‘One!’
‘One word only, sir,’ said the Jew, tears running down his eyes.
‘Two!’
The Jew began to retreat, still praying for an interview.
‘Three!’
The Jew was now running.
‘Ten!’ he heard shouted at him, as he mounted his horse. He waited no more after that, he used spur and whip to urge his horse forward. He thought that he had gone but a short distance, when he heard a report like the report of a cannon behind him.
‘Oh, father Abraham, receive my soul,’ he prayed, ‘for I must be hit; a Boer never misses.’
He was surprised to feel no pain or wound.
‘Now, I must race, before he can load again,’ he muttered, applying spur and whip with fresh energy, as he lay forward on the neck of the horse.