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Updated: June 15, 2025
"By the way, before I forget it" here Thayor drew from his pocket a package of letters "how about this Mr. Steinberg, the dealer who sold us the horses?" he inquired. "Who, Bergstein?" "Yes, this Mr. Bergstein, as you call him.
"He's all hustle, and smarter than a steel trap that's why I put him in charge of the gang in the lower shanty besides, I saw the boys wanted him." "I must see Mr. Bergstein in the morning," was Thayor's reply. "He left day before yesterday," said Holcomb. "He told me an uncle of his had died in Montreal; he'll be back, he said, in three or four days." "Ah, indeed," said Thayor with a nod.
"Of course you haven't," Thayor smiled in return, "and yet you censure me for terminating my business relations with Bergstein a man you men unanimously chose." There was an awkward pause and a sheepish look on the faces of the men as they craned their corded, bronzed necks over the shoulders of those who held the accounts. "Wall, I swan!" drawled one. "Reg'lar damned skin!" muttered another.
With these facts before him Thayor came to an instant conclusion. The result was that a little before noon on this same day the day of Sperry's departure the owner of Big Shanty sent for Bergstein. Both the trapper and Holcomb were present.
They, like Holcomb, were fully aware of the fact that Bergstein was playing a dangerous game. They were waiting for the denouement. At times when the men gave vent to their grievances Hite Holt and Freme Skinner did their level best to smooth things over; they did not want to trouble Thayor. The same afternoon of Bergstein's discharge the gang at the lower shanty struck.
"Oh nothing.... Only that it would have been very interesting to read that account. However, Sir Somebody Something must be wanting his Quarterly Review.... Never mind!" Gwen said: "What nonsense! He's bought another copy by this time. He can afford it, if he's married a Miss Bergstein. Bring it round to-morrow, Percy, to keep Aunt Constance quiet.
Morrison looked at it carefully, tucked it in a fly-specked screen behind the bar, and with a satisfied air said: "Let's see you hain't had no supper, hev ye? Supper's most ready I'll go and tell the old woman you're here." "No I ain't stoppin' for supper," replied Bergstein, paying for his glass. "I'm going up to Thayor's place now; this feller Holcomb's expectin' me."
"He's started on consid'ble of a trip now," replied the hide-out. "I see what was left of him." "Dead!" exclaimed Thayor. "Burned blacker 'n a singed hog. They ain't much left of him, and what they is ain't pleasant to look at. He ain't got but one arm left and that's clutchin' a holt of a empty ker'sene can." Thayor gave a short gasp. "And it was that cheat, Bergstein!" he cried in amazement.
As to that red-nosed Jew, Bergstein, he'll quit talkin' 'bout me and everythin' else if I kin ever draw a bead on him.
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.
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