"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."