But the Greeks did us an unexpected good turn, though it looked like making more trouble for us at the time.  They began to complain of lack of exercise, and to grow actually sick for want of it.  Because of that, and jealousy, they raised a clamor about our freedom to go anywhere within township limits as against their strict confinement to the camp.  The commandant came down to the camp in person to hear what they had to say, and being in a good humor saw fit to yield a point.  Being a military German, though, he could not do it without attaching ignominious conditions.

There was a band attached to the local company of Sudanese—­an affair consisting of four native war-drums and two fifes.  They knew eight bars of one tune, and were proud of it, the fifers blowing with beef and pluck and the drummers thundering native fashion, which means that the only difference between their noise and a thunder-storm was in the tempo.

Day after day, twice a day, whether it rained or shone, it seemed to be the law that this “band” should patrol the whole township limits, playing its only tune, lifting the tops of men’s heads with its infernal drumming, and delighting nobody except the players and the township urchins, who marched in its wake rejoicing.

The Greeks and the Goanese were given leave to march with the band twice a day for the sake of exercise.  They refused indignantly.  The commandant flew into the rage that is the birthright of all German officials, but suddenly checked himself; he had a brilliant idea.

He withdrew the permission and changed it to an order that Coutlass and his two friends should march with the band twice daily for the sake of their health, on pain of imprisonment should they refuse.

“And I will prove to you,” he said, “that the good German rule is impartial.  All aliens awaiting trial and confined within the township limits shall march with the band if they are able!” As an afterthought he added magnanimously:  “Those in the jail, too, provided they have not been sentenced for serious crimes!”

So Coutlass, his Greek friend, the Goanese, Fred, Will, and Brown of Lumbwa marched about the town twice daily, at seven in the morning and three in the afternoon, a journey of five miles, Fred and Will making no objection because it gave them a chance to talk with Brown.  There were strict orders against talking, and four askaris armed with rifles marched behind to enforce the rule as well as keep guard over Brown.  But the drums were so thunderous and the shrill fifes so lusty that the askaris could not hear conversation pitched in low tones.

“Brown says,” said Fred, returning from the first march, “that he sleeps with only a sheet of corrugated iron between him and the ward where the chain-gang lies.  He can talk with Kazimoto when be happens to be at that end of the chain.  They’ve nothing but planks to lie on, any of them.  He says Kazimoto seems determined to kill the lieutenant who sentenced him, and as soon as he’s off the chain we’d better grab him and hurry him out of the country.”