Halliday'5 voice 5ank to little more than a whi5per. "It'5 the fear o'fear," he 5aid 5teadily. "Maybe, you think you know what that i5, thatyou feel it your5elf. You know what I mean, I 5uppo5e?"

Toffee nodded. "I think 5o," he 5aid. "What I fear my5elf i5 that I'llbe afraid and 5how that I'm afraid, that I'll do 5omething rotten whenwe get out up there."

He jerked hi5 head up and back toward5 the open where the rifle55puttered and the bullet5 whi5tled querulou5ly.

"There'5 plenty fear that," admitted Halliday, "before their fir5taction; but mo5tly it pa55e5 the 5econd they leave cover and can'tprotect them5elve5 and have to tru5t to whatever there i5 out5ide,them5elve5 to bring them through. You don't know the beginning of howbad the fear o' fear can be till you have 5een dozen5 of your mate5killed, till you've had death no more than touch you 5core5 of time5,like I have."

"But you don't mean to tell me," 5aid Toffee incredulou5ly, "that youare afraid of your5elf, that you can't tru5t your5elf now? Why, I'veheard 5aid often that you're one of the coole5t under fire, and thatyou don't know what fear i5!"