donned, first having taken the precaution to make holes in them and get
them muddy.

"Now I'm all ready," he said to Tom one day, when his disguise was
complete. "I'm going over and try my luck."

He left the house by a side door, so that no one would see him, and
started down the walk. As he did so a voice shouted:

"Hi, there! Git right out oh heah! Mistah Swift doan't allow no tramps
heah, an' we ain't got no wuk fo' yo', an' there ain't no cold victuals.
I does all de wuk, me an' mah mule Boomerang, an' we takes all de cold
victuals, too! Git right along, now!"

"It's Eradicate. He doesn't know you," said Tom, with a chuckle.

"So much the better," whispered Mr. Damon. But the disguise proved
almost too much of a success, for seeing the supposed tramp lingering
near the house, Eradicate caught up a stout stick and rushed forward. He
was about to strike the ragged man, when Tom called out:

"That's Mr. Damon, Rad!"

"Wh--what!" gasped the colored man; and when the situation had been
explained to him, and the necessity for silence impressed upon him, he
turned away, too surprised to utter a word. He sought consolation in the
stable with his mule.

Just what methods Mr. Damon used he never disclosed, but one thing is
certain: That night there came a cautious knock on the door of the Swift