I am not afraid of British jail! It will not be for long! The English do not punish as the Germans do! You dare not assault me! You dare not torture me! You must hand me over to the bwana collector to be tried in court of law.

Nothing else is permissible! I shall receive short sentence, that is all, with reprieve after two-thirds time on account of good conduct!" "Make him prisoner in the sleeping sickness village you told us about!" advised Coutlass, lolling at ease on his elbow to watch the man's increasing fear.
"Oh, no, no! Oh, gentlemen! That is not how white Englishmen behave! You must either let me go, or--" He made another terrific dive for liberty, biting and kicking at his captors, and finally lying on his back to scream as if the hot irons Coutlass had recommended were being applied in earnest.
"What shall we do with the beast ?" asked Fred.

The hut was so full of his infernal screaming that we could talk without his hearing us.
"Tie him up," I said.

"If we let him go he'll run straight to Schillingschen." "Leave him here with Coutlass and me!" urged Brown.

(He and Coutlass had grown almost friendly since getting drunk together on the native beer.) "I recommend," said Will, "that we take the law in our own hands--" The Baganda ceased screaming and listened.