, not, at any rate, at
that time.

CHAPTER FIVE.

SIGNS.

"_Jij verdomde Engelschman! Stil maar! Ik saal nit nou jou kop
afslaan_!" [Note 1.]

The speaker is a big Dutchman, the scene the stoep of a roadside hotel
in the Karroo, the spoken-to Frank Wenlock. We regret, however, to be
obliged to record that our friend has taken on board a glass or two more
than he can stow with absolute regard either to equilibrium or strict
decorum. A Cape cart and a buggy, the harness hung loosely to the
splashboard, stand out-spanned by the broad dusty road, and three or
four horses with their saddles on are grouped beneath a stumpy,
spreading mimosa, as rooted to the spot by the mere fact of two or three
inches of their bridles trailing on the ground as though tied fast to
anything solid and tangible.

For reply to the threat, Frank Wenlock utters a defiant laugh, then once
more lifts up his voice in song:

"Ta-ra-ra-ra Boom-de-ay!
Oom Paul op een vark gerij,
Af hij val en zier gekrij,
Toen klim op en veg gerij."

With a growl and a curse the big Boer comes at him. He is nearly a head
the taller and far the heavier and more powerful man; but Frank Wenlock
knows how to use his hands a bit, and, "sprung" as he is, he parries the
sledge-hammer blow aimed at him by his large assailant, and stands
ready. The latter begins to parley:

"What do you insult our President for, then?" he growls.

"Can't I sing a song if I want?" returns Frank. "Besides, Oom Paul
isn't your President."

"Ah, but he soon will be. And won't he make the _rooineks_ run?"

"Well, here's a _rooinek_ you can't make run, Hermanus Delport, elephant
as you are. Come along and have a try, will you? What? You won't?
You're a bally coward then--and you're twice my size.

"Ta-ra-ra-ra Boom-de-ay,
Oom Paul op een vark gerij--"

he begins again in a tone that is insulting and defiant to the last
degree.

There are other Dutchmen on the stoep. These, who have laughed
hitherto, expecting to see their huge compatriot simply double up the
smaller but foolhardy Englishman, now spring to their feet with incensed
shouts.

"Go at him, Hermanus. Knock him down and lay your _sjambok_ about him.
Cut him into _riempjes_. We'll give him Oom Paul!" are some of the
cries wherewith they nerve their champion on to war.

There is no backing out of it now. Delport hurls himself upon Frank,
who stands there, squaring up, and still singing the