A roar of laughter from the Dutch people round greeted this sally of wit, and the giant, taking the sjambock with a good-humoured smile—for, like most giants, he was easy-tempered by nature—lifted it, whirled his great arm, thick as the leg of an average man, round his head, and brought the whip down on the back of the miserable Hottentot. The poor wretch yelled with pain, and no wonder, for the greasy old shirt he wore was divided clean in two, together with the skin beneath it, and the blood was pouring from the gash. “Allamachter! dat is een lecker slaat” (Almighty! that was a nice one), said the old woman; at which the crowd laughed again. But there was one man who did not laugh, and that man was Jeremy. On the contrary, his clear eyes flashed and his brown cheek burned with indignation. Nor did he stop at that. Stepping forward, he placed himself between the giant and the howling Hottentot, and said to the former, in the most nervous English: “You are a damned coward!” The Boer stared at him and smiled, and then, turning, asked what the “English fellow” was saying. Somebody translated Jeremy’s remark, whereupon the Boer, who was not a bad-natured fellow, smiled again, and remarked that Jeremy must be madder than the majority of “accursed Englishmen.” Then he turned to continue thrashing the Hottentot, but, lo! the mad Englishman was still there. This put the Dutchman out. “Footsack, carl; ik is Van Zyl!” (Get out, fellow; I am Van Zyl!) This was interpreted to Jeremy by the by-standers. “All right; and tell him that I am Jones, a name he may have heard before,” was the reply. “What does this brain-sick fellow want?” shouted the giant. Jeremy explained that he wanted him to stop his brutality. “And what will the little man do if I refuse?” “I shall try to make you,” was the answer. This remark was received with a shout of laughter from the crowd which had now collected, in which the giant joined very heartily when it was interpreted to him. Giving Jeremy a shove to one side, he again lifted the great sjambock, with the purpose of bringing it down on the Hottentot. Another second, and Jeremy had snatched the whip from his hand, and sent it flying fifty yards away. Then, realising that his antagonist was really in earnest, the great Dutchman solemnly set himself to crush him. Doubling a fist which was the size of a Welsh leg of mutton, he struck with all his strength straight at the Englishman’s head. Had the blow caught Jeremy, it would in all probability have killed him; but he was a practised boxer, and, without moving his body, he swung his head to one side. The Boer’s fist passed him harmlessly, and, striking the panel of the waggon, went clean through it. Next instant several of the giant’s double row of teeth were rolling loose in his mouth. Jeremy had returned the stroke by a right-hander, into which he put all his power, and which would have knocked any other man backwards.