Then he was sent for clean white pants and presently Schubert, only refusing to sit down, was quite himself again.
Sachse on the other hand refused the ministrations of the boy--was annoyed by the chaff of the other sergeants--refused to drink any of the sweet champagne he would now have to pay for--and went away in great dudgeon, murmuring about the madness that takes hold of men in Africa.
Meanwhile, while Schubert strutted and swaggered, making jokes more raw and beastly than his own flogged hide, the Jew came and poured more cool water on my hot bandages, touching them with deft fingers that looked like the hairy legs of a huge spider--his touch more gentle--more fugitive than any woman's.
"You should not tell zat dam feldwebel nozink!" he advised in nasal English.

"Nefer mind vat you tell heem he is all ze same not your frien.

He only obey hees officers.

Zey say to cut your troat--he cut it! Zey say to tell you a lot o' lies--he tell! He iss not a t'inker, but a doer: and hees faforite spectacle iss ze blood of innocence! Do not effer say I did not tell you! On ze ozzer hand, tell no one zat I did tell! Zese are dangerous people!" He resumed business with his account book, and I whispered to Fred and Will what advice he had given.

Seeing us with our heads together, Schubert crossed the room, beginning to get very drunk now that the shock of the flogging had had time to reinforce the alcohol.