Just at the moment that Jeremy heard the voice, the giant shifted his hold a little, preparatory to making a fresh effort, and thus enabled his antagonist to fill his lungs with air. Ernest saw the broad white chest heave with relief, for by this time most of the upper clothing of the combatants had been wrenched away, and the darkening eye grow bright again, and he knew that Jeremy had heard him, and that he would conquer or die where he was.
And then—lo, and behold! just as the Boer, feeling that at last he was master of the situation, leisurely enough prepared himself for the final struggle, suddenly the Englishman advanced his right leg a few inches, and with the rapidity of lightning entirely shifted his grip. Then he gathered himself for the effort. What secret reserve of strength he drew on, who can say? But Ernest’s voice had excited it, and it came at his call: and he did a thing that few living men could have done, and the fame of which will go down in South Africa from generation to generation. For the Englishman’s lithe arms had found their hold; they tightened and gripped till they sunk in almost level with the flesh of his mighty foe. Then slowly Jeremy began to gather purchase, swaying backwards and forwards, and the Dutchman swayed with him.
“Make an end of him! make an end of him!” shouted the Boers. But behold! their champion’s eyes are starting from his blackened face; his head sinks lower and lower, his buttocks rise: he cannot stir.
To and fro sways Jeremy, and now the giant’s feet are lifted from the ground. And then one slow and mighty effort—oh, gallant Jeremy!—up, still up above the gasping of the wonder-stricken crowd, up to his shoulders, Heaven, over it!
Crash!
Van Zyl fell, to be carried away by six strong men a cripple for life.
CHAPTER IX.
ERNEST’S LOVE-LETTER
Cheer after cheer arose from the Englishmen around, and angry curses from the Dutchmen, as Jeremy turned to look at the senseless carcass of the giant. But, even as he turned, exhausted Nature gave out, and he fell fainting into Ernest’s arms.
Then did selected individuals of his fellow-countrymen come forward and bear him reverently to a restaurant called the “European,” where the proprietor—himself an old Eton fellow—met him, and washed and clothed and restored him, and vowed with tears in his eyes that he, Jeremy, should live at his expense for as long as he liked—ay, even if he chose to drink nothing meaner than champagne all day long; for thus it is that Englishmen greet one who ministers to that deepest rooted of all their feelings—national pride. And then, when at length he had been brought to, and refreshed with a tumblerful of dry Monopole, and wonderingly shaken Ernest by the hand, the enthusiasm of the crowd outside burst its bounds, and they poured into the restaurant, and, seizing Jeremy and the chair whereon he sat, they bore him in triumph round the market-square to the tune of “God save the Queen.” This was a proceeding that would have ended in provoking a riot had not an aide-de-camp from his Excellency the Special Commissioner, who sent a message begging that they would desist, succeeded in persuading them to return to the restaurant. And here they all dined, and forced Jeremy to drink a great deal more dry Monopole than was good for him, with the result that for the first and last time in his life he was persuaded into making an after-dinner speech. As far as it was reported it ran something like this:
“Dear friends” (cheers) “and Englishmen” (renewed cheers)—pause—” all making great fuss about nothing” (cheers, and shouts of “No, no!”). “Fight the Dutchman again to-morrow—very big, but soft as putty—anybody fight him” (frantic cheering). “Glad I wasn’t thrashed, as you all seem so pleased. Don’t know why you are pleased; ’spose you didn’t like the Dutchman. ’Fraid he hurt himself over my shoulder. Wonder what he did it for? Sit down now. Dear friends, dear old Ernest—been looking for you for long while;” and he turned his glassy eye on to Ernest, who cheered frantically, under the impression that Jeremy had just said something very much to the point. “Sit down now” (“No, no; go on”). “Can’t go on—” quite pumped—very thirsty, too” (“Give him some more champagne; open a fresh case”). “Wish Eva and Doll were here, don’t you?” (loud cheers). “Gemman” (cheers)—“no, not gemman—friends” (louder cheers)—“no, not gemman—friends—English brothers” (yet louder cheers), “I give you a toast. Eva and Doll: you all know ’em and love ’em, or if you don’t you would, you see, if you did, you know.” (Frantic outburst of cheering, during which Jeremy tries to resume his seat, but gracefully drops on to the floor, and begins singing “Auld lang syne” under the table; whereupon the whole company rise, and with the exception of Ernest and a jovial member of the Special Commissioner’s staff, who get upon the table to lead the chorus, join hands and sing that beautiful old song with all the solemnity of intoxication; after which they drink more champagne, and jointly and severally swear eternal friendship, especially Ernest and the member of his Excellency’s staff, who shake hands and bless each other, till the warmth of their emotions proves too much for them, and they weep in chorus there upon the table.)