“Deed, it shore was a accident,” said Eradicate, trying not to laugh.  “You done did it yo’se’f!”

“I did not!  You did it on purpose; Tom Swift put you in on this!  I’ll—­I’ll—­”

But Andy had to stop and splutter for some of the lime ran down off his hat into his mouth, and he yelled: 

“I’ll—­I’ll—­Ouch!  Phew!  Woof!  Oof!  Oh!”

Then, in his rage, he made a blind rush for Eradicate.  Now the colored man had no fear of Andy, but he did not want the pail of whitewash to upset, and the said pail was right in the path of the advancing youth.

“Look out!” cried Eradicate.

“I’ll make you look out!” spluttered Andy.  “I’ll thrash you for this!”

Eradicate caught up his pail.  He did not want to have the trouble of mixing more of the liquid.  Just as he lifted it Andy aimed a kick for him.  But he mis-calculated, and his foot struck the bottom of the pail and sent it flying from the hands of the colored man.  Sent it flying right toward Andy himself, for Eradicate jumped back out of the way.

And the next moment a veritable deluge of whitewash was sprayed and splashed and splattered over Andy, covering him with the snowy liquid from head to foot!

CHAPTER IV

A PERILOUS FLIGHT

There was silence for a moment—­there had to be—­for Eradicate was doubled over with mirth and could not even laugh aloud, and as for Andy the whitewash running down his face and over his mouth effectually prevented speech.  But the silence did not last long.

Just as Eradicate caught his breath, and let out a hearty laugh, Andy succeeded in wiping some of the liquid from his face so that it was safe to open his mouth.  Then he fairly let out a roar of rage.

“I’ll have you put in jail far that, Eradicate Sampson!” he cried.  “You’ve nearly killed me:  You’ll suffer for this!  My father will sue you for damages, too!  Look at me!  Look at me!”

“Dat’s jest what I’se doin’, honey!  Jest what I’se doin’!” gasped Eradicate, hardly able to speak from laughter.  “Yo’ suah am a most contrary lookin’ specimen!  Yo’ suah is!  Ha!  Ha!”

“Stop it!” commanded Andy.  “Don’t you dare laugh at me, after throwing whitewash on me.”

“I didn’t throw no whitewash on you!” protested the colored man.  “Yo’ done poured it over yo’se’f, dat’s what yo’ done did.  An’ I jest cain’t help laughin’, honey.  I jest natchally cain’t!  Yo’ look so mortally distressed, dat’s what yo’ does!”

Andy’s rage might have been dangerous, but the very excess of it rendered him incapable of doing anything.  He was wild at Eradicate and would willingly have attacked him, but the whitewash was beginning to soak through his clothes, and he was so wet and miserable that soon all the fight oozed out of him.

Then, too, though Eradicate was old, he was strong and he still held the long handle of the whitewash brush, no unformidable weapon.  So Andy contented himself with verbal abuse.  He called Eradicate all the mean names he could think of, ending up with: