Scoutbush, your life has been child's play as yet.

You are going now to see life in earnest,--the sort of life which average people have been living, in every age and country, since Adam's fall; a life of sorrow and danger, tears and blood, mistake, confusion, and perplexity; and you will find it a very new sensation; and, at first, a very ugly one.

All the more reason for doing what good deeds you can before you go; for you may have no time left to do any on the other side of the sea." Scoutbush was silent awhile.
"Well; I'm afraid of nothing, I hope: only I wish one could meet this cholera face to face, as one will those Russians, with a good sword in one's hand, and a good horse between one's knees; and have a chance of giving him what he brings, instead of being kicked off by the cowardly Rockite, no one knows how; and not even from behind a turf dyke, but out of the very clouds." "So we all say, in every battle, Scoutbush.

Who ever sees the man who sent the bullet through him?
And yet we fight on.

Do you not think the greatest terror, the only real terror, in any battle, is the chance shot?
which come from no one knows where, and hit no man can guess whom?
If you go to the Crimea, as you will, you will feel what I felt at the Cape, and Cabul, and the Punjab, twenty times,--the fear of dying like a dog, one knew not how." "And yet I'll fight, Campbell!" "Of course you will, and take your chance.