His generous heart had gone out to the lad who had been so tenderly and delicately reared, and who declined to lie or fight because he had promised his mother he would not do such things. Somehow Davis did not seem at all like a "sissy-boy" to Merriwell, who believed the plebe had a great deal of moral courage, if he were not physically brave. And Frank had come to believe that moral courage is a higher qualification than physical courage.
In this world there are two classes of heroes, and one class is likely to be grievously misunderstood. First comes the physical hero, the fellow who defiantly faces dangers that are sufficient to turn to ice the blood of another, and yet may succumb to some simple temptation that he knows will lead him into wrongdoing.
Then comes the moral hero, who resists the strongest temptations to do wrong, who fights and conquers in many a silent battle with his passions and desires, who bravely faces ridicule and scorn because he is confident that he is doing right, yet who quails, cowers, trembles, and flees in the face of physical danger.
Who will say which is the greater hero?
As soon as they were in the open air, Davis turned to Merriwell, his voice shaking, as he said:
"You must not fight with that fellow on my account."
"Why not?" asked Frank.
"Because you must not. It would not be right. He is big and strong——"
"But I am not afraid of him."
"That may be true, and still it is not right for you to fight in my place. That will not help me any. I can see that I will not be thought any better of if you fight in my place. You must not fight him!"