He made it a point to encounter the Colonel on an early day and to address him on Main Street in tones that lacked the least affectation of suavity or diplomatic guile.

He had seen diplomacy tried and found wretchedly wanting.

He would have no more of it ever.

Like the straightaway man he was, he went to the meat of the matter.
"You squandered that hundred dollars we give you to git out of town on," he burst forth to Potts, breathing with an ominous difficulty.
"You just wait till you hear the worst of it," answered Potts, as he confidingly dusted the shoulder of Westley's coat.

"The worst of it is I had over twelve dollars of my own money that I'd saved up--you know how hard it is to save money in these little towns--well, that went, too, _every cent of it!_" It was admitted by witnesses competent to form an opinion that Westley's contorted face, his troubled breathing, his manner of stepping back, and the curious writhing of his stout arms, all encouraged a supposition that he might be contemplating immediate violence upon the person of Potts.