Read the excerpt from Iqbal. Iqbal was standing next to his loom. Behind him was his carpet, that marvelous carpet with its complicated design in a rich blue that had never been seen before. It was perfect. Iqbal had worked better and faster than anyone else could have. The foreigners would go crazy over a rug like that. Iqbal was pale, too, but not as pale as Hussain Khan. He took the knife that we all used to cut the ends of the knots, raised it above his head, and seemed to look each of us in the eye. Then he calmly turned and cut the carpet from top to bottom, right through the middle. How does the author best reveal that Iqbal is courageous?