If it hadn't been for that little monkey," he added, jerking his thumb in the direction of Jantje, who was holding the horses' heads, "it would never have happened, and it is not nice that two Christians should quarrel about such as he." Muller jerked out this long speech in a succession of sentences, something as a schoolboy repeats a hardly learnt lesson, fidgeting his feet and letting his restless eyes travel about the ground as he spoke.
It was evident to John, who stood quite still and listened to it in icy silence, that his address was by no means extemporary; clearly it had been composed for the occasion.
"I do not wish to quarrel with anybody, _Meinheer_ Muller," he answered at length.

"I never do quarrel unless it is forced on me, and then," he added grimly, "I do my best to make it unpleasant for my enemy.

The other day you attacked first my servant and then myself.

I am glad that you now see that this was an improper thing to do, and, so far as I am concerned, there is an end of the matter," and he turned to enter the house.
Muller accompanied him as far as where Jantje was standing at the horses' heads.

Here he stopped, and, putting his hand in his pocket, took out a two-shilling piece and threw it to the Hottentot, calling to him to catch it.
Jantje was holding the horses with one hand.