The chain-gang kept the township clean--very clean indeed, as far as outward appearance went.
The boma, or fort, was down by the water-front and its high eastern wall, pierced by only one gate, formed one boundary of the drill-ground that was also township square.

Facing the wall on the eastern side of the square was a row of Indian and Arab stores.

At the north end was the market building--an enormous structure of round stucco pillars supporting a great grass roof; and facing that at the southern end were the court-house, the hospital, and a store owned by the Deutch Oest Africa Gesellschaft, known far and wide by its initials--a concern that owned the practical monopoly of wholesale import and export trade, and did a retail business, too.
We went first to the hospital.

Fred and Will lifted me out of the hammock, for my wound had grown much worse during the last few days, and the door being shut they set me down on the step.

Then we sent Kazimoto into the fort with a note to the senior officer informing him that a European waited at the hospital in need of prompt medical treatment.
The sentry admitted Kazimoto readily enough, but he did not come out again for half-an-hour, and then looked glum.
"Habanah!" he said simply, using the all-embracing native negative.
"Isn't any one in there ?" we demanded all together.
"Surely." "How many ?" "Very many." "Officers ?" He nodded.
"Is a doctor there ?" He told us he had asked for the doctor.