“Goin’ to be a hangin,” he announced.  “I been askin’ natives about it.  Black man stole the condemned man’s daughter an’ refused to pay cows for her accordin’ to custom or anythin’—­said he could do what the white men did an’ help himself.  Father of the girl took a spear and settled the thief’s hash with it—­ran him through—­did a clean job.  Serve him right—­eh—­what?  Germans went an’ nabbed him, though—­tried him in open court—­goin’ to hang him this mornin’ for murder!  How does it strike you?”

We were not exactly in mood to talk to Brown—­in fact, we wished him anywhere but with us, but he thought self perfectly welcome, and rambled on: 

“Up in British East we don’t hang black men for murder unless it’s what they call an aggravated case—­murder an’ robbery—­murder an’ arson—­murder an’ rape.  Hang a white man for murderin’ a black sure as you’re sitting here, an’ shoot a black man for murderin’ a white; but the blacks don’t understand, so when they kill one another in such a case this, why we give ’em a short jail sentence an’ a good lo lecture, an’ let ’em go again.  These folks have it t’other way round.  They never hang a German, whether he’s guilty or not, but hang a poor black man, what doesn’t understand, for half o’ nothin’!”

A great crowd began gathering about the tree, and was presently driven by askaris with whips into a mass on the far side of the tree from us.  Whether purposely or not, they left a clear view from the hospital steps of all that should happen.  Evidently warning had been sent out broadcast, for the inhabitants of village after village came trooping into town to watch, each lot led by its sultani in filthy rags and the foolish imitation crown his conquerors had supplied him at several times its proper price.  The square was a dense sea of people before nine o’clock, and the askaris made the front few hundreds lie, and the next rows squat, in order that the men and women behind might see.

Then at last out came the victim with his hands tied behind him and a bright red blanket on his loins.  He was a proud-looking fellow.  He halted a moment between his guard of German sergeants and eyed the crowd, and us, and the tree, and the noose.  Then he looked down on the ground and appeared to take no further interest.

The sergeants took him by the arms and led him along to the table between them.  Out came the commandant then, in snow-white uniform, with his saber polished until it shone—­all spruced up for the occasion, and followed by a guard of honor consisting of lieutenant, two sergeants, and six black askaris.

There was a chair by the table.  At sight of the commandant the sergeants made their victim use that as a step by which to mount the table and soap-box, and there he stood eying his oppressors as calmly as if he were witnessing a play.  A murmur arose among the crowd.  A number of natives called to him by name, but he took no notice after that one first steady gaze.