outstretched hands.

"You wait! You wait! You'll suffer for this!" he spluttered, as soon
as he could free his mouth from the trickling fluid. Then, wiping it
from his face, with his hands, as best he could, he shook his fist at
Tom. "I'll pay you and that black rascal back!" he cried. "You wait!"

"I hopes yo' pays me soon," answered Eradicate, "'case as how dat
whitewash was wuff twenty-five cents, an' I got t' go git mo' to
finish doin' a chicken coop I'm wurkin' on. Whoa, oar Boomerang. Dere
ain't goin' t' be no mo' trouble I reckon."

Morse did not reply. He had been most unexpectedly repulsed, and, with
the white-wash dripping from his garments, he turned and fairly ran
toward a strip of woodland that bordered the highway at that place.

Tom approached the colored man, and held out a welcoming hand.

"I don't know what I'd done if you hadn't come along, Rad," the lad
said. "That fellow was desperate, and this was a lonely spot to be
attacked. Your whitewash came in mighty handy."

"Yais, sah, Mistah Swift, dat's what it done. I knowed I could use it
on him, ef he got too obstreperous, an' dat's what he done. But I were
goin' to fight him wif mah bresh, ef he'd made any more trouble."

"Oh, I fancy we have seen the last of him for some time," said Tom,
but he looked worried. It was evident that the Happy Harry gang was
still hanging around the neighborhood of Shopton, and the fact that
Morse was bold enough to attack our hero in broad day-light argued