He is an angry man--I know him of old--and an angry man with a gun, you know, dear cousin----" "Are you going ?" said his terrible master once more.
"Oh, yes! yes, certainly, yes.

Dear Uncle Silas, pray put down that gun, it is so dangerous.

Don't stand there looking like a wild ox, but come up to the yoke.

You are old, Uncle Silas, and I don't want to have to hurt you.

Come now, come, come," and he held out his hand towards him as though he were a shy horse that he was endeavouring to beguile.
"Hans Coetzee, traitor and liar that you are," said the old man, "if you draw a single step nearer, by God! I will put a bullet through you." "Go on, Hans, chuck a reim over his head; get him by the tail; knock him down with a yokeskei; turn the old bull on his back!" shouted the crowd of scoffers from the window, taking very good care, however, to clear off to the right and left in order to leave room for the expected bullet.
Hans positively burst into tears, and Muller, who was the only one who held his ground, caught him by the arm, and putting out all his strength, swung him towards Silas Croft.
For reasons of his own, he was anxious that the latter should shoot one of them, and he chose Hans Coetzee, whom he disliked and despised, for the sacrifice.
Up went the rifle, and at that moment Bessie, who had been standing bewildered, made a dash at it, knowing that bloodshed could only make matters worse.