I claim my rights as an Englishman----" "Here," interrupted Muller coldly, "Englishmen have no rights, except such as we choose to allow to them." "Shoot him!" cried a voice.
"Treat him as Buskes treated Van der Linden at Potchefstroom!" cried another.
"Yes, make him swallow the same pill that we gave to Dr.Barber," put in a third.
"Silas Croft, are you going to surrender ?" asked Muller in the same cold voice.
"_No!_" thundered the old man in his English pride.

"I surrender to no rebels in arms against the Queen.

I will shoot the first man who tries to lay a finger on me!" and he rose to his feet and lifted his rifle.
"Shall I shoot him, Baas ?--shall I shoot him ?" asked the one-eyed Hendrik, smacking his lips at the thought, and fiddling with the rusty lock of the old fowling-piece he carried.
Muller, by way of answer, struck him across the face with the back of his hand.

"Hans Coetzee," he said, "go and arrest that man." Poor Hans hesitated, as well he might.

Nature had not endowed him with any great amount of natural courage, and the sight of his old neighbour's rifle-barrel made him feel positively sick.