le swiftness: they were hastening to meet
it. It came on wave-like, hurrying down at the right and the left as
if to close in on them. 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.

"Ride on," she urged in a strong, clear voice, a kind of wild triumph in
it. "You shall not go alone."

There ran into his eyes now the same infinite look that had been in
hers--that had conquered him. The flame rolling towards them was not
brighter or hotter.

"For heaven or hell, my girl!" he cried, and they drove their horses
on--on.

Far behind upon a Divide the flying hunters from Guidon Hill paused for
a moment. They saw with hushed wonder and awe a man and woman, dark
and weird against the red light, ride madly into the flickering surf of
fire.

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:

A human life he held to be a trifle in the big sum of time
Advantage to live where nothing was required of her but truth
All humour in him had a strain of the sardonic
Bad turns good sometimes, when you know the how
Don't be too honest
Every shot that kills ricochets
Fear of one's own wife is the worst fear in the world
Have you ever felt the hand of your own child in yours
He never saw an insult unless he intended to avenge it
How can you judge the facts if you don't know the feeling?
In her heart she never can defy the world as does a man
Liars all men may be, but that's wid wimmin or landlords
Memory is man's greatest friend and worst enemy
Men are like dogs--they worship him who beats them
Not good to have one thing in the head all the time
Put the matter on your own hearthstone
Remember the sorrow of thine own wife
Secret of life: to keep your own commandments
She valued what others found useless
She had not suffered that sickness, social artifice
Solitude fixes our hearts immovably on things
Some people are rough with the poor--and proud
Some wise men are fools, one way or another
They whose tragedy lies in the capacity to suffer greatly
Think with the minds of twelve men, and the heart of one