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." Once when Pierre called him "mon
ami," and asked him to come and spend an evening in his cottage, he
said:

"Yes, I will go. But--pardon me--not as your friend. Let us be plain
with each other. I never met a man of your stamp before--"

"A professional gambler--yes? Bien?"

"You interest me; I like you; you have great cleverness--"

"A priest once told me I had a great brain-there is a difference. Well?"

"You are like no man I ever met before. Yours is a life like none I
ever knew. I would rather talk with you than with any other man in the
country, and yet--"

"And yet you would not take me to your home? That is all right. I expect
nothing. I accept the terms. I know what I am and what you are. I like
men who are square. You would go out of your way to do me a good turn."

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."

Pierre rose, walked up and down the room once or twice, then stood
still, his arms folded, and spoke in a low tone. "Once in the Rockies I
was lost. I crept into a cave at night. I knew it was the nest of some
wild animal; but I was nearly dead with hunger and fatigue. I fell
asleep. When I woke--it was towards morning--I saw two yellow stars
glaring where the mouth of the cave had been. They were all hate: like
nothing you could imagine: passion as it is first made--yes. There was
also a rumbling sound. It was terrible, and yet I was not scare