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.