I must be, as my hair stuck up on my head--I had taken off my hat out of
politeness--as it naturally would do on a pig's back.

This was too much for me, so, before either of the others could speak, I
answered in Dutch, for rage made me eloquent and bold:

"Yes, I am he; but, mynheer, if you are to be my master, I hope you will
not call the English pigs any more to me."

"Indeed, gamin" (that is, little scamp), "and pray, what will happen if
I am so bold as to repeat that truth?"

"I think, mynheer," I replied, growing white with rage at this new
insult, "the same that has happened to yonder buck," and I pointed to
the klipspringer behind Hans's saddle. "I mean that I shall shoot you."

"Peste! Au moins il a du courage, cet enfant" (At least the child is
plucky), exclaimed Monsieur Leblanc, astonished. From that moment, I
may add, he respected me, and never again insulted my country to my
face.

Then Marais broke out, speaking in Dutch that I might understand:

"It is you who should be called pig, Leblanc, not this boy, for, early
as it is, you have been drinking. Look! the brandy bottle is half
empty. Is that the example you set to the young? Speak so again and I
turn you out to starve on the veld. Allan Quatermain, although, as you
may have heard, I do not like the English, I beg your pardon. I hope
you will forgive the words this sot spoke, thinking that you did not
understand," and he took off his hat and bowed to me quite in a grand