mother; he gave her two bullets--she did not die the first time."

"You yellow devil!--You black-skinned, black-hearted, lying son of
Satan!" roared the great Boer, his very beard curling with fury.
"Is that the way you talk to your masters? Out of the light,
_rooibaatje_"--this was to John--"and I will cut his tongue out of him.
I'll show him how we deal with a yellow liar;" and without further ado
he made a rush for the Hottentot.

As he came, John, whose blood was now thoroughly up, put out his open
hand, and, bending forward, pushed with all his strength on Muller's
advancing chest. John was a very powerfully made man, though not a large
one, and the push sent Muller staggering back.

"What do you mean by that, _rooibaatje?_" shouted Muller, his face livid
with fury. "Get out of my road or I will mark that pretty face of yours.
I owe you for some goods as it is, Englishman, and I always pay
my debts. Out of the path, curse you!" and he again rushed for the
Hottentot.

This time John, who was now almost as angry as his assailant, did not
wait for the man to reach him, but, springing forward, hooked his arm
around Muller's throat and, before he could close with him, with one
tremendous jerk managed not only to stop his wild career, but to
reverse the motion, and then, by interposing his foot with considerable
neatness, to land him--powerful as he was--on his back in a pool of
drainage that had collected from the stable in a hollow of the inn-yard.
Down he went with a splash, amid a shout of delight from the crowd,
who always like to see an aggressor laid low, his head bumping with
considerable force against the lintel of the door. For a moment he lay