Moreover, he could not move his eyes from the face of McGurk, and he knew at length that this was fear--the first real fear that he had ever known.
Shame made him hot, but fear made him cold again.

He knew that if he rose his knees would buckle under him; that if he drew out his revolver it would slip from his palsied fingers.

For the fear of death is a mighty fear, but it is nothing compared with the fear of man.
"I've asked you a question," said McGurk.

"What's your answer ?" There was a quiver in the black forest of Boone's beard, and if Pierre was cold before, he was sick at heart to see the big man cringe before McGurk.
He stammered: "Give me time." "Good," said McGurk.

"I'm afraid I know what your answer would be now, but if you take a couple of days you will think things over and come to a reasonable conclusion.