But look here, Captain, the _volk_ round here don't think like that.

It's the '_verdomde Britische Gouvernment_' here and the '_verdomde Britische Gouvernment_' there, and _bymakaars_ (meetings) here and _bymakaars_ there.

Silly folk, they all run one after the other like sheep.

But there it is, Captain, and I tell you there will be fighting before long, and then our people will shoot those poor _rooibaatjes_ of yours like buck, and take the land back.
Poor things! I could weep when I think of it." John smiled at this melancholy prognostication, and was about to explain what a poor show all the Boers in the Transvaal would make in front of a few British regiments, when he was astonished by a sudden change in his friend's manner.

Dropping his enormous paw on to his shoulder, Coetzee broke into a burst of somewhat forced merriment, the cause of which, though John did not guess it at the moment, was that he had just perceived Frank Muller, who was in Wakkerstroom with a waggon-load of corn to grind at the mill, standing within five yards, and apparently intensely interested in flipping at the flies with a cowrie made of the tail of a vilderbeeste, but in reality listening to Coetzee's talk with all his ears.
"Ha, ha! _nef_ (nephew)," said old Coetzee to the astonished John, "no wonder you like Mooifontein--there are other _mooi_ (pretty) things there beside the water.