ove 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 nam