in want of some ready money, so he directed his hired
man to steal three of his horses in the dead of night, take them to
Chicago, sell them to the highest bidder, find out where the highest
bidder lived, and then return with the cash to Joliet. The hired man
did his part of the business faithfully, returned and reported to his
employer. Then Mr. Jackson set out in search of his stolen horses,
found them, and brought them home. The man expected to receive half
the profits of the enterprise. The boss demurred, and only offered
one-third, and said if that was not satisfactory he would bring a
charge of horse-stealing. The case went into court, and under the
treatment of learned counsel grew very complicated. It was
remarkable as being the only one on record in Will county in which a
man had made money by stealing his own horses. It is, I fancy, still
'sub judice'.