TOM BUYS A BUSINESS.
It was an interesting moment for our two friends when they landed in San
Francisco. The future Western metropolis was only a town of scattered
wooden and adobe houses, with irregular streets and a general lack of
uniformity in its buildings; but everybody seemed on the alert. The
number of drones was wonderfully small; even the constitutionally lazy
could not resist the golden incentives to labor. Money was looked upon
with very different eyes there and at the East. No one took the trouble
to dispute prices; and a man who landed with an article rare or
desirable could often obtain twenty times its value. Within ten minutes
of his arrival Tom witnessed a case of this kind.
Just as he was entering Montgomery street he noticed a man--evidently a
new-comer--with a fine bunch of pineapples in his hand. He had just
arrived in the steamer Columbus, then anchored out in the stream.
"I shouldn't mind having one of those pineapples," said Tom to Ferguson.
"Doubtless they are high-priced, being a rarity," said the Scotchman.
Just then a passer-by, attracted like Tom, and feeling a similar
longing, stepped up to the new-comer.
"Are those pineapples for sale?" he asked.
"Yes, if you'll pay enough," was the half-jocular reply.
"Name your price."
"Ten dollars."
"Here is your money;" and he put a gold piece into the hand of the
astounded passenger, which represented ten times the sum he had paid for
the fruit at San Blas.
"That's a pretty steep price," said Tom, "for six pineapples."
"It is very wasteful to spend such a sight of money to pamper the
appetite," said the canny Scot. "Truly, a fool and his money are soon
parted."
He was destined to be still more surprised. The purchaser within five
minutes transferred half his purchase to another for fifteen dollars.
"Gold seems to be plenty here," said Tom.
"I hope all provisions are not as high," said Ferguson, "or we shall
soon have a chance to spend all we have."
"Where shall we go first?" asked Tom.
"We had better go to a public house, and secure a lodging," said
Ferguson.
"I wish I knew some one here to direct me."
Scarcely had Tom uttered these words than he cried out in surprise,
"Why, there's John Miles!"
They were passing a little, unpainted, wooden building, of one and a
half stories, used as a grocery. A German name was on the sign; but
behind the rough counter stood the familiar form of John Miles.
Tom dashed into the store, followed by his more dignified companion.
"How are you, John?" he exclaimed.
"Why, if it isn't Tom," returned Miles, his face showing the joy he
felt. "And here's Mr. Ferguson, too."
Then there ensued a hearty shaking of hands, followed by the question,
"When did you get here?"
"About twenty minutes ago."
"And you came straight to me. That's good."
"So it is; but it's an accident. We had no idea where you were. So you
are a grocer, John. Is the place yours?"
"If it is, then I've changed my name," said Miles, pointing to the sign
bearing the name:--
JOHN SCHINKELWITZ.
"The first name's right, at any rate," said Tom, laughing. "I suppose
you are the clerk, then."
"Yes."
"How long have you been here?"
"Four weeks."
"Is it a good business?"
"Very good. My Dutch friend pays me five dollars a day, and I sleep
here."
"Among the groceries?"
"Yes; it saves me the expense of a bed outside, and that is a good deal.
I haven't saved quite enough to pay you yet, Tom, but I can soon."
"No hurry, John. I have been lucky since I saw you."
"I am glad to hear it, Tom. Did the claim prove more productive?"
"No; but I have been speculating. Guess how much money I have with me."
"A hundred and fifty dollars."
"More."
"Two hundred."
"More yet."
"Not three hundred, Tom?"
"I won't make you guess any more. I have seven hundred dollars. No
wonder you look surprised. I'll tell you how I made it;" and Tom
repeated the story of his purchase and its profitable sale.
"I am not so much surprised now," said Miles, "for in this country a man
will have what he takes a fancy to, no matter what it costs. I am glad
the good luck came to you and Mr. Ferguson. I shouldn't mind having that
amount of money myself."
"What would you do with it?"
"I would buy out my employer, and then I could make money fast."
"Does he want to sell?"
"Yes, he wants to go to the mines."
"Would he sell for such a small sum?"
"Yes; there isn't much of a stock, but we are constantly replenishing. I
tell you what, Tom, _you_ buy him out, and I'll manage the business."
"Are you in earnest, John?"
"Certainly I am."
"But I want to send some money home," objected Tom.
"How much?"
"A hundred dollars at least."
"I'll lend you the hundred, my lad," said Ferguson, "and fifty more, and
you can take your own money and buy the business. I don't favor acting
hastily, in general, but I have faith in our friend here, and I am led
to believe that the enterprise will be a profitable one."
"You'll be my partner, Tom, and I'll give you a third of the profits
without your doing a thing. If you work with me, you shall have as much
more as will be satisfactory."
"I would rather go back to the mines, John, and leave you to manage this
business by yourself. A quarter of the profits will satisfy me."
"No, it shall be a third. As you furnish the capital, that is only
fair."
"We may be counting our chickens too soon. Perhaps your Dutch friend,
whose name I can't pronounce, won't sell."
"Here he is to speak for himself."
A short German, with a ponderous frame, and a broad, good-humored face,
here entered the grocery, panting with the exertion of walking, and
looked inquiringly at Tom and the Scotchman.
"Herr Schinkelwitz, this is my friend, Tom Nelson," said Miles.
"Glad to see you, mine vriend," said the German, addressing Ferguson.
"No, that is Mr. Ferguson," said Miles, smiling. "I should have
introduced him first."
"Wie gehts, Herr Ferguson?" said the grocer. "You have one strange
name."
"Your name seems strange to me," said the Scotchman.
"Oh, no; Schinkelwitz is a very common name. Most peoples admire my
name."
Tom was considerably amused, but Herr Schinkelwitz did not observe the
smile which he could not repress.
"I have told my friends you would like to sell out the business," said
Miles.
"Oh, ja, it is a good business, but my health is not good. I think it
will be much better at the mines. You will do well to buy it yourself."
"I would if I had money enough."
"Ja, I must have the money, for I shall need it."
"My friend here has money, and may buy of you," said Miles, indicating
Tom.
"What, the boy?"
"Yes."
"Where did he get so much money?"
"At the mines."
"Oh, ja, that is a good place to get gold. Well, my young vriend, I will
sell cheap."
It will not be necessary to enter into a detailed account of the
negotiation. It is enough to say that for the sum of seven hundred
dollars Herr Schinkelwitz made over the business to Herr Tom, as he
called him, and our hero found himself penniless, but the owner of a
grocery. In half an hour it was all completed.
"Now, Tom, you are my boss," said Miles. "Shall I put your name
outside?"
"No, John, put your own. I am only a silent partner, you know."
"I congratulate you, Tom," said Ferguson. "Here are two hundred dollars,
for which you can give me your note."
"Two hundred?"
"Yes; you will need some yourself, besides what you send to your
father."
"Suppose I can't pay you back?"
"Then I will levy on the grocery, my lad," said Ferguson.