ed otherwise, he abode grimly by the statutes
therein made and provided. Nevertheless he returned to his shop and
proceeded to cut up a quarter of beef with an energy of concentration
and a ruthlessness of fury that caused Potts to shudder as he passed the
door sometime later. By such demeanor, also, were the bondsmen of
Westley--the first flush of their righteous enthusiasm faded--greatly
disturbed. They agreed that he ought to be watched closely by day, and
they even debated the wisdom of sitting up nights with him for a time,
turn by turn. But their charge dissuaded them from this precaution. He
expended his first vicious fury usefully upon his stock in trade, with
knife and saw and cleaver, and thereafter he was but petulant or
sarcastic.

"I had the right of it," he insisted. "The only way to do with a person
like him was to git your feathers and your kittle of tar cooked up all
nice and gooey and git Potts on the ground and _make a believer of him_
right there and then!" This he followed by his pointed reflection upon
the administrative talents of Solon Denney--"A hand of mush in a glove
of the _same_!" When listeners were not by, he would mutter it to
himself in sinister gutturals.

Nor was he alone in this spirit of dissatisfaction with Solon. The
too-trustful editor of the _Argus_ was frankly derided. He was a Boss at
whom they laughed openly. They waited, however, with interest for the
subsequent issues of this paper.

The _Banner_ that week contained the following bit of news:--

=DASTARDLY ASSAULT IN BROAD DAYLIGHT=

=Early last Thursday evening, as Colonel J. Rodney Potts, dean of the
Slocum County bar, was enjoying a quiet stroll along our beautiful river
bank near Cady's mill, he was set upon by a gang of ruffians and would
have been foully dealt with but for his vigorous resistance. Being a man
of splendid proportions and a giant's strength, the Colonel was making
gallant headway against the cowardly miscreants when his foot slipped
and he was precipitated into the chilling waters of the mill-race at a
point where the city fathers have allowed it to remain uncovered. Seeing
their victim plunged into a watery grave, as they thought, the thugs
took to their heels. The Colonel extricated himself from his perilous
plight, by dint of herculean strength, and started to pursue them, but
they had disappeared from sight in the vicinity of Crowder & Fancett's
lumber yard. Things have come to a pretty pass, we