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The Young Miner; or, Tom Nelson in California, a novel by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 21. Tom Buys A Business |
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_ CHAPTER XXI. 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. _ |
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