318 A YANKEE TRADE. 



"Hen" Capen drove into Clark Street, Hartford, be- 

 fore the sun was up. Peter Pointdexter was just 

 putting the finishing touches on the proverbial forty 

 winks before getting up, when he heard a wagon 

 stop in front of his door, and, with an eye to business, 

 stuck his head out of the window to see what was in 

 the wind. He soon learned that he was wanted, and 

 on coming down to the yard, he found "Hen" with 

 tears running down his cheeks, weeping and wailing 

 over how he had been beaten in that horse trade. 

 The only excuse he had to offer was that he was drunk 

 and he felt that Peter Pointdexter, owner of a big 

 estate and a good business, should at least give him 

 $25 more. Now, Peter was "as close as the bark to 

 a tree," as the saying goes, but it tickled him to have 

 "Hen" Capen, the prince of horse traders in Windsor, 

 admit that he had bested him at his own game, so, 

 after no end of hemming and hawing, he pulled out 

 his wallet and handed over two tens and a five, which 

 made the difference between the two horses $75. 



In a few days Peter Pointdexter found that the 

 horse he had of "Hen" Capen was a counterfeit, 

 and that the longer he had him, the worse he became. 

 Someone had apparently fixed him up for the trading 

 market or "Hen" had done it himself. Who, he did 

 not care to inquire, as his pride was touched ; but like 

 a good betting man, he decided after thinking it over, 

 that the best, place for a man to find his money was 

 to go and look for it where he lost it. The next move 

 was to find "Hen" Capen without letting that indi- 

 vidual know he was looking for him. A week 

 slipped by without seeing him, and all that time the 



