ous man of affairs; he was exceedingly
calm and exasperatingly pleasant. To all outward appearances the
black-bearded man, grasping his dusty derby in his hand, might
have been a paying teller summoned to the president's office for an
increase of salary.

"Mr. Bergstein" Thayor said, "dating from to-morrow, the 8th of
September, I shall no longer need your services. You may therefore
consider what business relations have existed between us at an end."

A sullen flash from the black eyes accompanied Bergstein's first
words, his clammy hand gripping the rim of the derby lined with soiled
magenta satin.

"See here, Mr. Thayor," the voice began, half snarl, half whine.

"That will do, Mr. Bergstein," returned Thayor briskly. "I believe
the situation is sufficiently clear to need no further explanation on
either your part or mine. I bid you good morning."

Bergstein turned, with the look of a trapped bear, to Holcomb and the
old man; what he saw in their steady gaze made him hesitate. He put
on his hat and walked out of the door without again opening his thick
lips.

"You ain't goin' to let him go free, be ye?" exclaimed the trapper
in astonishment. Holcomb started to speak, glancing hurriedly at the
retreating criminal.

"What he has taken from me," interrupted Thayor, "I can replace; what
he has taken from himself he can never replace." He turned to a small
mahogany drawer and extracted a thin, fresh box of Havanas. "Let us
forget," he said, as he pried open the fragrant lid. "Be tolerant,
Billy--be tolerant even of scoundrels," and he struck a match for the
trapper.

The news of Bergstein's discharge demoralized the gang at the lower
shanty. They no sooner heard of it than Thayor became a target for
their unwarranted abuse. I say "the news" since Bergstein did not put
in an appearance to officially announce it. His mismanagement of the
commissary department was laid at Thayor's door. The men's grumbling
had been of some weeks' duration; their opinions wavering, swaying
and settling under Bergstein's hypnotic popularity as easily as a
weather-vane in April. Nowhere had they earned as good wages as at
Big Shanty. They, too, looked at Thayor's purchase as a gold mine.
Morrison had done a thriving business with the stout little tumblers
with bottoms half an inch thick. Bergstein frequently treated--when
they growled over the bad food he treated liberally, and they forgot.
He blamed it on Thayor and they agreed. The