Alas for the Quartermaster's sergeant, Johannes Schmoll, that routined and clock-work German! He found Augustus so much more German than he had ever been himself, that he went speechless for three days. Upon his lists, his red ink, and his ciphering, Augustus swooped like a bird of prey, and all his fond red-tape devices were shredded to the winds. Augustus set going new quadratic ones of his own, with an index and cross-references. It was then that Schmoll recovered his speech and walked alone, saying, “Mein Gott!” And often thereafter, wandering among the piled stores and apparel, he would fling both arms heavenward and repeat the exclamation. He had rated himself the unique human soul at Fort Brown able to count and arrange underclothing. Augustus rejected his laborious tally, and together they vigiled after hours, verifying socks and drawers. Next, Augustus found more horseshoes than his papers called for. “That man gif me der stomach pain efry day,” wailed Schmoll to Sergeant Casey. “I tell him, 'Lieutenant, dose horseshoes is expendable. We don't acgount for efry shoe like they was men's shoes, und oder dings dot is issued.' 'I prefer to cake them cop!' says Baby Bismarck. Und he smile mit his two beaver teeth.” “Baby Bismarck!” cried, joyfully, the rosy-faced Casey. “Yo-hanny, take a drink.” “Und so,” continued the outraged Schmoll, “he haf a Board of Soorvey on dree-pound horseshoes, und I haf der stomach pain.” “It was buckles the next month. The allowance exceeded the expenditure, Augustus's arithmetic came out wrong, and another board sat on buckles. “Yo-hanny, you're lookin' jaded under Colonel Safetypin.” said Casey. “Have something?” “Safetypin is my treat,” said Schmoll; “und very apt.” But Augustus found leisure to pervade the post with his modernity. He set himself military problems, and solved them; he wrote an essay on “The Contact Squadron”; he corrected Bainbridge for saying “throw back the left flank” instead of “refuse the left flank”; he had reading-room ideas, canteen' ideas, ideas for the Indians and the Agency, and recruit-drill ideas, which he presented to Sergeant Casey. Casey gave him, in exchange, the name of Napoleon Shave-Tail, and had his whiskey again paid for by the sympathetic Schmoll. “But bless his educated heart,” said Casey, “he don't learn me nothing that'll soil my innercence!”