“Ah, yes,” he said, sadly. “It was very glorious. What a pity that the beautiful land over which such a sun shines should be spoiled by bloodshed!”
“Do you think the Indians will come to-night?” I said, a little huskily.
He was silent for a few moments, and stood gazing in my face.
“Afraid?” he said, with a smile.
“Yes, father,” I said, frankly. “It makes me feel afraid. But when all the fighting and excitement is going on I don’t feel to mind it half so much.”
“That is human nature, my boy,” he said, smiling. “No doubt there are men who never know what fear is, but they must be very rare. I have known very few.”
“But you, father?” I said, excitedly. “You never knew what it was to be afraid?”
He laughed as he pressed my shoulder with his hand.
“Always, my boy, when I am going to encounter danger, and from the General downward, I think I may say we all feel fear. It is no disgrace to a brave man to shrink from that which he has to encounter. Why, my experience teaches me that those men who think and feel in this way do the bravest deeds.”
“Then I needn’t be ashamed of feeling a little alarm—I mean being a bit of a coward now, father?”