"What could ever cause a man to get into such a condition?" asked a fellow, who, three weeks before, had arrived quite as dishevelled, but had already forgotten the fact, which is just as well. "The cause?" asked the German. "Yes." "Beer." "Beer! You are the first man I ever saw who got to such a finish on beer," returned the questioner. "I drink nothing else--never," the old German affirmed. "I am thinking Mr. Floyd will try to clean you up in a hurry--or not at all--if you tell him that beer put you down and out." "I hope so," said the old man; "I feel pretty bad." "Some mighty arguments have been put out that it is the distilled liquors that do all the mischief; that light wine and malt liquors are no more harmful than tea. And here you are in our camp to disprove this contention. If you say you have been on a beer debauch, you may not be believed." "Maybe someone put a little apple-jack into my glass when I wasn't looking," replied the German, quickly, as he went into the boys' kitchen to get a little coffee. So it came about that Fritz became a Colony member, and his good nature made him a general favorite almost immediately. His strength returned to him rapidly. The final cure was effected when, among the books that came in, one of the men found a German volume. He took it to Fritz with some misgiving, as it was a work on astronomy, and Fritz did not resemble a Heidelberg professor; but when our friend glanced at the book and saw the German text, and then, on closer scrutiny, observed that it was a work on astronomy, he became excitedly enthusiastic. "Good! Very good! I am happy to get it." It was a week later, an hour or two after midnight, I saw Fritz in the moonlight, walking around outside the house. I went out to question him, as his actions seemed strange to me. "What is the trouble, Fritz?" I asked him. "It is nothing." "But I would rather not have the men out so late," I said. "I cannot find it," he replied. "Find what, Fritz? What have you lost?" "I cannot find the North Star," he said, sadly. "Don't you know where to look for it?" "Oh, yes; but it is always cloudy." At that moment the clouds began to move--not because Fritz wished it, but his patience had outstayed the clouds. "There it is. That's it," he exclaimed, as he ran into the stable, leaving me standing alone star-gazing to no purpose. But Fritz rejoined me as abruptly as he had left me. He had brought out with him a square board with an iron rod running through it. "What have you there?" I questioned him. "It is my sun-dial; it is my own invention. I have never seen a sun-dial, but I am sure that mine will be as correct as any of them." Then he fastened the dial firmly on a stump, pointing the wire straight at the North Star. "In the morning I can see if I am right. Good night, Mr. Floyd." "Good night, Fritz."