Next morning George Stratton was on the railway train speeding towards Cincinnati.

As he handed to the conductor his mileage book, he did not say to him, lightly transposing the old couplet-- "Here, railroad man, take thrice thy fee, For spirits twain do ride with me." George Stratton was a practical man, and knew nothing of spirits, except those which were in a small flask in his natty little valise.
When he reached Cincinnati, he made straight for the residence of the sheriff.

He felt that his first duty was to become friends with such an important official.

Besides this, he wished to have an interview with the prisoner.

He had arranged in his mind, on the way there, just how he would write a preliminary article that would whet the appetite of the readers of the Chicago _Argus_ for any further developments that might occur during and after the trial.