You think it over.

You can overtake me at Hebron any time before tonight, and if you do, all right; but if second thoughts make you squeamish about crucifixion--they tell me that Ali Higg makes a specialty of that--I'll say you're wise to stay where you are.

In any case I start from Hebron tonight.
Suit yourself." Any man in his senses would get squeamish about crucifixion if he sat long enough and thought about it.

I hate to feel squeamish almost as much as I hate to sit and think, both being sure-fire ways of getting into trouble.

The only safe thing I know is to follow opportunity and leave the man behind to do the worrying.
More people die lingering, ghastly deaths in arm-chairs and in bed than anywhere.
So I spoke of squeamishness and second thoughts with all the scorn that a man can use who hasn't yet tasted the enmity of the desert and felt the fear of its loneliness; and Grim, who never wastes time arguing with folk who don't intend to be convinced, laughed and got up.
"You can't come along as a white man." "Produce the tar and feathers then," said I.
"Have you forgotten your Hindustani ?" "Some of it." "Think you can remember enough of it to deceive Arabs who never knew any at all ?" "Narayan Singh was flattering me about it the other day." "I know he was," said Grim.