He must have lived long among fighting men.

Perhaps that is why I think so kindly of him.

I love a fighting man if he fights honourably with either brain or brawn, even more than I despise a coward." "And yet this Tavish, you say, is pursued by a great fear.

Can he be so much of a fighting man, in the way you mean, and still live in terror of...." "_What ?_" That single word broke from the Missioner like the sharp crack of a whip.
"Of _what_ is he afraid ?" he repeated.

"Can you tell me?
Can you guess more than I have guessed?
Is one a coward because he fears whispers that tremble in the air and sees a face in the darkness of night that is neither living nor dead?
Is he ?" For a long time after he had gone to bed David lay wide awake in the darkness, his mind working until it seemed to him that it was prisoned in an iron chamber from which it was making futile efforts to escape.