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Updated: June 21, 2025
There is a kind of corrosion which eats the granite out of the blood, and leaves fever. "What is the worst thing that can happen a man, eh?" he said to Liddall one day, after having spent a few minutes with Kitty Cline. Liddall was an honest man. He knew the world tolerably well. In writing once to his partner in Montreal he had spoken of Pierre as "an admirable, interesting scoundrel."
Pierre was sure, before Liddall, the surveyor, told him, that a movement was apace to give him trouble possibly fatal. "You had better go," said Liddall. "There's no use tempting Providence." "They are tempting the devil," was the cool reply; "and that is not all joy, as you shall see." He stayed. For a time there was no demonstration on either side.
Together they ran down the hillside, and made for the stables of the Fort. People were hurrying through the long street of the town, and torches were burning, but they came by a roundabout to the stables safely. Pierre was about to enter, when a man came out. It was Liddall. He kept his horses there, and he had saddled one, thinking that Pierre might need it.
It was on his tongue to speak of Katy Cline, but he hesitated: it was not fair to the girl, he thought, though what he had intended was for her good. He felt he had no right to assume that Liddall knew how things were. The occasion slipped by. But the same matter had been in his mind when, later, he asked, "What is the worst thing that can happen to a man?"
In time the man goes to pieces. But before that comes he is apt to do strange things. Eh-so!" He sat down, and, with his finger, wrote musingly in the dust upon the table. Liddall looked keenly at him, and replied more brusquely than he felt: "Do you think it fair to stay fair to her?" "What if I should take her with me?" Pierre flashed a keen, searching look after the words.
He turned round to see his pursuers: they had wheeled and were galloping back the way they came. His horse and hers were travelling neck and neck. He looked at her with an intense, eager gaze. "Will you ride on?" he asked eagerly. "We are between two fires." He smiled, remembering his words to Liddall. "Ride on," she urged in a strong, clear voice, a kind of wild triumph in it.
There were quick words of explanation, and then, "Must the girl go too?" he asked. "It will increase the danger besides " "I am going wherever he goes," she interrupted hoarsely. "I have killed men; he and I are the same now." Without a word Liddall turned back, threw a saddle on another horse, and led it out quickly. "Which way?" he asked; "and where shall I find the horses?"
The girl spoke no word; she had no fear: what Pierre did she would do. He turned round to see his pursuers: they had wheeled and were galloping back the way they came. His horse and hers were travelling neck and neck. He looked at her with an intense, eager gaze. "Will you ride on?" he asked eagerly. "We are between two fires." He smiled, remembering his words to Liddall.
It was on his tongue to speak of Katy Cline, but he hesitated: it was not fair to the girl, he thought, though what he had intended was for her good. He felt he had no right to assume that Liddall knew how things were. The occasion slipped by. But the same matter had been in his mind when, later, he asked, "What is the worst thing that can happen to a man?"
Liddall looked at him long, and then said: "To stand between two fires." Pierre smiled: it was an answer after his own heart. Liddall remembered it very well in the future. "What is the thing to do in such a case?" Pierre asked. "It is not good to stand still." "But what if you are stunned, or do not care?" "You should care. It is not wise to strain a situation."
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