. They laid it to confidence. None guessed that this race held
for Jan no thought of the gold at the end. None guessed that he was
following out the working of a code as old as the name of his race in
the north.

As the canoes entered the lake the smile left Jan's face. His lips
tightened until they were almost a straight line. His eyes grew darker,
his breath came more quickly. For a little while O'Grady's canoe drew
steadily ahead of them, and when Jackpine's strokes went deeper and
more powerful Jan spoke to him in Cree, and guided the canoe so that it
cut straight as an arrow in O'Grady's wake. There was an advantage in
that. It was small, but Jan counted on the cumulative results of good
generalship.

His eyes never for an instant left O'Grady's huge, naked back. Between
his knees lay his .303 rifle. He had figured on the fraction of time it
would take him to drop his paddle, pick up the gun, and fire. This was
his second point in generalship--getting the drop on O'Grady.

Once or twice in the first half hour O'Grady glanced back over his
shoulder, and it was Jan who now laughed tauntingly at the other. There
was something in that laugh that sent a chill through O'Grady. It was
as hard as steel, a sort of madman's laugh.

It was seven miles to the first portage, and there were nine in the
eighty-mile stretch. O'Grady and his Chippewayan were a hundred yards
ahead when the prow of their canoe touched shore. They were a hundred
and fifty ahead when both canoes were once more in the water on the
other side of the portage, and O'Grady sent back a hoarse shout of
triumph. Jan hunched himself a little lower. He spoke to Jackpine--and
the race began. Swifter and swifter the canoes cut through the water.
From five miles an hour to six, from six to six and a
half--seven--seven and a quarter, and then the strain told. A paddle
snapped in O'Grady's hands with a sound like a pistol shot. A dozen
seconds were lost while he snatched up a new paddle and caught the
Chippewayan's stroke, and Jan swung close into their wake again. At the
end of the fifteenth mile, where the second portage began, O'Grady was
two hundred yards in the lead. He gained another twenty on the portage
and with a breath that was coming now in sobbing swiftness Jan put
every ounce of strength behind the thrust of his paddle. Slowly they
gained. Foot by foot, yard by yard, until for a third time they cut
into O'Grady's wake. A dull pain crept into Jan's ba