for the slide in the canal," Tom
said. "And I suppose I could take you across the continent in my
airship, Mr. Titus, if you object to railroad travel."

"No, thank you, Tom. If it's just the same to you, I'd rather stay on
the ground," the contractor said. "I'm more used to it."

A day or so before the start for San Francisco was to be made, Tom,
passing a store in Shopton, saw something in the window he thought Mary
Nestor would like. It was a mahogany work-box, of unique design,
beautifully decorated, and Tom purchased it.

"Shall I have it sent?" asked the clerk.

"No, thank you," Tom answered.

He knew the young lady who had waited on him, and, for reasons of his
own, he did not want her to know that Mary was to get the box.

Carrying the present to his laboratory, Tom prepared to wrap it up
suitably to send to Mary, with a note. Just, however, as he was looking
for a box suitable to contain the gift, he received a summons to the
telephone. Mr. Titus, in New York, wanted to speak to him.

"Here, Rad!" Tom called. "Just box this up for me, like a good fellow,
and then take it to Miss Nestor at this address; will you?" and Tom
handed his man the addressed letter he had written to Mary. "Be careful
of it," Tom cautioned.

"Oh, I'll be careful, Massa Tom," was the reply. "I'll shore be
careful."

And Eradicate was--all too careful.

Chapter VI

Mr. Nestor's Letter

"Got t' git a good strong box fo' dish yeah," murmured Eradicate, as he
looked at the beautiful mahogany present Tom had turned over to him to
take to Mary. "Mah Landy! Dat suttinly am nice; Ah! Um! Jest laik some
ob de old mahogany furniture dat was in our fambily down Souf."
Eradicate did not mean his family, exactly, but the one in which he had
been a slave.

"Yassum, dat shore am nice!" he went on, talking to himself as he
admired the present. "I shore got t' put dat in a good box! An' dish
year note, too. Let's see what it done say on de outside."

Eradicate held the envelope carefully upside down, and read--or rather
pretended to read--the name and address. Eradicate knew well enough
where Mary lived, for this was not the first time he had gone there
with messages from his young master.

"Massa Tom shore am a fine writer," mused the negro, as he slowly
turned the envelope around. "I cain't read nobody's writin' but hisen,
nohow."

Had Eradicate been strictly honest with himself, he would have
confessed that he could not r