"Look here, white folks," began the negro, "Ah don't want no trouble, but youall mustn't go rangin' aroun' thoo mah place like this here 'thout 'splainin' yourselfs. This is mah fahm."
"Yes, it is your farm," cried Frank. "You've got as many farms as a hen's got teeth! All your farms are in your mind!"
"Nemmine about dat, boys," grinned the black. "Jes' youall tell me where youall's gwine, else mebbe somepin' gwine happen!"
"You're right, something's going to happen, and that mighty suddenly!" was Jack response. "This'll happen to you!"
He swung his arm up. Tom expected momentarily to hear the report of an automatic. Instead he saw the negro's face lighted brilliantly by the dart of flame from the imitation automatic which was fitted as a searchlight. The powerful electric light blinded and dazzled the man on whom it was thrown.
"Now, look here, fellow!" began Jack in a threatening tone. "If you don't stand one side and tell me your name at once, I'll put this light square on your foot and that foot'll wither up and tomorrow this time, it'll drop off. I could do that to your head, too, if I wanted to. But you will probably not make it necessary for me to do so. At least, I hope not."
"Lordy, Boss," stuttered the now thoroughly frightened man, "Don't youall point that there thing mah way no mo'. Ah don't like hit--Ah pointedly does not. Youall needn't be afraid of me."
"Nobody's afraid of you, you big lummix!" declared Tom, now coming forward. "What's your name, anyhow?" he demanded.
"Mah name's Doright Abraham Jefferson Davis Canaan. Ah don' know de rest ob it. Ah 'spects dey done forgot to tell me all."
"Well it's a good thing your shoulders are broad enough to carry that much of a load," laughed the boys. "That's enough."