you had lived all your life here you would have become accustomed to the doings of these young Boers. Ever since Majuba they have been brought up to think of us and our soldiers as cowards, and their absolute ignorance prevents them from seeing their mistake. I never take any notice of them.”
“Yes, I dare say that is the best plan,” Jack answered stubbornly; “but when I was at school a fellow had to take the consequences of what he said. If he called another chap names there was safe to be a row, and someone got a licking. That’s what happens in ordinary life, and it’s going to be the same here if that Piet Maartens doesn’t look out. Perhaps he could lick me if we had a fight, but I’d rather get knocked about and teach the fellow manners than sit down quietly and be insulted.”
Jack meant every word he said. Himself a kind-hearted and polite young fellow, to hurt the feelings of a comrade, or of a foreigner who happened to be anywhere within hearing of him, was the last thing he would have thought of doing. And to be forced to listen to sneers which were meant for any Englishman who might happen to hear them was so galling that it set his blood on fire. Just as his stepbrother’s attempts to control his actions had raised his ire, so did the behaviour of this young Boer irritate him and stir him to anger. Jack was not pugnacious, but the mere suspicion that he was in the presence of a bully ruffled him, and his meetings with Piet Maartens had so convinced him that this was what he was at heart, that Jack, in his own quiet dogged way, determined to discomfit him at the very first opportunity.
“He’s a bully,” he muttered to himself after Wilfred’s warning, “and I’m not going to put up with his sneers any longer.”
A few nights later the four lads were playing billiards in the restaurant, and the opposite table was occupied by Piet Maartens and a friend, while a number of Uitlanders and Boers were looking on. Jack had completely forgotten his determination, and, wrapped up in the game, had scarcely noticed the other players. Mathews was his partner, and, suddenly getting the balls into a favourable position, was adding rapidly to the score. The onlookers became interested, and all stood up to watch the game. Even Piet Maartens stepped over, and, rudely pushing Jack aside, craned his head and watched as Mathews played a stroke.
“Come here, Fritz,” he cried loudly. “Come and see this Uitlander. See, after all one of these Britishers is some good. Well, there is room for improvement, but whatever happens they will never make brave men.”
Instantly the whole of the occupants of the room became silent, while Mathews turned round and faced the Boer.
“You look after your own game, Maartens,” he said nervously.
“Thank you, little man, but perhaps I prefer to look on at you,” Piet Maartens answered, while his companion gave vent to a sniggering laugh which set Jack’s pulses thumping.
“Then you’ll have to wait a little,” cried Mathews angrily. “I’m going to stay here till you are out of the way.”
“Don’t get angry, my friend,” the Boer answered tauntingly. “Here, this will cool you.” And snatching up a tumbler of iced water which stood on a table near at hand, he deliberately poured it over Mathews, drenching him to the skin.
It was a foolish act and a cowardly one, for Mathews was a head and shoulders shorter than his opponent, and quite incapable of retaliating; and no doubt Piet Maartens had taken this into consideration. But for months and months he had indulged in sneering taunts, and no Englishman had had the temerity to make him answer for them. Not that they always lacked the courage, but it was not policy to fight with a Boer in the Transvaal, and thereby have one’s business prospects ruined. Piet Maartens had traded on this, and also on his height and strength.
Having poured the contents of the tumbler over poor Mathews, he and his companions burst into loud laughter as their victim held his head down and attempted to shake the water off. But a second later they changed their tune.
The sight of such an act of bullying had maddened Jack, and noticing a large glass jug of iced water on another table, he coolly walked over to it, lifted it by the handle, and having reached Piet Maartens’ side, brought it down with a bang on the top of his head, shivering the glass, and drenching him thoroughly. It was tit for tat, and at once a roar of laughter and applause burst from the Englishmen present.
Jack took no notice of it, but stood quietly waiting till Piet had recovered himself. A second later both Boers rushed at him, and struck at him with their cues. One he dodged, and at the same time lunged forward, and struck out so strongly with his fist that Piet’s companion went rolling on the floor. But the other cue fell heavily upon his shoulder, and caused him considerable pain. A moment later he had snatched it out of Piet’s hand, and, breaking it across his knee, clutched the bully by his collar, and belaboured him till he howled for mercy. Then Jack let go, and, standing in front of him, waited to see what would happen, while the Englishmen approached nearer and looked on silently.
“How dare you?” the Boer panted, scowling angrily at Jack. “If it were not that you are only a boy I would break you into pieces. Who asked you to interfere?”
Piet Maartens clenched his fist and, approaching close to Jack, shook it in his face, while his comrade picked himself up from the floor, and looked as if on the point of rushing in again. But Wilfred at once stood by his friend’s side, and the Boer retired to the other side of the room. Meanwhile Jack never moved a step, but, leaning against the table, laughed scornfully.
“Who asked you to ill-treat my friend?” he cried. “He had not injured you, and you deliberately poured a glass of water on his head. For that I gave you a ducking, and when you struck me with your cue I thrashed you with it. Now you threaten to knock me to pieces. Don’t let the fact of my age prevent you. I am quite ready.”
Jack faced Piet Maartens coolly, and proceeded to divest himself of his coat.
“Now,” he said sternly, stepping forward till he was within a foot of Piet, “put up your fists, and I will endeavour to teach you to keep your tongue to yourself, and to be careful in future when you speak of my countrymen.”
Jack squared his shoulders, and put himself into a position of defence, while the onlookers cheered him loudly.
But Piet Maartens had had enough. His eyes dropped before Jack’s determined gaze, and, muttering a fierce oath, he turned on his heel and left the saloon, followed by his companion.
Jack at once slipped on his coat, and, nodding to all, went out with Wilfred and returned at once to the house.
“By Jove, Jack,” exclaimed his friend enthusiastically, “you have done what no one else has been able to accomplish, and I admire your pluck, old chap! But take care of yourself. You have made an enemy of an unscrupulous brute, who will never forget that you have defied him, and made a fool of him. Well, I’m glad you did it; and there is one thing, we shall see less of him at the store. He was always popping in to speak to Father.”
That evening Jack recounted the quarrel to Mr Hunter.
“Ah! I am sorry to hear it, Jack, for you have really made an enemy of a dangerous fellow, as Wilfred says,” remarked the latter. “But I am glad in other respects, for it will keep him away. It would not be policy for me to send him about his business, but as it is he is not likely to trouble me again. For a long time he has spied upon me here, but with what object I have never been able to discover, though I suspect he is an agent of Kruger’s and is suspicious that I have arms concealed on the premises. He really is one of the most uppish of the many bumptious Boers to be met with here and in Pretoria, and of course in other towns in the Transvaal. Everywhere, all over the Transvaal, Englishmen are belittled and sneered at, simply because, years ago, in a fit of generosity we stayed our hands, and would not give them the
