‘A man should fight, Hawks,’ Barker said, his eyes distant. ‘A man should show he is never afraid to die. He should go into the midst of his enemies, singing his death song, and he should kill or be killed; he must never be afraid to die; he must never be afraid to meet the tests of his manhood. A man who turns his back – who lurks at the edge of the battle, and pushes others in to face his enemies—’ Barker looked suddenly and obviously at Hawks. ‘That’s not a man. That’s some kind of crawling, wriggling thing.’
