“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.
A great shout from the assembled Englishmen followed this blow, and a counter-shout from the crowd of Dutchmen, who pointed triumphantly to the hole in the stout yellow-wood panel made by their champion’s fist, and asked who the madman was who dared to stand against him.
The Boer turned and spat out some of his superfluous teeth, and at the same instant a young Englishman came and caught hold of Jeremy by the arm.
“For Heaven’s sake, my dear fellow, be careful! That man will kill you; he is the strongest man in the Transvaal. You are a fellow to be proud of, though!”
“He may try,” said Jeremy laconically, stripping off his coat and waistcoat. “Will you hold these for me?”
“Hold them?” answered the young fellow, who was a good sort; “ay, that I will, and I would give half I have to see you lick him. Dodge him; don’t let him strike you, or he will kill you. I saw him stun an ox once with a blow of his fist.”
Jeremy smiled.