"Ef I gits holt on yo'—ef I does, yo' great, big, overgrown lummox, Ah'll—Ah'll—" began the colored man, stammeringly.
"There. That will do now!" interrupted Tom. "Don't quarrel in here. Koku, get back to that engine and lift out the motor. Eradicate, didn't father tell you to whitewash the chicken coops to-day?"
"Dat's what he done, Massa Tom."
"Well, go and see about that. I'll stay here for a while, and when I leave I'll call one of you, or some one else, to be on guard. Skip now!"
Having thus disposed of the warring factions, Tom turned to the stranger and after apologizing for the little interruption, asked:
"You wished to see me?"
"If you're Tom Swift; yes."
"Well, I'm Tom Swift," and the young owner of the name smiled.
"I hope you will pardon a stranger for calling on you," resumed the man, "but I'm in a lot of trouble, and I think you are the only one who can help me out."
"What sort of trouble?" Tom inquired.