The Strength of Men

# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-b9b577d9b76041eaa412393d8b0648c4
# book_title: The Strength of Men
# chapter_id: 1-the-strength-of-men
# chapter_title: The Strength of Men
# book_page: 1 / 11
# chapter_page: 1
# language: en
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The air was thick with the promise of a fight. Everyone in Porcupine City knew what was coming, and every man and woman among its two hundred souls held their breath for the struggle between two men over a fortune—and a girl. Somehow, word of the girl had spread, passing from mouth to mouth, until even the children knew that there would be more at stake than gold when Clarry O'Grady and Jan Larose clashed. On the surface, it wasn't to be a fight with fists or guns, but there were a few in Porcupine City who knew the inside story—the story of the girl and the gold—and they wished they could have settled the matter differently. But the law was the law, and the code held sway. There was no other way. It was an odd situation, yet seemingly simple. Eighty miles north, as the crow flies, young Jan Larose had staked a rich claim at the headwaters of Pelican Creek. Later that same day, Clarry O'Grady had driven his stakes right beside Jan's.

It had been a race to the mining recorder's office, and they'd arrived neck and neck. Folks favored Larose, the slim, quiet, dark-eyed half-Frenchman. But the law had no sentiment. The recorder sent an agent north to investigate. If there were two sets of stakes, there could be only one verdict. Both claims would be thrown out, and then—everyone knew what would happen, or thought they did. It would be a grand race to see who could plant fresh stakes and get back to the recorder's office first. It would be a test of brawn and brain—unless those few who knew the inside story were right, and they spoke low among themselves.

O'Grady, strong as an ox, huge, with a face that had worn a triumphant sneer for days, was already the ten-to-one favorite. He was a master canoeman, no one in Porcupine City matched his endurance, and for his bow paddler he had the best Indian in the entire Reindeer Lake country. He strutted up and down the one street, buying drinks, cracking crude jokes, and taking bets, while Jan Larose and his long-armed Cree sat quietly in the shade of the recorder's office, waiting for the final moment.

# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-b9b577d9b76041eaa412393d8b0648c4
# book_title: The Strength of Men
# chapter_id: 1-the-strength-of-men
# chapter_title: The Strength of Men
# book_page: 2 / 11
# chapter_page: 2
# language: en
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Those who knew the inside story saw more than resignation and despair in Jan's quiet aloofness and the dejected droop of his head. His face went a shade paler when O'Grady passed, taunting and insulting him, glancing sideways in a way only he understood. But Jan did not answer, though his dark eyes blazed with a fire that never quite went out—unless it was when, alone, he'd take from his pocket a bit of buckskin holding a silken curl of brown hair. Then his eyes would shine with a soft, tender light, and anyone seeing him would know it wasn't gold that filled his heart but a brown-haired girl who had broken it.

That day, the sixth morning since the agent had left, everyone expected the wait to end. Porcupine City had almost stopped its daily business. A crowd lounged about the recorder's office. Women peeked out of cabin doors or gathered in little groups to talk about the biggest sporting event in the town's history. Every minute, anxious eyes scanned the river, where the agent's canoe would first appear. With dawn, O'Grady refused to drink. He stripped to the waist, his laugh louder. Hatred as much as triumph glittered in his eyes, for today Jan Larose looked him straight in the face and nodded whenever he passed. It was nearly noon when Jan said a few quiet words to his watchful Indian and walked to the top of the cedar-capped ridge that sheltered Porcupine City from the north winds.

# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-b9b577d9b76041eaa412393d8b0648c4
# book_title: The Strength of Men
# chapter_id: 1-the-strength-of-men
# chapter_title: The Strength of Men
# book_page: 3 / 11
# chapter_page: 3
# language: en
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From that ridge he could look straight north—the north where he was born. Only the Cree knew that for five nights Jan had slept or sat awake there, his face turned toward the North Star, his heart breaking with loneliness and grief. Up there, far beyond where the forests met the sky, he saw a little cabin snug under the stars—and Marie. His mind always drifted back to the beginning, no matter how he tried to forget: the old days when he'd carried little Marie on his back, tousled her brown curls, and shown her the wonders of the wild, never dreaming of the love to come. A half-frozen orphan brought in from the snow by Marie's father, he'd first been her playmate and brother, then lived through a few swift years of paradise and dreams. For Marie, he had made something of himself. He'd gone to Montreal, learned to read and write, worked for the Company, gotten to know the outside world, and at last the Government employed him.

It was a triumph. He could still see the pride and love in Marie's eyes when he'd returned from those two years in the great city. The Government sent for him each autumn after that. Deep into the wilderness he led the mapmakers, marked the northern limit of the Banksian pine, and his name was in government reports in black and white—so Marie and everyone could read.

One day he came back—and found Clarry O'Grady at the Cummins' cabin. O'Grady had been there for a month with a broken leg. Perhaps it was Marie's dangerous awareness of her own beauty, her teasing nature, that led her to flirt with O'Grady. But Jan couldn't understand, and she played with fire—the fire of two hearts instead of one. Jan's world fell apart after that. There came the day when, in a fair fight back in the woods, he choked the sneer from O'Grady's face. He fought like a tiger, a mad demon. No one ever knew of that fight, and with the demon still raging, he faced the girl. He never could remember what he said, but it was terrible, straight from his soul. Then he left, leaving Marie white and silent. He didn't go back. He swore never to. In the following weeks, word spread that Marie Cummins had turned down Jan Larose, and Clarry O'Grady was now the lucky man.

# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-b9b577d9b76041eaa412393d8b0648c4
# book_title: The Strength of Men
# chapter_id: 1-the-strength-of-men
# chapter_title: The Strength of Men
# book_page: 4 / 11
# chapter_page: 4
# language: en
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It was a cruel trick of fate that had brought them together and set their stakes side by side on Pelican Creek.

Today, for all his cool smiles, Jan's heart burned with a bitterness that seemed to hold all the dregs of his life. It poisoned him, body and soul. He wasn't a coward. He didn't fear O'Grady. Yet he felt fate had stacked the cards against him. He'd lose, he was almost sure, even as he braced himself for the fight. A drop of savage superstition told him something would go wrong. O'Grady had taken the home that was almost his and robbed him of Marie. In that forest fight, Jan should have killed him. That would have been justice. But he'd held back, half for Marie's sake, half because he hated taking a life, even O'Grady's. But this time there would be no mercy. He had come alone to the ridge to settle his doubts. Whoever won, there would be a fight, a magnificent fight, like the one his grandfather had fought and won for a woman's honor, ages ago. He was almost glad O'Grady was trying to steal his claim.

There would be twice the justice in killing him now, and it would be done fairly, as his grandfather had done.

Suddenly a piercing shout came from the river, and wild call for him through Jackpine's moose-horn. He answered with a yell and tore down through the brush. At the foot of the ridge, he saw the people running to the river. In front of the recorder's office stood Jackpine, blowing his horn. O'Grady and his Indian were already pushing their canoe into the stream, and as Jan watched, the crowd parted and the agent hurried toward the recorder's cabin.

Jan and his Indian ran to their canoe side by side. Jackpine was stripped to the waist, like O'Grady and his Chippewayan.

# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-b9b577d9b76041eaa412393d8b0648c4
# book_title: The Strength of Men
# chapter_id: 1-the-strength-of-men
# chapter_title: The Strength of Men
# book_page: 5 / 11
# chapter_page: 5
# language: en
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Jan threw off only his caribou-skin coat. His dark woolen shirt was sleeveless, his long, slim arms as hard as ribbed steel. Half the crowd followed him. He smiled and waved, his dark eyes shining big and black. Their canoe shot out to within a dozen yards of the other, and those ashore saw him laugh into O'Grady's sullen face. He was cool. His white teeth gleamed between smiling lips, and the women stared with bright eyes and flushed cheeks, wondering how Marie could have given up this man for the giant oaf with the drink-reddened face. The men who'd bet heavily against him felt a twinge of doubt. There was something in Jan's smile beyond coolness, not bravado. Even as he smiled and spoke low Cree to Jackpine, he felt at the belt hidden under his coat. Two sheaths, two knives, exactly alike. That was how his grandfather had set out, one summer day, to avenge a wrong nearly seventy years before.

The agent entered the cabin, then reappeared, wiping his sweating face with a red handkerchief. The recorder followed. He paused at the stream's edge and made a megaphone of his hands.

"Gentlemen," he cried hoarsely, "both claims have been thrown out!"

A wild yell came from O'Grady. In a flash, four paddles hit the water, and the two canoes shot up the stream, bow to bow, toward the lake above the bend. The crowd ran alongside until the swamp at the lake's edge stopped them, and neither had gained an inch. But among those who returned to Porcupine City, sentiment shifted. That night, betting was even money, not two or three to one on O'Grady. The last thing the men saw was Jan's cold, quiet smile, the gleam of his teeth, and something in his eyes more feared than bluster and brute strength. They chalked it up to confidence. None guessed the race meant no thought of gold to Jan, none guessed he was following an ancient code.

# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-b9b577d9b76041eaa412393d8b0648c4
# book_title: The Strength of Men
# chapter_id: 1-the-strength-of-men
# chapter_title: The Strength of Men
# book_page: 6 / 11
# chapter_page: 6
# language: en
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As the canoes entered the lake, the smile left Jan's face. His lips tightened, his eyes darkened, his breath quickened. For a while, O'Grady drew steadily ahead. When Jackpine's strokes deepened, Jan spoke in Cree and steered straight into their wake, a small advantage, but Jan counted on the cumulative effect. His eyes stayed fixed on O'Grady's huge, naked back. Between his knees lay his .303 rifle. He'd calculated the time to drop his paddle, grab the gun, and fire—his second tactical edge.

Once or twice in the first half hour, O'Grady glanced back, and Jan laughed tauntingly. There was something in that laugh that sent a chill through O'Grady—hard as steel, like a madman's laugh.

It was seven miles to the first portage, and there were nine in eighty miles. O'Grady and his Chippewayan were a hundred yards ahead when their canoe hit shore, and a hundred and fifty ahead when both were again in the water on the other side. O'Grady sent back a hoarse shout of triumph. Jan hunkered down and spoke to Jackpine, and the race truly began. They cut through the water faster and faster—five to six, to seven miles an hour—until the strain told. O'Grady's paddle snapped with a pistol-shot crack. He lost precious seconds grabbing another, and Jan closed in. At the second portage, fifteen miles out, O'Grady was two hundred yards ahead, and gained twenty more on the carry. Sobbing for breath, Jan put everything into his strokes, and slowly they gained—foot by foot, yard by yard—until they cut into O'Grady's wake. A dull pain crept into Jan's back, then his shoulders, his arms. He saw Jackpine's body begin to sway with strain.

Then he saw O'Grady's mad pace had started to tell on the other canoe. Their speed dropped, and the gap shrank to seventy yards. Despite the pain, Jan let out a low cry of joy. O'Grady had tried to break him in that first twenty miles and failed! His heart leaped with new hope even as his own strokes weakened.

# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-b9b577d9b76041eaa412393d8b0648c4
# book_title: The Strength of Men
# chapter_id: 1-the-strength-of-men
# chapter_title: The Strength of Men
# book_page: 7 / 11
# chapter_page: 7
# language: en
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Ahead, at the far end of the lake, black spruce loomed—the third portage, thirty miles from Porcupine City. Jan knew he'd win there, gaining an eighth of a mile in the half-mile carry. He knew a shortcut, a trail he'd cut himself during a winter trapping lynx. Marie lived just twelve miles beyond. She had often walked that old trap line with him, had helped him plan the little cabin he'd built on the edge of a big swamp, hidden from all but them. She had hung red paper curtains, and one day she'd written on a corner: "My beloved Jan." He forgot O'Grady as he thought of Marie and those happy days. Jackpine called him back to the present, and in amazement he saw O'Grady and his Indian had stopped paddling. They drifted, a dozen yards abreast. O'Grady's arms and shoulders glistened with sweat, his face purple, his eyes and lips twisted in the old sneer. He panted like a broken-winded horse. As Jan passed, O'Grady said nothing.

An eighth of a mile farther was the regular portage, but Jan swung into a shallow inlet where his secret trail began. Only when he was ashore did he look back. O'Grady and the Indian were leisurely heading for the point. For a moment it looked like they'd given up, and Jan's heart leaped. Then O'Grady waved, jumped into the water, and with a mighty shove sent his empty canoe speeding out into the lake. Jan caught his breath, hearing Jackpine's cry. O'Grady and the Indian sprinted up the portage trail, and with a fierce cry Jan lunged for his rifle.

He would have shot, but they were gone into the trees. He understood—O'Grady had tricked him, as before. There was another canoe waiting at the end of the portage, and perhaps more beyond. It was unfair. Jan could still hear O'Grady's taunting laugh. His blood boiled, so hot his eyes burned. Then a terrible thought struck him—who could have helped O'Grady? No man had gone north from Porcupine City. The code forbade it. It must be Marie!

Somehow O'Grady had gotten word to her, and it was the Cummins' canoe waiting for him.

# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-b9b577d9b76041eaa412393d8b0648c4
# book_title: The Strength of Men
# chapter_id: 1-the-strength-of-men
# chapter_title: The Strength of Men
# book_page: 8 / 11
# chapter_page: 8
# language: en
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With a cry of anguish, Jan lifted the canoe to his shoulder and ran. His strength returned, and he didn't feel the branches whipping his face. He passed the little cabin and, deep in his heart, cursed Marie and O'Grady, the two who had cheated him out of love and home and were now beating him through treachery. His face and hands were bleeding when they reached the waterway leading into the Blind Loon. In another minute they were racing again. At the mouth of the channel, he saw O'Grady a quarter mile ahead. Beyond, a pall of smoke rose from the forest.

Jan and Jackpine hadn't smelled burning, so they knew it was fresh fire. Never in Jan's memory had that portage been afire, and he wondered if this, too, was O'Grady's trick. As they advanced, the fire spread rapidly, bursting along the shore in a dozen places, sending up black smoke shot through with flame. O'Grady disappeared into the inferno, and soon his empty canoe drifted away from the beach. O'Grady and the Chippewayan were gone.

Staggering over the half-mile portage, Jan kept his eyes almost shut, gasping. Smoke blinded him, heat scorched his face. In spots the fire had crossed the trail, burning through their moccasins. Jackpine let out a cry of pain. But Jan's lips were set. Then he heard the roar of Dead Man's Whirlpool above the flames. Their feet found a narrow ledge of rock worn smooth by centuries of fur-trappers' tread, with the chasm on one side and a rock wall on the other. Along the crest of that wall, a hundred feet above, fire raged. A tree crashed behind them, a dozen seconds too late. The trail widened and sloped into a dip. Jan paused for a moment, and Jackpine shouted a warning.

From the smoldering pit where O'Grady should have found his canoe, two men rushed at them—O'Grady and the Chippewayan, with a knife and a club. Jan dropped the canoe, drew a knife, and stood ready. Jackpine came up beside him, hunting knife in hand, glaring at his hereditary foe.

# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-b9b577d9b76041eaa412393d8b0648c4
# book_title: The Strength of Men
# chapter_id: 1-the-strength-of-men
# chapter_title: The Strength of Men
# book_page: 9 / 11
# chapter_page: 9
# language: en
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Jan laughed softly, his teeth gleaming, for at last fate was on his side. The fire had burned O'Grady's canoe, so he meant to steal Jan's. For a canoe! He laughed again, while the fire roared and the whirlpool thundered. O'Grady would fight for gold, but Jan would fight for vengeance, for his sold soul and honor. He cared nothing for gold now, not even Marie. The code demanded fulfillment.

He was still smiling as O'Grady closed in, rage in his eyes. They stopped, just out of striking distance. Jan heard Jackpine and the Chippewayan clash behind him, but didn't look away. Both men knew this moment had to come. Suddenly Jan reached behind his belt, drew the second knife, and tossed it at O'Grady's feet.

O'Grady moved to pick it up, then, while Jan was slightly off guard, swung his club. But Jan was quick, evading with a loon-like dodge that had saved him before. The club whistled past his head, and O'Grady's momentum carried him forward.

Jan's knife flashed upward and plunged into O'Grady's forearm. With a cry, O'Grady dropped the club, and they crashed to the rock. O'Grady tried to grip Jan's throat, but Jan squirmed, got his knife arm free, and raised it for the fatal stroke.

In that instant, he caught a glimpse of Jackpine and the Chippewayan locked in a deadly embrace near the chasm's edge. They were oblivious to everything, their ancient hatred unleashed. Even as Jan watched, they pitched over the edge, a wild yell torn away, and fell into the abyss, still wrestling.

It happened in a flash. Jan's attention snapped back, and he drove his blade at O'Grady's side. But it struck something hard—a belt buckle—and he pulled back to strike again. Then a hissing roar overwhelmed them. An avalanche of fire and debris dropped from the cliff above. Jan was pinned, not by O'Grady but by a weight of timber and ash. He struggled free, scorched and half blinded. He heard O'Grady shriek. Jan dragged himself closer to the chasm's edge, gasping for air. He could see again. O'Grady stood nearby, half naked, tearing at his face.

"Jan! Jan!" O'Grady cried. "My God, don't strike now! I'm blind—blind!" He staggered back, arms raised. "Mother of Heaven—my eyes are burnt out—blind—blind!"

# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-b9b577d9b76041eaa412393d8b0648c4
# book_title: The Strength of Men
# chapter_id: 1-the-strength-of-men
# chapter_title: The Strength of Men
# book_page: 10 / 11
# chapter_page: 10
# language: en
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Jan tried to move and groaned in agony. Another crash echoed as more fiery rubble fell. Flames roared overhead, sealing their escape. It was moments from death. Jan looked at O'Grady and felt no more desire to kill. The giant was unharmed except for his eyes.

"O'Grady," Jan called, "my legs are broken. I can't move. You can get away. Follow the wall to your right—the slope is still clear."

O'Grady began to feel his way along the wall, then stopped. "Jan, you can't move?" He turned and groped back toward the sound. Jan's hand tightened on a rock, ready to defend himself. But O'Grady called out, "Jan! You don't think I'm a beast, do you? The fight's over, man. God Almighty brought this to show us fools. Where are you?

I'll carry you!"

Jan guided him, trusting the truth in his voice. Their hands met, and O'Grady hoisted him onto his back. "I'm blind," O'Grady said, "and maybe you won't walk again. But if we get to the gold, I'll do the work and you can show me. Now point the way, Jan!"

With his arms around O'Grady's shoulders, Jan shouted directions—left, right—through the smoke. O'Grady bowed his head and plodded on, his moccasins burning away, his chest blistering. But he never wavered. Jan felt the power of the man, and a new respect grew. They followed the wall until fire blocked them, then along a narrow edge above the chasm. Jan directed each step. Once he saw the abyss yawning below, where Jackpine and the Chippewayan had fallen. Then smoke closed in, and Jan could see nothing.

"We've got one chance, Clarry," he yelled. "I can't see. Go straight ahead—run for it!"

O'Grady drew a deep breath and ran into the wall of smoke. Jan closed his eyes, expecting to plunge over a cliff. Instead, cool air washed over them. They had escaped the fire, and a clear slope led down to the lake. Jan shouted the news. O'Grady gave a great sobbing cry, part joy, part pain, then waded into the water and threw it on his face. He stared up, hopeless. "My God, I'm blind—stone blind!"

Jan studied him, then said with a trembling voice, "You're not blind, O'Grady. I've seen it before. You'll get well. Let's shake—I'm your brother from this day on. I'm glad—glad Marie loves a man like you!"

# book_id: global-gutenberg-story-b9b577d9b76041eaa412393d8b0648c4
# book_title: The Strength of Men
# chapter_id: 1-the-strength-of-men
# chapter_title: The Strength of Men
# book_page: 11 / 11
# chapter_page: 11
# language: en
# content_format: markdown
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O'Grady dropped his hand as if burned. "Marie? She hates me!" he cried. "It's you she loves! I went there with a broken leg and fell in love with her, but she wouldn't even let me touch her hand. She only talked of you, always, until I came to hate you sight unseen. I guess it was all to make you jealous. It didn't mean anything, Jan. She never knew. The day you left, she sent me to find you, but I hated you more than she hated me. It's you she..."

He choked, and Jan gave a wild shout as he spotted a man in a canoe rounding a headland. "There! He sees us! It looks like—a canoe we both know." Jan laughed despite his pain. "We'll go back to her cabin together, O'Grady. And when we're well—I never wanted the gold. It's yours."

But O'Grady shook his head, a determined look on his face. He groped to Jan's side and held out his hand. "You can't throw me off like that, Jan. We're partners!"

And in that clasp, beneath the vast northern sky, two enemies found something stronger than gold or revenge—the strength of men united as brothers.