Ernest obeyed, overwhelmed. Mr. Alston shook his head. He recognised that Jeremy had a poor chance, but he did not say so to Ernest.
Meanwhile Jeremy came up and faced the Dutchman. Encouraged by his late success, presently his adversary struck a tremendous blow at him. Jeremy dodged, and next instant succeeded in landing such a fearful right and left full on the giant’s face that the latter went reeling backwards.
A yell of frantic excitement arose from the English portion of the crowd. This was indeed a David.
“This was indeed a David.”
The Dutchman soon recovered, however, and, rendered more cautious, in his turn, kept out of Jeremy’s reach, trying to strike him down from a distance. For a round or two no important blow was struck, till at last a brilliant idea took possession of the young fellow who had charge of Jeremy’s coat.
“Hit him about the body,” he whispered; “he’s soft.”
Jeremy took the advice, and next round succeeded in getting in two or three blows straight from the shoulder, every one of which bruised the Boer’s huge body sadly, and made him rather short of wind.
Next round he repeated the same tactics, receiving himself a stroke on the shoulder from Van Zyl’s right hand that for a moment rendered his left arm helpless. Before another second was over, however, Jeremy had his revenge, and the blood was pouring from his adversary’s lips.