But we sat down and waited until the two Nubian giants had finished flogging Kazimoto, and when they dragged him to his feet Will and Fred walked over to give him a few words of comfort.

That act of ordinary kindness threw the lieutenant into another fury.
"Bring the Nyamwezi here!" he ordered, and the askaris hustled him up in front of the table.
"What do you do?
Have you no manners?
Return proper thanks for the lesson you have received!" Kazimoto stood silent.
"For God's sake--" Will began.
"Say 'Thank you' to him, Kazimoto!" Fred whispered.
There is no native word for "Thank you"-- only a bastard thing introduced by tyrants from Europe who never understood the African contention that the giver rewards himself if his gift is worth anything at all.
"Asente," said Kazimoto meekly.
"Why don't you salute?
Don't you know where you are ?" "For the love of God salute him!" Will almost shouted.
Kazimoto obeyed.
"Take him and put him on the chain-gang!" ordered the lieutenant.

"You Europeans leave the court!" "I'm no European!" Will shouted back.

"Thank the Lord I was born in a country you'll never set foot in!" "Take them away before I have to make an example of them!" the lieutenant ordered.
Obediently the askaris gathered about us and hustled us out into the open, poking at my bandaged wound to get swifter action, and going as far as to threaten us with their hippo-hide whips.

I trod on the naked toe of one of them with sufficient suddenness and weight to deprive him of the use of it for all time, and luckily for me he did not see who did it.