you'll find that gouging eyes and chewing
ears isn't called fair--that shooting an enemy from ambush isn't called
courageous."

That was a doctrine, Boone felt, which savoured of sacrilege. If it were
categorically true then his own people were cowards--and to his ardent
hero worship the Gregories and the Wellvers were exemplars of high
bravery, yet this man was no ordinary individual, and he spoke from a
wisdom and experience based on a lifetime of soldiering. A seed of
dilemma had fallen into the fallow soil of the lad's questioning mind,
and as he stood there in a swirl of perplexity he heard the other voice
explaining with a sort of comforting reassurance, "As I said, notions of
right and wrong vary with locality and custom--but it's good for a man
to know more than one standard--one set of ideas. If you ever go out in
the world you'll need that knowledge."

After a period of reflection the boy demanded bluntly,

"Whar-at war ye a'soldierin'?"

For the first time, McCalloway's glance hardened and his tone sharpened.
He had not meant to throw open the discussion to a wide review of his
own past.

"If you and I are going to be good friends, you mustn't ask too many
questions," he said curtly. "It doesn't make a boy popular."

"I axes yore pardon; I didn't aim at no offence." The apology was
prompt, yet puzzled, and carried with it a note of injured dignity. "I
'lowed ye proffered ter tell me things--an' even ef ye told me all ye
knowed, I wouldn't go 'round blabbin' no-whars. I knows how ter hold my
own counsel."

This time it was the seasoned man of experience who flushed. He felt
that he had first invited and then rebuffed a natural inquiry, and so
he, in turn, spoke apologetically: "I shall tell you things that may be
useful--but I sha'n't answer every question."

After a long silence Boone spoke again, with the altered voice of
diffidence:

"I reckon I hain't got nothin' more ter say," he contributed. "I reckon
I'll be farin' on."

"You looked as if you were spilling over with things to say."

"I had hit in head ter say some sev'ral things," admitted the youthful
clansman, "but they was all in ther manner of axin' more questions, so I
reckon I'll be farin' on."

Victor McCalloway caught the deep hunger for information that showed out
of those independent young eyes, and he caught too the untutored
instinct of politeness, as genuine and unaffected as that of a desert
Sheik, which forced repression.