em made some sneering
remark that caused the other to look at them and laugh insultingly.

John flushed, but took no notice. Indeed he thought it safest not, for,
to tell the truth, he did not much like the appearance of these two
worthies. One of them was a big, smooth, pasty-faced man, with a
peculiarly villainous expression of countenance and a prominent tooth
that projected in ghastly isolation over his lower lip. The other was
a small man, with a sardonic smile, a profusion of black beard and
whiskers on his face, and long hair hanging on to his shoulders. Indeed,
when he smiled more vigorously than usual, his eyebrows came down and
his whiskers advanced, and his moustache went up till there was scarcely
any face left, and he looked more like a great bearded monkey than
a human being. This man was a Boer of the wildest type from the far
borders of Zoutpansberg, and did not understand a word of English.
Jess nicknamed him the Vilderbeeste, from his likeness to that
ferocious-looking and hairy animal. His companion, on the other hand,
understood English perfectly, for he had passed many years of his life
in Natal, having left that colony on account of some little indiscretion
about thrashing Kafirs which had brought him into collision with the
penal laws. Jess named him the Unicorn, on account of his one gleaming
tusk.

The Unicorn was an unusually pious person, and on arriving at the table,
to John's astonishment, gently but firmly he grasped the knife with
which he was about to cut the meat.

"What's the matter?" said John.

The Boer shook his head sadly. "No wonder, you English are an accursed
race, and have been given over into our hands as the great king Agag
was given into the hands of the Israelites, so that we have hewed you to
pieces. You sit down to meat and give no thanks to the dear Lord," and
he threw back his head and sang out a portentously long Dutch grace
through his nose. Not content with this, he set to work to translate
it to English, which took a good time; nor was the rendering a very
finished one in the result.

The Vilderbeeste grinned sardonically and put in a pious "Amen," and
then at last they were allowed to proceed with their dinner, which,
on the whole, was not a pleasant meal. But they could not expect much
pleasure under the circumstances, so they ate their food and made the
best of a bad business. After all, it might have been worse: they might
have had no dinner to eat.