The tree was a few feet within the thorn fence. Some little distance to the left were the huts and sheds occupied by the negroes. In front of these was the broad, clear, level space that was the usual playground of the children and the promenade of the elders when work was done. Now, however, no children sported upon it. Some sixty sturdy negroes, ranging in age from sixteen to forty and upwards, were drawn up in ranks. At each end hovered an Arab overseer with his whip. And facing the recruits, some yards away from them, stood the German sergeant, a stiff, thick-set, bull-necked soldier, differing from hundreds of his kind whom Tom had seen in Germany only in his uniform, which, more suited to the African climate, was less complimentary to the sergeant’s tight figure. The sergeant bellowed an order, in words that seemed to be German acclimatised; the negroes hesitated, then, each interpreting the command in his own way, became a mob instead of a half company. The German stamped and roared; the overseers cracked their whips; and the scared recruits scrambled back somehow into their original formation. The sun beat fiercely down upon the scene, and the perspiring sergeant, a martyr to duty, drew a finger round the inside of his coat collar and tried again. Brandishing the light cane he carried, he hurled abuse at the negroes in his hybrid dialect, and having thus let off steam, repeated his sharp words of command. It was evident that he was attempting to teach the recruits how to form extended order from fours, and Tom almost sympathised with him as the men blundered in the simplest movements. They appeared to be unable to distinguish "right turn" from "left turn"; and even those who had once moved correctly seemed to be unable to remember for five minutes what they had learnt. "Mirambo no dis place, sah," whispered Mwesa over his shoulder. The words recalled the purpose of his visit. Mirambo was no doubt tied up in the hut which Reinecke used as a jail for refractory labourers. It was at the further end of the row of huts, in full view from every part of the parade ground. An askari was standing at ease outside it. Tom’s sense of the hopelessness of any attempt at rescue was deepened. Surely Mwesa himself must realise it. Sorry as he was, Tom felt that there was nothing to be done. A sudden commotion drew his attention once more to the drilling. The sergeant, incensed by the repeated blunders of one particularly stupid negro, had lifted his cane and dealt the man several vicious cuts across the face. Yelling with pain and rage, the victim had sprung upon the sergeant, hurled him to the ground, and seized him by the throat. Two of the overseers had just rushed to the spot, and were dragging the negro from the prostrate German. There was much chattering and excitement among the other recruits and the negroes who were looking on from the huts.