Quarrels and curses and blows he had been used to, and amidst them life could be lived.

If he did not consciously weave them into his theories, he unconsciously wrapped them up in his confidence, and was at peace.
But the last night had revealed something unknown before.

It was as if the darkness had been cloven, and through the cleft he saw into hell.

A thing had been done that could not be undone, and he thought it must be what people called murder.

And Sambo was such a good man! He was almost as good a man as Gibbie's father, and now he would not breathe any more! Was he gone where Gibbie's father was gone?
Was it the good men that stopped breathing and grew cold?
But it was those wicked men that had deaded Sambo! And with that his first vague perception of evil and wrong in the world began to dawn.
He lifted his head from gazing down on the dark river.