A princess of Mars

ILLUSTRATIONS

I sought out Dejah Thoris in the throng of departing chariots.

She drew upon the marble floor the first map of the Barsoomian territory I had ever seen.

The old man sat and talked with me for hours.

With my back against a golden throne, I fought once again for Dejah Thoris.

FOREWORD

To the Reader of this Work:

In submitting Captain Carter’s strange manuscript to you in book form,

I believe that a few words relative to this remarkable personality will

be of interest.

My first recollection of Captain Carter is of the few months he spent

at my father’s home in Virginia, just prior to the opening of the civil

war. I was then a child of but five years, yet I well remember the

tall, dark, smooth-faced, athletic man whom I called Uncle Jack.

He seemed always to be laughing; and he entered into the sports of the

children with the same hearty good fellowship he displayed toward those

pastimes in which the men and women of his own age indulged; or he

would sit for an hour at a time entertaining my old grandmother with

stories of his strange, wild life in all parts of the world. We all

loved him, and our slaves fairly worshipped the ground he trod.

He was a splendid specimen of manhood, standing a good two inches over

six feet, broad of shoulder and narrow of hip, with the carriage of the

trained fighting man. His features were regular and clear cut, his hair

black and closely cropped, while his eyes were of a steel gray,

reflecting a strong and loyal character, filled with fire and

initiative. His manners were perfect, and his courtliness was that of a

typical southern gentleman of the highest type.

His horsemanship, especially after hounds, was a marvel and delight

even in that country of magnificent horsemen. I have often heard my

father caution him against his wild recklessness, but he would only

laugh, and say that the tumble that killed him would be from the back

of a horse yet unfoaled.

When the war broke out he left us, nor did I see him again for some

fifteen or sixteen years. When he returned it was without warning, and

I was much surprised to note that he had not aged apparently a moment,

nor had he changed in any other outward way. He was, when others were

with him, the same genial, happy fellow we had known of old, but when

he thought himself alone I have seen him sit for hours gazing off into

space, his face set in a look of wistful longing and hopeless misery;

and at night he would sit thus looking up into the heavens, at what I

did not know until I read his manuscript years afterward.

He told us that he had been prospecting and mining in Arizona part of

the time since the war; and that he had been very successful was

evidenced by the unlimited amount of money with which he was supplied.

As to the details of his life during these years he was very reticent,

in fact he would not talk of them at all.

He remained with us for about a year and then went to New York, where

he purchased a little place on the Hudson, where I visited him once a

year on the occasions of my trips to the New York market—my father and

I owning and operating a string of general stores throughout Virginia

at that time. Captain Carter had a small but beautiful cottage,

situated on a bluff overlooking the river, and during one of my last

visits, in the winter of 1885, I observed he was much occupied in

writing, I presume now, upon this manuscript.

He told me at this time that if anything should happen to him he wished

me to take charge of his estate, and he gave me a key to a compartment

in the safe which stood in his study, telling me I would find his will

there and some personal instructions which he had me pledge myself to

carry out with absolute fidelity.

After I had retired for the night I have seen him from my window

standing in the moonlight on the brink of the bluff overlooking the

Hudson with his arms stretched out to the heavens as though in appeal.

I thought at the time that he was praying, although I never understood

that he was in the strict sense of the term a religious man.

Several months after I had returned home from my last visit, the first

of March, 1886, I think, I received a telegram from him asking me to

come to him at once. I had always been his favorite among the younger

generation of Carters and so I hastened to comply with his demand.

I arrived at the little station, about a mile from his grounds, on the

morning of March 4, 1886, and when I asked the livery man to drive me

out to Captain Carter’s he replied that if I was a friend of the

Captain’s he had some very bad news for me; the Captain had been found

dead shortly after daylight that very morning by the watchman attached

to an adjoining property.

For some reason this news did not surprise me, but I hurried out to his

place as quickly as possible, so that I could take charge of the body

and of his affairs.

I found the watchman who had discovered him, together with the local

police chief and several townspeople, assembled in his little study.

The watchman related the few details connected with the finding of the

body, which he said had been still warm when he came upon it. It lay,

he said, stretched full length in the snow with the arms outstretched

above the head toward the edge of the bluff, and when he showed me the

spot it flashed upon me that it was the identical one where I had seen

him on those other nights, with his arms raised in supplication to the

skies.

There were no marks of violence on the body, and with the aid of a

local physician the coroner’s jury quickly reached a decision of death

from heart failure. Left alone in the study, I opened the safe and

withdrew the contents of the drawer in which he had told me I would

find my instructions. They were in part peculiar indeed, but I have

followed them to each last detail as faithfully as I was able.

He directed that I remove his body to Virginia without embalming, and

that he be laid in an open coffin within a tomb which he previously had

had constructed and which, as I later learned, was well ventilated. The

instructions impressed upon me that I must personally see that this was

carried out just as he directed, even in secrecy if necessary.

His property was left in such a way that I was to receive the entire

income for twenty-five years, when the principal was to become mine.

His further instructions related to this manuscript which I was to

retain sealed and unread, just as I found it, for eleven years; nor was

I to divulge its contents until twenty-one years after his death.

A strange feature about the tomb, where his body still lies, is that

the massive door is equipped with a single, huge gold-plated spring

lock which can be opened _only from the inside_.

Yours very sincerely,

Edgar Rice Burroughs.

CHAPTER I

ON THE ARIZONA HILLS

I am a very old man; how old I do not know. Possibly I am a hundred,

possibly more; but I cannot tell because I have never aged as other

men, nor do I remember any childhood. So far as I can recollect I have

always been a man, a man of about thirty. I appear today as I did forty

years and more ago, and yet I feel that I cannot go on living forever;

that some day I shall die the real death from which there is no

resurrection. I do not know why I should fear death, I who have died

twice and am still alive; but yet I have the same horror of it as you

who have never died, and it is because of this terror of death, I

believe, that I am so convinced of my mortality.

And because of this conviction I have determined to write down the

story of the interesting periods of my life and of my death. I cannot

explain the phenomena; I can only set down here in the words of an

ordinary soldier of fortune a chronicle of the strange events that

befell me during the ten years that my dead body lay undiscovered in an

Arizona cave.

I have never told this story, nor shall mortal man see this manuscript

until after I have passed over for eternity. I know that the average

human mind will not believe what it cannot grasp, and so I do not

purpose being pilloried by the public, the pulpit, and the press, and

held up as a colossal liar when I am but telling the simple truths

which some day science will substantiate. Possibly the suggestions

which I gained upon Mars, and the knowledge which I can set down in

this chronicle, will aid in an earlier understanding of the mysteries

of our sister planet; mysteries to you, but no longer mysteries to me.

My name is John Carter; I am better known as Captain Jack Carter of

Virginia. At the close of the Civil War I found myself possessed of

several hundred thousand dollars (Confederate) and a captain’s

commission in the cavalry arm of an army which no longer existed; the

servant of a state which had vanished with the hopes of the South.

Masterless, penniless, and with my only means of livelihood, fighting,

gone, I determined to work my way to the southwest and attempt to

retrieve my fallen fortunes in a search for gold.

I spent nearly a year prospecting in company with another Confederate

officer, Captain James K. Powell of Richmond. We were extremely

fortunate, for late in the winter of 1865, after many hardships and

privations, we located the most remarkable gold-bearing quartz vein

that our wildest dreams had ever pictured. Powell, who was a mining

engineer by education, stated that we had uncovered over a million

dollars worth of ore in a trifle over three months.

As our equipment was crude in the extreme we decided that one of us

must return to civilization, purchase the necessary machinery and

return with a sufficient force of men properly to work the mine.

As Powell was familiar with the country, as well as with the mechanical

requirements of mining we determined that it would be best for him to

make the trip. It was agreed that I was to hold down our claim against

the remote possibility of its being jumped by some wandering

prospector.

On March 3, 1866, Powell and I packed his provisions on two of our

burros, and bidding me good-bye he mounted his horse, and started down

the mountainside toward the valley, across which led the first stage of

his journey.

The morning of Powell’s departure was, like nearly all Arizona

mornings, clear and beautiful; I could see him and his little pack

animals picking their way down the mountainside toward the valley, and

all during the morning I would catch occasional glimpses of them as

they topped a hog back or came out upon a level plateau. My last sight

of Powell was about three in the afternoon as he entered the shadows of

the range on the opposite side of the valley.

Some half hour later I happened to glance casually across the valley

and was much surprised to note three little dots in about the same

place I had last seen my friend and his two pack animals. I am not

given to needless worrying, but the more I tried to convince myself

that all was well with Powell, and that the dots I had seen on his

trail were antelope or wild horses, the less I was able to assure

myself.

Since we had entered the territory we had not seen a hostile Indian,

and we had, therefore, become careless in the extreme, and were wont to

ridicule the stories we had heard of the great numbers of these vicious

marauders that were supposed to haunt the trails, taking their toll in

lives and torture of every white party which fell into their merciless

clutches.

Powell, I knew, was well armed and, further, an experienced Indian

fighter; but I too had lived and fought for years among the Sioux in

the North, and I knew that his chances were small against a party of

cunning trailing Apaches. Finally I could endure the suspense no

longer, and, arming myself with my two Colt revolvers and a carbine, I

strapped two belts of cartridges about me and catching my saddle horse,

started down the trail taken by Powell in the morning.

As soon as I reached comparatively level ground I urged my mount into a

canter and continued this, where the going permitted, until, close upon

dusk, I discovered the point where other tracks joined those of Powell.

They were the tracks of unshod ponies, three of them, and the ponies

had been galloping.

I followed rapidly until, darkness shutting down, I was forced to await

the rising of the moon, and given an opportunity to speculate on the

question of the wisdom of my chase. Possibly I had conjured up

impossible dangers, like some nervous old housewife, and when I should

catch up with Powell would get a good laugh for my pains. However, I am

not prone to sensitiveness, and the following of a sense of duty,

wherever it may lead, has always been a kind of fetich with me

throughout my life; which may account for the honors bestowed upon me

by three republics and the decorations and friendships of an old and

powerful emperor and several lesser kings, in whose service my sword

has been red many a time.

About nine o’clock the moon was sufficiently bright for me to proceed

on my way and I had no difficulty in following the trail at a fast

walk, and in some places at a brisk trot until, about midnight, I

reached the water hole where Powell had expected to camp. I came upon

the spot unexpectedly, finding it entirely deserted, with no signs of

having been recently occupied as a camp.

I was interested to note that the tracks of the pursuing horsemen, for

such I was now convinced they must be, continued after Powell with only

a brief stop at the hole for water; and always at the same rate of

speed as his.

I was positive now that the trailers were Apaches and that they wished

to capture Powell alive for the fiendish pleasure of the torture, so I

urged my horse onward at a most dangerous pace, hoping against hope

that I would catch up with the red rascals before they attacked him.

Further speculation was suddenly cut short by the faint report of two

shots far ahead of me. I knew that Powell would need me now if ever,

and I instantly urged my horse to his topmost speed up the narrow and

difficult mountain trail.

I had forged ahead for perhaps a mile or more without hearing further

sounds, when the trail suddenly debouched onto a small, open plateau

near the summit of the pass. I had passed through a narrow, overhanging

gorge just before entering suddenly upon this table land, and the sight

which met my eyes filled me with consternation and dismay.

The little stretch of level land was white with Indian tepees, and

there were probably half a thousand red warriors clustered around some

object near the center of the camp. Their attention was so wholly

riveted to this point of interest that they did not notice me, and I

easily could have turned back into the dark recesses of the gorge and

made my escape with perfect safety. The fact, however, that this

thought did not occur to me until the following day removes any

possible right to a claim to heroism to which the narration of this

episode might possibly otherwise entitle me.

I do not believe that I am made of the stuff which constitutes heroes,

because, in all of the hundreds of instances that my voluntary acts

have placed me face to face with death, I cannot recall a single one

where any alternative step to that I took occurred to me until many

hours later. My mind is evidently so constituted that I am

subconsciously forced into the path of duty without recourse to

tiresome mental processes. However that may be, I have never regretted

that cowardice is not optional with me.

In this instance I was, of course, positive that Powell was the center

of attraction, but whether I thought or acted first I do not know, but

within an instant from the moment the scene broke upon my view I had

whipped out my revolvers and was charging down upon the entire army of

warriors, shooting rapidly, and whooping at the top of my lungs.

Singlehanded, I could not have pursued better tactics, for the red men,

convinced by sudden surprise that not less than a regiment of regulars

was upon them, turned and fled in every direction for their bows,

arrows, and rifles.

The view which their hurried routing disclosed filled me with

apprehension and with rage. Under the clear rays of the Arizona moon

lay Powell, his body fairly bristling with the hostile arrows of the

braves. That he was already dead I could not but be convinced, and yet

I would have saved his body from mutilation at the hands of the Apaches

as quickly as I would have saved the man himself from death.

Riding close to him I reached down from the saddle, and grasping his

cartridge belt drew him up across the withers of my mount. A backward

glance convinced me that to return by the way I had come would be more

hazardous than to continue across the plateau, so, putting spurs to my

poor beast, I made a dash for the opening to the pass which I could

distinguish on the far side of the table land.

The Indians had by this time discovered that I was alone and I was

pursued with imprecations, arrows, and rifle balls. The fact that it is

difficult to aim anything but imprecations accurately by moonlight,

that they were upset by the sudden and unexpected manner of my advent,

and that I was a rather rapidly moving target saved me from the various

deadly projectiles of the enemy and permitted me to reach the shadows

of the surrounding peaks before an orderly pursuit could be organized.

My horse was traveling practically unguided as I knew that I had

probably less knowledge of the exact location of the trail to the pass

than he, and thus it happened that he entered a defile which led to the

summit of the range and not to the pass which I had hoped would carry

me to the valley and to safety. It is probable, however, that to this

fact I owe my life and the remarkable experiences and adventures which

befell me during the following ten years.

My first knowledge that I was on the wrong trail came when I heard the

yells of the pursuing savages suddenly grow fainter and fainter far off

to my left.

I knew then that they had passed to the left of the jagged rock

formation at the edge of the plateau, to the right of which my horse

had borne me and the body of Powell.

I drew rein on a little level promontory overlooking the trail below

and to my left, and saw the party of pursuing savages disappearing

around the point of a neighboring peak.

I knew the Indians would soon discover that they were on the wrong

trail and that the search for me would be renewed in the right

direction as soon as they located my tracks.

I had gone but a short distance further when what seemed to be an

excellent trail opened up around the face of a high cliff. The trail

was level and quite broad and led upward and in the general direction I

wished to go. The cliff arose for several hundred feet on my right, and

on my left was an equal and nearly perpendicular drop to the bottom of

a rocky ravine.

I had followed this trail for perhaps a hundred yards when a sharp turn

to the right brought me to the mouth of a large cave. The opening was

about four feet in height and three to four feet wide, and at this

opening the trail ended.

It was now morning, and, with the customary lack of dawn which is a

startling characteristic of Arizona, it had become daylight almost

without warning.

Dismounting, I laid Powell upon the ground, but the most painstaking

examination failed to reveal the faintest spark of life. I forced water

from my canteen between his dead lips, bathed his face and rubbed his

hands, working over him continuously for the better part of an hour in

the face of the fact that I knew him to be dead.

I was very fond of Powell; he was thoroughly a man in every respect; a

polished southern gentleman; a staunch and true friend; and it was with

a feeling of the deepest grief that I finally gave up my crude

endeavors at resuscitation.

Leaving Powell’s body where it lay on the ledge I crept into the cave

to reconnoiter. I found a large chamber, possibly a hundred feet in

diameter and thirty or forty feet in height; a smooth and well-worn

floor, and many other evidences that the cave had, at some remote

period, been inhabited. The back of the cave was so lost in dense

shadow that I could not distinguish whether there were openings into

other apartments or not.

As I was continuing my examination I commenced to feel a pleasant

drowsiness creeping over me which I attributed to the fatigue of my

long and strenuous ride, and the reaction from the excitement of the

fight and the pursuit. I felt comparatively safe in my present location

as I knew that one man could defend the trail to the cave against an

army.

I soon became so drowsy that I could scarcely resist the strong desire

to throw myself on the floor of the cave for a few moments’ rest, but I

knew that this would never do, as it would mean certain death at the

hands of my red friends, who might be upon me at any moment. With an

effort I started toward the opening of the cave only to reel drunkenly

against a side wall, and from there slip prone upon the floor.

CHAPTER II

THE ESCAPE OF THE DEAD

A sense of delicious dreaminess overcame me, my muscles relaxed, and I

was on the point of giving way to my desire to sleep when the sound of

approaching horses reached my ears. I attempted to spring to my feet

but was horrified to discover that my muscles refused to respond to my

will. I was now thoroughly awake, but as unable to move a muscle as

though turned to stone. It was then, for the first time, that I noticed

a slight vapor filling the cave. It was extremely tenuous and only

noticeable against the opening which led to daylight. There also came

to my nostrils a faintly pungent odor, and I could only assume that I

had been overcome by some poisonous gas, but why I should retain my

mental faculties and yet be unable to move I could not fathom.

I lay facing the opening of the cave and where I could see the short

stretch of trail which lay between the cave and the turn of the cliff

around which the trail led. The noise of the approaching horses had

ceased, and I judged the Indians were creeping stealthily upon me along

the little ledge which led to my living tomb. I remember that I hoped

they would make short work of me as I did not particularly relish the

thought of the innumerable things they might do to me if the spirit

prompted them.

I had not long to wait before a stealthy sound apprised me of their

nearness, and then a war-bonneted, paint-streaked face was thrust

cautiously around the shoulder of the cliff, and savage eyes looked

into mine. That he could see me in the dim light of the cave I was sure

for the early morning sun was falling full upon me through the opening.

The fellow, instead of approaching, merely stood and stared; his eyes

bulging and his jaw dropped. And then another savage face appeared, and

a third and fourth and fifth, craning their necks over the shoulders of

their fellows whom they could not pass upon the narrow ledge. Each face

was the picture of awe and fear, but for what reason I did not know,

nor did I learn until ten years later. That there were still other

braves behind those who regarded me was apparent from the fact that the

leaders passed back whispered word to those behind them.

Suddenly a low but distinct moaning sound issued from the recesses of

the cave behind me, and, as it reached the ears of the Indians, they

turned and fled in terror, panic-stricken. So frantic were their

efforts to escape from the unseen thing behind me that one of the

braves was hurled headlong from the cliff to the rocks below. Their

wild cries echoed in the canyon for a short time, and then all was

still once more.

The sound which had frightened them was not repeated, but it had been

sufficient as it was to start me speculating on the possible horror

which lurked in the shadows at my back. Fear is a relative term and so

I can only measure my feelings at that time by what I had experienced

in previous positions of danger and by those that I have passed through

since; but I can say without shame that if the sensations I endured

during the next few minutes were fear, then may God help the coward,

for cowardice is of a surety its own punishment.

To be held paralyzed, with one’s back toward some horrible and unknown

danger from the very sound of which the ferocious Apache warriors turn

in wild stampede, as a flock of sheep would madly flee from a pack of

wolves, seems to me the last word in fearsome predicaments for a man

who had ever been used to fighting for his life with all the energy of

a powerful physique.

Several times I thought I heard faint sounds behind me as of somebody

moving cautiously, but eventually even these ceased, and I was left to

the contemplation of my position without interruption. I could but

vaguely conjecture the cause of my paralysis, and my only hope lay in

that it might pass off as suddenly as it had fallen upon me.

Late in the afternoon my horse, which had been standing with dragging

rein before the cave, started slowly down the trail, evidently in

search of food and water, and I was left alone with my mysterious

unknown companion and the dead body of my friend, which lay just within

my range of vision upon the ledge where I had placed it in the early

morning.

From then until possibly midnight all was silence, the silence of the

dead; then, suddenly, the awful moan of the morning broke upon my

startled ears, and there came again from the black shadows the sound of

a moving thing, and a faint rustling as of dead leaves. The shock to my

already overstrained nervous system was terrible in the extreme, and

with a superhuman effort I strove to break my awful bonds. It was an

effort of the mind, of the will, of the nerves; not muscular, for I

could not move even so much as my little finger, but none the less

mighty for all that. And then something gave, there was a momentary

feeling of nausea, a sharp click as of the snapping of a steel wire,

and I stood with my back against the wall of the cave facing my unknown

foe.

And then the moonlight flooded the cave, and there before me lay my own

body as it had been lying all these hours, with the eyes staring toward

the open ledge and the hands resting limply upon the ground. I looked

first at my lifeless clay there upon the floor of the cave and then

down at myself in utter bewilderment; for there I lay clothed, and yet

here I stood but naked as at the minute of my birth.

The transition had been so sudden and so unexpected that it left me for

a moment forgetful of aught else than my strange metamorphosis. My

first thought was, is this then death! Have I indeed passed over

forever into that other life! But I could not well believe this, as I

could feel my heart pounding against my ribs from the exertion of my

efforts to release myself from the anaesthesis which had held me. My

breath was coming in quick, short gasps, cold sweat stood out from

every pore of my body, and the ancient experiment of pinching revealed

the fact that I was anything other than a wraith.

Again was I suddenly recalled to my immediate surroundings by a

repetition of the weird moan from the depths of the cave. Naked and

unarmed as I was, I had no desire to face the unseen thing which

menaced me.

My revolvers were strapped to my lifeless body which, for some

unfathomable reason, I could not bring myself to touch. My carbine was

in its boot, strapped to my saddle, and as my horse had wandered off I

was left without means of defense. My only alternative seemed to lie in

flight and my decision was crystallized by a recurrence of the rustling

sound from the thing which now seemed, in the darkness of the cave and

to my distorted imagination, to be creeping stealthily upon me.

Unable longer to resist the temptation to escape this horrible place I

leaped quickly through the opening into the starlight of a clear

Arizona night. The crisp, fresh mountain air outside the cave acted as

an immediate tonic and I felt new life and new courage coursing through

me. Pausing upon the brink of the ledge I upbraided myself for what now

seemed to me wholly unwarranted apprehension. I reasoned with myself

that I had lain helpless for many hours within the cave, yet nothing

had molested me, and my better judgment, when permitted the direction

of clear and logical reasoning, convinced me that the noises I had

heard must have resulted from purely natural and harmless causes;

probably the conformation of the cave was such that a slight breeze had

caused the sounds I heard.

I decided to investigate, but first I lifted my head to fill my lungs

with the pure, invigorating night air of the mountains. As I did so I

saw stretching far below me the beautiful vista of rocky gorge, and

level, cacti-studded flat, wrought by the moonlight into a miracle of

soft splendor and wondrous enchantment.

Few western wonders are more inspiring than the beauties of an Arizona

moonlit landscape; the silvered mountains in the distance, the strange

lights and shadows upon hog back and arroyo, and the grotesque details

of the stiff, yet beautiful cacti form a picture at once enchanting and

inspiring; as though one were catching for the first time a glimpse of

some dead and forgotten world, so different is it from the aspect of

any other spot upon our earth.

As I stood thus meditating, I turned my gaze from the landscape to the

heavens where the myriad stars formed a gorgeous and fitting canopy for

the wonders of the earthly scene. My attention was quickly riveted by a

large red star close to the distant horizon. As I gazed upon it I felt

a spell of overpowering fascination—it was Mars, the god of war, and

for me, the fighting man, it had always held the power of irresistible

enchantment. As I gazed at it on that far-gone night it seemed to call

across the unthinkable void, to lure me to it, to draw me as the

lodestone attracts a particle of iron.

My longing was beyond the power of opposition; I closed my eyes,

stretched out my arms toward the god of my vocation and felt myself

drawn with the suddenness of thought through the trackless immensity of

space. There was an instant of extreme cold and utter darkness.

CHAPTER III

MY ADVENT ON MARS

I opened my eyes upon a strange and weird landscape. I knew that I was

on Mars; not once did I question either my sanity or my wakefulness. I

was not asleep, no need for pinching here; my inner consciousness told

me as plainly that I was upon Mars as your conscious mind tells you

that you are upon Earth. You do not question the fact; neither did I.

I found myself lying prone upon a bed of yellowish, mosslike vegetation

which stretched around me in all directions for interminable miles. I

seemed to be lying in a deep, circular basin, along the outer verge of

which I could distinguish the irregularities of low hills.

It was midday, the sun was shining full upon me and the heat of it was

rather intense upon my naked body, yet no greater than would have been

true under similar conditions on an Arizona desert. Here and there were

slight outcroppings of quartz-bearing rock which glistened in the

sunlight; and a little to my left, perhaps a hundred yards, appeared a

low, walled enclosure about four feet in height. No water, and no other

vegetation than the moss was in evidence, and as I was somewhat thirsty

I determined to do a little exploring.

Springing to my feet I received my first Martian surprise, for the

effort, which on Earth would have brought me standing upright, carried

me into the Martian air to the height of about three yards. I alighted

softly upon the ground, however, without appreciable shock or jar. Now

commenced a series of evolutions which even then seemed ludicrous in

the extreme. I found that I must learn to walk all over again, as the

muscular exertion which carried me easily and safely upon Earth played

strange antics with me upon Mars.

Instead of progressing in a sane and dignified manner, my attempts to

walk resulted in a variety of hops which took me clear of the ground a

couple of feet at each step and landed me sprawling upon my face or

back at the end of each second or third hop. My muscles, perfectly

attuned and accustomed to the force of gravity on Earth, played the

mischief with me in attempting for the first time to cope with the

lesser gravitation and lower air pressure on Mars.

I was determined, however, to explore the low structure which was the

only evidence of habitation in sight, and so I hit upon the unique plan

of reverting to first principles in locomotion, creeping. I did fairly

well at this and in a few moments had reached the low, encircling wall

of the enclosure.

There appeared to be no doors or windows upon the side nearest me, but

as the wall was but about four feet high I cautiously gained my feet

and peered over the top upon the strangest sight it had ever been given

me to see.

The roof of the enclosure was of solid glass about four or five inches

in thickness, and beneath this were several hundred large eggs,

perfectly round and snowy white. The eggs were nearly uniform in size

being about two and one-half feet in diameter.

Five or six had already hatched and the grotesque caricatures which sat

blinking in the sunlight were enough to cause me to doubt my sanity.

They seemed mostly head, with little scrawny bodies, long necks and six

legs, or, as I afterward learned, two legs and two arms, with an

intermediary pair of limbs which could be used at will either as arms

or legs. Their eyes were set at the extreme sides of their heads a

trifle above the center and protruded in such a manner that they could

be directed either forward or back and also independently of each

other, thus permitting this queer animal to look in any direction, or

in two directions at once, without the necessity of turning the head.

The ears, which were slightly above the eyes and closer together, were

small, cup-shaped antennae, protruding not more than an inch on these

young specimens. Their noses were but longitudinal slits in the center

of their faces, midway between their mouths and ears.

There was no hair on their bodies, which were of a very light

yellowish-green color. In the adults, as I was to learn quite soon,

this color deepens to an olive green and is darker in the male than in

the female. Further, the heads of the adults are not so out of

proportion to their bodies as in the case of the young.

The iris of the eyes is blood red, as in Albinos, while the pupil is

dark. The eyeball itself is very white, as are the teeth. These latter

add a most ferocious appearance to an otherwise fearsome and terrible

countenance, as the lower tusks curve upward to sharp points which end

about where the eyes of earthly human beings are located. The whiteness

of the teeth is not that of ivory, but of the snowiest and most

gleaming of china. Against the dark background of their olive skins

their tusks stand out in a most striking manner, making these weapons

present a singularly formidable appearance.

Most of these details I noted later, for I was given but little time to

speculate on the wonders of my new discovery. I had seen that the eggs

were in the process of hatching, and as I stood watching the hideous

little monsters break from their shells I failed to note the approach

of a score of full-grown Martians from behind me.

Coming, as they did, over the soft and soundless moss, which covers

practically the entire surface of Mars with the exception of the frozen

areas at the poles and the scattered cultivated districts, they might

have captured me easily, but their intentions were far more sinister.

It was the rattling of the accouterments of the foremost warrior which

warned me.

On such a little thing my life hung that I often marvel that I escaped

so easily. Had not the rifle of the leader of the party swung from its

fastenings beside his saddle in such a way as to strike against the

butt of his great metal-shod spear I should have snuffed out without

ever knowing that death was near me. But the little sound caused me to

turn, and there upon me, not ten feet from my breast, was the point of

that huge spear, a spear forty feet long, tipped with gleaming metal,

and held low at the side of a mounted replica of the little devils I

had been watching.

But how puny and harmless they now looked beside this huge and terrific

incarnation of hate, of vengeance and of death. The man himself, for

such I may call him, was fully fifteen feet in height and, on Earth,

would have weighed some four hundred pounds. He sat his mount as we sit

a horse, grasping the animal’s barrel with his lower limbs, while the

hands of his two right arms held his immense spear low at the side of

his mount; his two left arms were outstretched laterally to help

preserve his balance, the thing he rode having neither bridle or reins

of any description for guidance.

And his mount! How can earthly words describe it! It towered ten feet

at the shoulder; had four legs on either side; a broad flat tail,

larger at the tip than at the root, and which it held straight out

behind while running; a gaping mouth which split its head from its

snout to its long, massive neck.

Like its master, it was entirely devoid of hair, but was of a dark

slate color and exceeding smooth and glossy. Its belly was white, and

its legs shaded from the slate of its shoulders and hips to a vivid

yellow at the feet. The feet themselves were heavily padded and

nailless, which fact had also contributed to the noiselessness of their

approach, and, in common with a multiplicity of legs, is a

characteristic feature of the fauna of Mars. The highest type of man

and one other animal, the only mammal existing on Mars, alone have

well-formed nails, and there are absolutely no hoofed animals in

existence there.

Behind this first charging demon trailed nineteen others, similar in

all respects, but, as I learned later, bearing individual

characteristics peculiar to themselves; precisely as no two of us are

identical although we are all cast in a similar mold. This picture, or

rather materialized nightmare, which I have described at length, made

but one terrible and swift impression on me as I turned to meet it.

Unarmed and naked as I was, the first law of nature manifested itself

in the only possible solution of my immediate problem, and that was to

get out of the vicinity of the point of the charging spear.

Consequently I gave a very earthly and at the same time superhuman leap

to reach the top of the Martian incubator, for such I had determined it

must be.

My effort was crowned with a success which appalled me no less than it

seemed to surprise the Martian warriors, for it carried me fully thirty

feet into the air and landed me a hundred feet from my pursuers and on

the opposite side of the enclosure.

I alighted upon the soft moss easily and without mishap, and turning

saw my enemies lined up along the further wall. Some were surveying me

with expressions which I afterward discovered marked extreme

astonishment, and the others were evidently satisfying themselves that

I had not molested their young.

They were conversing together in low tones, and gesticulating and

pointing toward me. Their discovery that I had not harmed the little

Martians, and that I was unarmed, must have caused them to look upon me

with less ferocity; but, as I was to learn later, the thing which

weighed most in my favor was my exhibition of hurdling.

While the Martians are immense, their bones are very large and they are

muscled only in proportion to the gravitation which they must overcome.

The result is that they are infinitely less agile and less powerful, in

proportion to their weight, than an Earth man, and I doubt that were

one of them suddenly to be transported to Earth he could lift his own

weight from the ground; in fact, I am convinced that he could not do

so.

My feat then was as marvelous upon Mars as it would have been upon

Earth, and from desiring to annihilate me they suddenly looked upon me

as a wonderful discovery to be captured and exhibited among their

fellows.

The respite my unexpected agility had given me permitted me to

formulate plans for the immediate future and to note more closely the

appearance of the warriors, for I could not disassociate these people

in my mind from those other warriors who, only the day before, had been

pursuing me.

I noted that each was armed with several other weapons in addition to

the huge spear which I have described. The weapon which caused me to

decide against an attempt at escape by flight was what was evidently a

rifle of some description, and which I felt, for some reason, they were

peculiarly efficient in handling.

These rifles were of a white metal stocked with wood, which I learned

later was a very light and intensely hard growth much prized on Mars,

and entirely unknown to us denizens of Earth. The metal of the barrel

is an alloy composed principally of aluminum and steel which they have

learned to temper to a hardness far exceeding that of the steel with

which we are familiar. The weight of these rifles is comparatively

little, and with the small caliber, explosive, radium projectiles which

they use, and the great length of the barrel, they are deadly in the

extreme and at ranges which would be unthinkable on Earth. The

theoretic effective radius of this rifle is three hundred miles, but

the best they can do in actual service when equipped with their

wireless finders and sighters is but a trifle over two hundred miles.

This is quite far enough to imbue me with great respect for the Martian

firearm, and some telepathic force must have warned me against an

attempt to escape in broad daylight from under the muzzles of twenty of

these death-dealing machines.

The Martians, after conversing for a short time, turned and rode away

in the direction from which they had come, leaving one of their number

alone by the enclosure. When they had covered perhaps two hundred yards

they halted, and turning their mounts toward us sat watching the

warrior by the enclosure.

He was the one whose spear had so nearly transfixed me, and was

evidently the leader of the band, as I had noted that they seemed to

have moved to their present position at his direction. When his force

had come to a halt he dismounted, threw down his spear and small arms,

and came around the end of the incubator toward me, entirely unarmed

and as naked as I, except for the ornaments strapped upon his head,

limbs, and breast.

When he was within about fifty feet of me he unclasped an enormous

metal armlet, and holding it toward me in the open palm of his hand,

addressed me in a clear, resonant voice, but in a language, it is

needless to say, I could not understand. He then stopped as though

waiting for my reply, pricking up his antennae-like ears and cocking

his strange-looking eyes still further toward me.

As the silence became painful I concluded to hazard a little

conversation on my own part, as I had guessed that he was making

overtures of peace. The throwing down of his weapons and the

withdrawing of his troop before his advance toward me would have

signified a peaceful mission anywhere on Earth, so why not, then, on

Mars!

Placing my hand over my heart I bowed low to the Martian and explained

to him that while I did not understand his language, his actions spoke

for the peace and friendship that at the present moment were most dear

to my heart. Of course I might have been a babbling brook for all the

intelligence my speech carried to him, but he understood the action

with which I immediately followed my words.

Stretching my hand toward him, I advanced and took the armlet from his

open palm, clasping it about my arm above the elbow; smiled at him and

stood waiting. His wide mouth spread into an answering smile, and

locking one of his intermediary arms in mine we turned and walked back

toward his mount. At the same time he motioned his followers to

advance. They started toward us on a wild run, but were checked by a

signal from him. Evidently he feared that were I to be really

frightened again I might jump entirely out of the landscape.

He exchanged a few words with his men, motioned to me that I would ride

behind one of them, and then mounted his own animal. The fellow

designated reached down two or three hands and lifted me up behind him

on the glossy back of his mount, where I hung on as best I could by the

belts and straps which held the Martian’s weapons and ornaments.

The entire cavalcade then turned and galloped away toward the range of

hills in the distance.

CHAPTER IV

A PRISONER

We had gone perhaps ten miles when the ground began to rise very

rapidly. We were, as I was later to learn, nearing the edge of one of

Mars’ long-dead seas, in the bottom of which my encounter with the

Martians had taken place.

In a short time we gained the foot of the mountains, and after

traversing a narrow gorge came to an open valley, at the far extremity

of which was a low table land upon which I beheld an enormous city.

Toward this we galloped, entering it by what appeared to be a ruined

roadway leading out from the city, but only to the edge of the table

land, where it ended abruptly in a flight of broad steps.

Upon closer observation I saw as we passed them that the buildings were

deserted, and while not greatly decayed had the appearance of not

having been tenanted for years, possibly for ages. Toward the center of

the city was a large plaza, and upon this and in the buildings

immediately surrounding it were camped some nine or ten hundred

creatures of the same breed as my captors, for such I now considered

them despite the suave manner in which I had been trapped.

With the exception of their ornaments all were naked. The women varied

in appearance but little from the men, except that their tusks were

much larger in proportion to their height, in some instances curving

nearly to their high-set ears. Their bodies were smaller and lighter in

color, and their fingers and toes bore the rudiments of nails, which

were entirely lacking among the males. The adult females ranged in

height from ten to twelve feet.

The children were light in color, even lighter than the women, and all

looked precisely alike to me, except that some were taller than others;

older, I presumed.

I saw no signs of extreme age among them, nor is there any appreciable

difference in their appearance from the age of maturity, about forty,

until, at about the age of one thousand years, they go voluntarily upon

their last strange pilgrimage down the river Iss, which leads no living

Martian knows whither and from whose bosom no Martian has ever

returned, or would be allowed to live did he return after once

embarking upon its cold, dark waters.

Only about one Martian in a thousand dies of sickness or disease, and

possibly about twenty take the voluntary pilgrimage. The other nine

hundred and seventy-nine die violent deaths in duels, in hunting, in

aviation and in war; but perhaps by far the greatest death loss comes

during the age of childhood, when vast numbers of the little Martians

fall victims to the great white apes of Mars.

The average life expectancy of a Martian after the age of maturity is

about three hundred years, but would be nearer the one-thousand mark

were it not for the various means leading to violent death. Owing to

the waning resources of the planet it evidently became necessary to

counteract the increasing longevity which their remarkable skill in

therapeutics and surgery produced, and so human life has come to be

considered but lightly on Mars, as is evidenced by their dangerous

sports and the almost continual warfare between the various

communities.

There are other and natural causes tending toward a diminution of

population, but nothing contributes so greatly to this end as the fact

that no male or female Martian is ever voluntarily without a weapon of

destruction.

As we neared the plaza and my presence was discovered we were

immediately surrounded by hundreds of the creatures who seemed anxious

to pluck me from my seat behind my guard. A word from the leader of the

party stilled their clamor, and we proceeded at a trot across the plaza

to the entrance of as magnificent an edifice as mortal eye has rested

upon.

The building was low, but covered an enormous area. It was constructed

of gleaming white marble inlaid with gold and brilliant stones which

sparkled and scintillated in the sunlight. The main entrance was some

hundred feet in width and projected from the building proper to form a

huge canopy above the entrance hall. There was no stairway, but a

gentle incline to the first floor of the building opened into an

enormous chamber encircled by galleries.

On the floor of this chamber, which was dotted with highly carved

wooden desks and chairs, were assembled about forty or fifty male

Martians around the steps of a rostrum. On the platform proper squatted

an enormous warrior heavily loaded with metal ornaments, gay-colored

feathers and beautifully wrought leather trappings ingeniously set with

precious stones. From his shoulders depended a short cape of white fur

lined with brilliant scarlet silk.

What struck me as most remarkable about this assemblage and the hall in

which they were congregated was the fact that the creatures were

entirely out of proportion to the desks, chairs, and other furnishings;

these being of a size adapted to human beings such as I, whereas the

great bulks of the Martians could scarcely have squeezed into the

chairs, nor was there room beneath the desks for their long legs.

Evidently, then, there were other denizens on Mars than the wild and

grotesque creatures into whose hands I had fallen, but the evidences of

extreme antiquity which showed all around me indicated that these

buildings might have belonged to some long-extinct and forgotten race

in the dim antiquity of Mars.

Our party had halted at the entrance to the building, and at a sign

from the leader I had been lowered to the ground. Again locking his arm

in mine, we had proceeded into the audience chamber. There were few

formalities observed in approaching the Martian chieftain. My captor

merely strode up to the rostrum, the others making way for him as he

advanced. The chieftain rose to his feet and uttered the name of my

escort who, in turn, halted and repeated the name of the ruler followed

by his title.

At the time, this ceremony and the words they uttered meant nothing to

me, but later I came to know that this was the customary greeting

between green Martians. Had the men been strangers, and therefore

unable to exchange names, they would have silently exchanged ornaments,

had their missions been peaceful—otherwise they would have exchanged

shots, or have fought out their introduction with some other of their

various weapons.

My captor, whose name was Tars Tarkas, was virtually the vice-chieftain

of the community, and a man of great ability as a statesman and

warrior. He evidently explained briefly the incidents connected with

his expedition, including my capture, and when he had concluded the

chieftain addressed me at some length.

I replied in our good old English tongue merely to convince him that

neither of us could understand the other; but I noticed that when I

smiled slightly on concluding, he did likewise. This fact, and the

similar occurrence during my first talk with Tars Tarkas, convinced me

that we had at least something in common; the ability to smile,

therefore to laugh; denoting a sense of humor. But I was to learn that

the Martian smile is merely perfunctory, and that the Martian laugh is

a thing to cause strong men to blanch in horror.

The ideas of humor among the green men of Mars are widely at variance

with our conceptions of incitants to merriment. The death agonies of a

fellow being are, to these strange creatures, provocative of the

wildest hilarity, while their chief form of commonest amusement is to

inflict death on their prisoners of war in various ingenious and

horrible ways.

The assembled warriors and chieftains examined me closely, feeling my

muscles and the texture of my skin. The principal chieftain then

evidently signified a desire to see me perform, and, motioning me to

follow, he started with Tars Tarkas for the open plaza.

Now, I had made no attempt to walk, since my first signal failure,

except while tightly grasping Tars Tarkas’ arm, and so now I went

skipping and flitting about among the desks and chairs like some

monstrous grasshopper. After bruising myself severely, much to the

amusement of the Martians, I again had recourse to creeping, but this

did not suit them and I was roughly jerked to my feet by a towering

fellow who had laughed most heartily at my misfortunes.

As he banged me down upon my feet his face was bent close to mine and I

did the only thing a gentleman might do under the circumstances of

brutality, boorishness, and lack of consideration for a stranger’s

rights; I swung my fist squarely to his jaw and he went down like a

felled ox. As he sunk to the floor I wheeled around with my back toward

the nearest desk, expecting to be overwhelmed by the vengeance of his

fellows, but determined to give them as good a battle as the unequal

odds would permit before I gave up my life.

My fears were groundless, however, as the other Martians, at first

struck dumb with wonderment, finally broke into wild peals of laughter

and applause. I did not recognize the applause as such, but later, when

I had become acquainted with their customs, I learned that I had won

what they seldom accord, a manifestation of approbation.

The fellow whom I had struck lay where he had fallen, nor did any of

his mates approach him. Tars Tarkas advanced toward me, holding out one

of his arms, and we thus proceeded to the plaza without further mishap.

I did not, of course, know the reason for which we had come to the

open, but I was not long in being enlightened. They first repeated the

word “sak” a number of times, and then Tars Tarkas made several jumps,

repeating the same word before each leap; then, turning to me, he said,

“sak!” I saw what they were after, and gathering myself together I

“sakked” with such marvelous success that I cleared a good hundred and

fifty feet; nor did I, this time, lose my equilibrium, but landed

squarely upon my feet without falling. I then returned by easy jumps of

twenty-five or thirty feet to the little group of warriors.

My exhibition had been witnessed by several hundred lesser Martians,

and they immediately broke into demands for a repetition, which the

chieftain then ordered me to make; but I was both hungry and thirsty,

and determined on the spot that my only method of salvation was to

demand the consideration from these creatures which they evidently

would not voluntarily accord. I therefore ignored the repeated commands

to “sak,” and each time they were made I motioned to my mouth and

rubbed my stomach.

Tars Tarkas and the chief exchanged a few words, and the former,

calling to a young female among the throng, gave her some instructions

and motioned me to accompany her. I grasped her proffered arm and

together we crossed the plaza toward a large building on the far side.

My fair companion was about eight feet tall, having just arrived at

maturity, but not yet to her full height. She was of a light

olive-green color, with a smooth, glossy hide. Her name, as I afterward

learned, was Sola, and she belonged to the retinue of Tars Tarkas. She

conducted me to a spacious chamber in one of the buildings fronting on

the plaza, and which, from the litter of silks and furs upon the floor,

I took to be the sleeping quarters of several of the natives.

The room was well lighted by a number of large windows and was

beautifully decorated with mural paintings and mosaics, but upon all

there seemed to rest that indefinable touch of the finger of antiquity

which convinced me that the architects and builders of these wondrous

creations had nothing in common with the crude half-brutes which now

occupied them.

Sola motioned me to be seated upon a pile of silks near the center of

the room, and, turning, made a peculiar hissing sound, as though

signaling to someone in an adjoining room. In response to her call I

obtained my first sight of a new Martian wonder. It waddled in on its

ten short legs, and squatted down before the girl like an obedient

puppy. The thing was about the size of a Shetland pony, but its head

bore a slight resemblance to that of a frog, except that the jaws were

equipped with three rows of long, sharp tusks.

CHAPTER V

I ELUDE MY WATCH DOG

Sola stared into the brute’s wicked-looking eyes, muttered a word or

two of command, pointed to me, and left the chamber. I could not but

wonder what this ferocious-looking monstrosity might do when left alone

in such close proximity to such a relatively tender morsel of meat; but

my fears were groundless, as the beast, after surveying me intently for

a moment, crossed the room to the only exit which led to the street,

and lay down full length across the threshold.

This was my first experience with a Martian watch dog, but it was

destined not to be my last, for this fellow guarded me carefully during

the time I remained a captive among these green men; twice saving my

life, and never voluntarily being away from me a moment.

While Sola was away I took occasion to examine more minutely the room

in which I found myself captive. The mural painting depicted scenes of

rare and wonderful beauty; mountains, rivers, lake, ocean, meadow,

trees and flowers, winding roadways, sun-kissed gardens—scenes which

might have portrayed earthly views but for the different colorings of

the vegetation. The work had evidently been wrought by a master hand,

so subtle the atmosphere, so perfect the technique; yet nowhere was

there a representation of a living animal, either human or brute, by

which I could guess at the likeness of these other and perhaps extinct

denizens of Mars.

While I was allowing my fancy to run riot in wild conjecture on the

possible explanation of the strange anomalies which I had so far met

with on Mars, Sola returned bearing both food and drink. These she

placed on the floor beside me, and seating herself a short ways off

regarded me intently. The food consisted of about a pound of some solid

substance of the consistency of cheese and almost tasteless, while the

liquid was apparently milk from some animal. It was not unpleasant to

the taste, though slightly acid, and I learned in a short time to prize

it very highly. It came, as I later discovered, not from an animal, as

there is only one mammal on Mars and that one very rare indeed, but

from a large plant which grows practically without water, but seems to

distill its plentiful supply of milk from the products of the soil, the

moisture of the air, and the rays of the sun. A single plant of this

species will give eight or ten quarts of milk per day.

After I had eaten I was greatly invigorated, but feeling the need of

rest I stretched out upon the silks and was soon asleep. I must have

slept several hours, as it was dark when I awoke, and I was very cold.

I noticed that someone had thrown a fur over me, but it had become

partially dislodged and in the darkness I could not see to replace it.

Suddenly a hand reached out and pulled the fur over me, shortly

afterwards adding another to my covering.

I presumed that my watchful guardian was Sola, nor was I wrong. This

girl alone, among all the green Martians with whom I came in contact,

disclosed characteristics of sympathy, kindliness, and affection; her

ministrations to my bodily wants were unfailing, and her solicitous

care saved me from much suffering and many hardships.

As I was to learn, the Martian nights are extremely cold, and as there

is practically no twilight or dawn, the changes in temperature are

sudden and most uncomfortable, as are the transitions from brilliant

daylight to darkness. The nights are either brilliantly illumined or

very dark, for if neither of the two moons of Mars happen to be in the

sky almost total darkness results, since the lack of atmosphere, or,

rather, the very thin atmosphere, fails to diffuse the starlight to any

great extent; on the other hand, if both of the moons are in the

heavens at night the surface of the ground is brightly illuminated.

Both of Mars’ moons are vastly nearer her than is our moon to Earth;

the nearer moon being but about five thousand miles distant, while the

further is but little more than fourteen thousand miles away, against

the nearly one-quarter million miles which separate us from our moon.

The nearer moon of Mars makes a complete revolution around the planet

in a little over seven and one-half hours, so that she may be seen

hurtling through the sky like some huge meteor two or three times each

night, revealing all her phases during each transit of the heavens.

The further moon revolves about Mars in something over thirty and

one-quarter hours, and with her sister satellite makes a nocturnal

Martian scene one of splendid and weird grandeur. And it is well that

nature has so graciously and abundantly lighted the Martian night, for

the green men of Mars, being a nomadic race without high intellectual

development, have but crude means for artificial lighting; depending

principally upon torches, a kind of candle, and a peculiar oil lamp

which generates a gas and burns without a wick.

This last device produces an intensely brilliant far-reaching white

light, but as the natural oil which it requires can only be obtained by

mining in one of several widely separated and remote localities it is

seldom used by these creatures whose only thought is for today, and

whose hatred for manual labor has kept them in a semi-barbaric state

for countless ages.

After Sola had replenished my coverings I again slept, nor did I awaken

until daylight. The other occupants of the room, five in number, were

all females, and they were still sleeping, piled high with a motley

array of silks and furs. Across the threshold lay stretched the

sleepless guardian brute, just as I had last seen him on the preceding

day; apparently he had not moved a muscle; his eyes were fairly glued

upon me, and I fell to wondering just what might befall me should I

endeavor to escape.

I have ever been prone to seek adventure and to investigate and

experiment where wiser men would have left well enough alone. It

therefore now occurred to me that the surest way of learning the exact

attitude of this beast toward me would be to attempt to leave the room.

I felt fairly secure in my belief that I could escape him should he

pursue me once I was outside the building, for I had begun to take

great pride in my ability as a jumper. Furthermore, I could see from

the shortness of his legs that the brute himself was no jumper and

probably no runner.

Slowly and carefully, therefore, I gained my feet, only to see that my

watcher did the same; cautiously I advanced toward him, finding that by

moving with a shuffling gait I could retain my balance as well as make

reasonably rapid progress. As I neared the brute he backed cautiously

away from me, and when I had reached the open he moved to one side to

let me pass. He then fell in behind me and followed about ten paces in

my rear as I made my way along the deserted street.

Evidently his mission was to protect me only, I thought, but when we

reached the edge of the city he suddenly sprang before me, uttering

strange sounds and baring his ugly and ferocious tusks. Thinking to

have some amusement at his expense, I rushed toward him, and when

almost upon him sprang into the air, alighting far beyond him and away

from the city. He wheeled instantly and charged me with the most

appalling speed I had ever beheld. I had thought his short legs a bar

to swiftness, but had he been coursing with greyhounds the latter would

have appeared as though asleep on a door mat. As I was to learn, this

is the fleetest animal on Mars, and owing to its intelligence, loyalty,

and ferocity is used in hunting, in war, and as the protector of the

Martian man.

I quickly saw that I would have difficulty in escaping the fangs of the

beast on a straightaway course, and so I met his charge by doubling in

my tracks and leaping over him as he was almost upon me. This maneuver

gave me a considerable advantage, and I was able to reach the city

quite a bit ahead of him, and as he came tearing after me I jumped for

a window about thirty feet from the ground in the face of one of the

buildings overlooking the valley.

Grasping the sill I pulled myself up to a sitting posture without

looking into the building, and gazed down at the baffled animal beneath

me. My exultation was short-lived, however, for scarcely had I gained a

secure seat upon the sill than a huge hand grasped me by the neck from

behind and dragged me violently into the room. Here I was thrown upon

my back, and beheld standing over me a colossal ape-like creature,

white and hairless except for an enormous shock of bristly hair upon

its head.

CHAPTER VI

A FIGHT THAT WON FRIENDS

The thing, which more nearly resembled our earthly men than it did the

Martians I had seen, held me pinioned to the ground with one huge foot,

while it jabbered and gesticulated at some answering creature behind

me. This other, which was evidently its mate, soon came toward us,

bearing a mighty stone cudgel with which it evidently intended to brain

me.

The creatures were about ten or fifteen feet tall, standing erect, and

had, like the green Martians, an intermediary set of arms or legs,

midway between their upper and lower limbs. Their eyes were close

together and non-protruding; their ears were high set, but more

laterally located than those of the Martians, while their snouts and

teeth were strikingly like those of our African gorilla. Altogether

they were not unlovely when viewed in comparison with the green

Martians.

The cudgel was swinging in the arc which ended upon my upturned face

when a bolt of myriad-legged horror hurled itself through the doorway

full upon the breast of my executioner. With a shriek of fear the ape

which held me leaped through the open window, but its mate closed in a

terrific death struggle with my preserver, which was nothing less than

my faithful watch-thing; I cannot bring myself to call so hideous a

creature a dog.

As quickly as possible I gained my feet and backing against the wall I

witnessed such a battle as it is vouchsafed few beings to see. The

strength, agility, and blind ferocity of these two creatures is

approached by nothing known to earthly man. My beast had an advantage

in his first hold, having sunk his mighty fangs far into the breast of

his adversary; but the great arms and paws of the ape, backed by

muscles far transcending those of the Martian men I had seen, had

locked the throat of my guardian and slowly were choking out his life,

and bending back his head and neck upon his body, where I momentarily

expected the former to fall limp at the end of a broken neck.

In accomplishing this the ape was tearing away the entire front of its

breast, which was held in the vise-like grip of the powerful jaws. Back

and forth upon the floor they rolled, neither one emitting a sound of

fear or pain. Presently I saw the great eyes of my beast bulging

completely from their sockets and blood flowing from its nostrils. That

he was weakening perceptibly was evident, but so also was the ape,

whose struggles were growing momentarily less.

Suddenly I came to myself and, with that strange instinct which seems

ever to prompt me to my duty, I seized the cudgel, which had fallen to

the floor at the commencement of the battle, and swinging it with all

the power of my earthly arms I crashed it full upon the head of the

ape, crushing his skull as though it had been an eggshell.

Scarcely had the blow descended when I was confronted with a new

danger. The ape’s mate, recovered from its first shock of terror, had

returned to the scene of the encounter by way of the interior of the

building. I glimpsed him just before he reached the doorway and the

sight of him, now roaring as he perceived his lifeless fellow stretched

upon the floor, and frothing at the mouth, in the extremity of his

rage, filled me, I must confess, with dire forebodings.

I am ever willing to stand and fight when the odds are not too

overwhelmingly against me, but in this instance I perceived neither

glory nor profit in pitting my relatively puny strength against the

iron muscles and brutal ferocity of this enraged denizen of an unknown

world; in fact, the only outcome of such an encounter, so far as I

might be concerned, seemed sudden death.

I was standing near the window and I knew that once in the street I

might gain the plaza and safety before the creature could overtake me;

at least there was a chance for safety in flight, against almost

certain death should I remain and fight however desperately.

It is true I held the cudgel, but what could I do with it against his

four great arms? Even should I break one of them with my first blow,

for I figured that he would attempt to ward off the cudgel, he could

reach out and annihilate me with the others before I could recover for

a second attack.

In the instant that these thoughts passed through my mind I had turned

to make for the window, but my eyes alighting on the form of my

erstwhile guardian threw all thoughts of flight to the four winds. He

lay gasping upon the floor of the chamber, his great eyes fastened upon

me in what seemed a pitiful appeal for protection. I could not

withstand that look, nor could I, on second thought, have deserted my

rescuer without giving as good an account of myself in his behalf as he

had in mine.

Without more ado, therefore, I turned to meet the charge of the

infuriated bull ape. He was now too close upon me for the cudgel to

prove of any effective assistance, so I merely threw it as heavily as I

could at his advancing bulk. It struck him just below the knees,

eliciting a howl of pain and rage, and so throwing him off his balance

that he lunged full upon me with arms wide stretched to ease his fall.

Again, as on the preceding day, I had recourse to earthly tactics, and

swinging my right fist full upon the point of his chin I followed it

with a smashing left to the pit of his stomach. The effect was

marvelous, for, as I lightly sidestepped, after delivering the second

blow, he reeled and fell upon the floor doubled up with pain and

gasping for wind. Leaping over his prostrate body, I seized the cudgel

and finished the monster before he could regain his feet.

As I delivered the blow a low laugh rang out behind me, and, turning, I

beheld Tars Tarkas, Sola, and three or four warriors standing in the

doorway of the chamber. As my eyes met theirs I was, for the second

time, the recipient of their zealously guarded applause.

My absence had been noted by Sola on her awakening, and she had quickly

informed Tars Tarkas, who had set out immediately with a handful of

warriors to search for me. As they had approached the limits of the

city they had witnessed the actions of the bull ape as he bolted into

the building, frothing with rage.

They had followed immediately behind him, thinking it barely possible

that his actions might prove a clew to my whereabouts and had witnessed

my short but decisive battle with him. This encounter, together with my

set-to with the Martian warrior on the previous day and my feats of

jumping placed me upon a high pinnacle in their regard. Evidently

devoid of all the finer sentiments of friendship, love, or affection,

these people fairly worship physical prowess and bravery, and nothing

is too good for the object of their adoration as long as he maintains

his position by repeated examples of his skill, strength, and courage.

Sola, who had accompanied the searching party of her own volition, was

the only one of the Martians whose face had not been twisted in

laughter as I battled for my life. She, on the contrary, was sober with

apparent solicitude and, as soon as I had finished the monster, rushed

to me and carefully examined my body for possible wounds or injuries.

Satisfying herself that I had come off unscathed she smiled quietly,

and, taking my hand, started toward the door of the chamber.

Tars Tarkas and the other warriors had entered and were standing over

the now rapidly reviving brute which had saved my life, and whose life

I, in turn, had rescued. They seemed to be deep in argument, and

finally one of them addressed me, but remembering my ignorance of his

language turned back to Tars Tarkas, who, with a word and gesture, gave

some command to the fellow and turned to follow us from the room.

There seemed something menacing in their attitude toward my beast, and

I hesitated to leave until I had learned the outcome. It was well I did

so, for the warrior drew an evil looking pistol from its holster and

was on the point of putting an end to the creature when I sprang

forward and struck up his arm. The bullet striking the wooden casing of

the window exploded, blowing a hole completely through the wood and

masonry.

I then knelt down beside the fearsome-looking thing, and raising it to

its feet motioned for it to follow me. The looks of surprise which my

actions elicited from the Martians were ludicrous; they could not

understand, except in a feeble and childish way, such attributes as

gratitude and compassion. The warrior whose gun I had struck up looked

enquiringly at Tars Tarkas, but the latter signed that I be left to my

own devices, and so we returned to the plaza with my great beast

following close at heel, and Sola grasping me tightly by the arm.

I had at least two friends on Mars; a young woman who watched over me

with motherly solicitude, and a dumb brute which, as I later came to

know, held in its poor ugly carcass more love, more loyalty, more

gratitude than could have been found in the entire five million green

Martians who rove the deserted cities and dead sea bottoms of Mars.

CHAPTER VII

CHILD-RAISING ON MARS

After a breakfast, which was an exact replica of the meal of the

preceding day and an index of practically every meal which followed

while I was with the green men of Mars, Sola escorted me to the plaza,

where I found the entire community engaged in watching or helping at

the harnessing of huge mastodonian animals to great three-wheeled

chariots. There were about two hundred and fifty of these vehicles,

each drawn by a single animal, any one of which, from their appearance,

might easily have drawn the entire wagon train when fully loaded.

The chariots themselves were large, commodious, and gorgeously

decorated. In each was seated a female Martian loaded with ornaments of

metal, with jewels and silks and furs, and upon the back of each of the

beasts which drew the chariots was perched a young Martian driver. Like

the animals upon which the warriors were mounted, the heavier draft

animals wore neither bit nor bridle, but were guided entirely by

telepathic means.

This power is wonderfully developed in all Martians, and accounts

largely for the simplicity of their language and the relatively few

spoken words exchanged even in long conversations. It is the universal

language of Mars, through the medium of which the higher and lower

animals of this world of paradoxes are able to communicate to a greater

or less extent, depending upon the intellectual sphere of the species

and the development of the individual.

As the cavalcade took up the line of march in single file, Sola dragged

me into an empty chariot and we proceeded with the procession toward

the point by which I had entered the city the day before. At the head

of the caravan rode some two hundred warriors, five abreast, and a like

number brought up the rear, while twenty-five or thirty outriders

flanked us on either side.

Every one but myself—men, women, and children—were heavily armed, and

at the tail of each chariot trotted a Martian hound, my own beast

following closely behind ours; in fact, the faithful creature never

left me voluntarily during the entire ten years I spent on Mars. Our

way led out across the little valley before the city, through the

hills, and down into the dead sea bottom which I had traversed on my

journey from the incubator to the plaza. The incubator, as it proved,

was the terminal point of our journey this day, and, as the entire

cavalcade broke into a mad gallop as soon as we reached the level

expanse of sea bottom, we were soon within sight of our goal.

On reaching it the chariots were parked with military precision on the

four sides of the enclosure, and half a score of warriors, headed by

the enormous chieftain, and including Tars Tarkas and several other

lesser chiefs, dismounted and advanced toward it. I could see Tars

Tarkas explaining something to the principal chieftain, whose name, by

the way, was, as nearly as I can translate it into English, Lorquas

Ptomel, Jed; jed being his title.

I was soon appraised of the subject of their conversation, as, calling

to Sola, Tars Tarkas signed for her to send me to him. I had by this

time mastered the intricacies of walking under Martian conditions, and

quickly responding to his command I advanced to the side of the

incubator where the warriors stood.

As I reached their side a glance showed me that all but a very few eggs

had hatched, the incubator being fairly alive with the hideous little

devils. They ranged in height from three to four feet, and were moving

restlessly about the enclosure as though searching for food.

As I came to a halt before him, Tars Tarkas pointed over the incubator

and said, “Sak.” I saw that he wanted me to repeat my performance of

yesterday for the edification of Lorquas Ptomel, and, as I must confess

that my prowess gave me no little satisfaction, I responded quickly,

leaping entirely over the parked chariots on the far side of the

incubator. As I returned, Lorquas Ptomel grunted something at me, and

turning to his warriors gave a few words of command relative to the

incubator. They paid no further attention to me and I was thus

permitted to remain close and watch their operations, which consisted

in breaking an opening in the wall of the incubator large enough to

permit of the exit of the young Martians.

On either side of this opening the women and the younger Martians, both

male and female, formed two solid walls leading out through the

chariots and quite away into the plain beyond. Between these walls the

little Martians scampered, wild as deer; being permitted to run the

full length of the aisle, where they were captured one at a time by the

women and older children; the last in the line capturing the first

little one to reach the end of the gauntlet, her opposite in the line

capturing the second, and so on until all the little fellows had left

the enclosure and been appropriated by some youth or female. As the

women caught the young they fell out of line and returned to their

respective chariots, while those who fell into the hands of the young

men were later turned over to some of the women.

I saw that the ceremony, if it could be dignified by such a name, was

over, and seeking out Sola I found her in our chariot with a hideous

little creature held tightly in her arms.

The work of rearing young, green Martians consists solely in teaching

them to talk, and to use the weapons of warfare with which they are

loaded down from the very first year of their lives. Coming from eggs

in which they have lain for five years, the period of incubation, they

step forth into the world perfectly developed except in size. Entirely

unknown to their mothers, who, in turn, would have difficulty in

pointing out the fathers with any degree of accuracy, they are the

common children of the community, and their education devolves upon the

females who chance to capture them as they leave the incubator.

Their foster mothers may not even have had an egg in the incubator, as

was the case with Sola, who had not commenced to lay, until less than a

year before she became the mother of another woman’s offspring. But

this counts for little among the green Martians, as parental and filial

love is as unknown to them as it is common among us. I believe this

horrible system which has been carried on for ages is the direct cause

of the loss of all the finer feelings and higher humanitarian instincts

among these poor creatures. From birth they know no father or mother

love, they know not the meaning of the word home; they are taught that

they are only suffered to live until they can demonstrate by their

physique and ferocity that they are fit to live. Should they prove

deformed or defective in any way they are promptly shot; nor do they

see a tear shed for a single one of the many cruel hardships they pass

through from earliest infancy.

I do not mean that the adult Martians are unnecessarily or

intentionally cruel to the young, but theirs is a hard and pitiless

struggle for existence upon a dying planet, the natural resources of

which have dwindled to a point where the support of each additional

life means an added tax upon the community into which it is thrown.

By careful selection they rear only the hardiest specimens of each

species, and with almost supernatural foresight they regulate the birth

rate to merely offset the loss by death.

Each adult Martian female brings forth about thirteen eggs each year,

and those which meet the size, weight, and specific gravity tests are

hidden in the recesses of some subterranean vault where the temperature

is too low for incubation. Every year these eggs are carefully examined

by a council of twenty chieftains, and all but about one hundred of the

most perfect are destroyed out of each yearly supply. At the end of

five years about five hundred almost perfect eggs have been chosen from

the thousands brought forth. These are then placed in the almost

air-tight incubators to be hatched by the sun’s rays after a period of

another five years. The hatching which we had witnessed today was a

fairly representative event of its kind, all but about one per cent of

the eggs hatching in two days. If the remaining eggs ever hatched we

knew nothing of the fate of the little Martians. They were not wanted,

as their offspring might inherit and transmit the tendency to prolonged

incubation, and thus upset the system which has maintained for ages and

which permits the adult Martians to figure the proper time for return

to the incubators, almost to an hour.

The incubators are built in remote fastnesses, where there is little or

no likelihood of their being discovered by other tribes. The result of

such a catastrophe would mean no children in the community for another

five years. I was later to witness the results of the discovery of an

alien incubator.

The community of which the green Martians with whom my lot was cast

formed a part was composed of some thirty thousand souls. They roamed

an enormous tract of arid and semi-arid land between forty and eighty

degrees south latitude, and bounded on the east and west by two large

fertile tracts. Their headquarters lay in the southwest corner of this

district, near the crossing of two of the so-called Martian canals.

As the incubator had been placed far north of their own territory in a

supposedly uninhabited and unfrequented area, we had before us a

tremendous journey, concerning which I, of course, knew nothing.

After our return to the dead city I passed several days in comparative

idleness. On the day following our return all the warriors had ridden

forth early in the morning and had not returned until just before

darkness fell. As I later learned, they had been to the subterranean

vaults in which the eggs were kept and had transported them to the

incubator, which they had then walled up for another five years, and

which, in all probability, would not be visited again during that

period.

The vaults which hid the eggs until they were ready for the incubator

were located many miles south of the incubator, and would be visited

yearly by the council of twenty chieftains. Why they did not arrange to

build their vaults and incubators nearer home has always been a mystery

to me, and, like many other Martian mysteries, unsolved and unsolvable

by earthly reasoning and customs.

Sola’s duties were now doubled, as she was compelled to care for the

young Martian as well as for me, but neither one of us required much

attention, and as we were both about equally advanced in Martian

education, Sola took it upon herself to train us together.

Her prize consisted in a male about four feet tall, very strong and

physically perfect; also, he learned quickly, and we had considerable

amusement, at least I did, over the keen rivalry we displayed. The

Martian language, as I have said, is extremely simple, and in a week I

could make all my wants known and understand nearly everything that was

said to me. Likewise, under Sola’s tutelage, I developed my telepathic

powers so that I shortly could sense practically everything that went

on around me.

What surprised Sola most in me was that while I could catch telepathic

messages easily from others, and often when they were not intended for

me, no one could read a jot from my mind under any circumstances. At

first this vexed me, but later I was very glad of it, as it gave me an

undoubted advantage over the Martians.

CHAPTER VIII

A FAIR CAPTIVE FROM THE SKY

The third day after the incubator ceremony we set forth toward home,

but scarcely had the head of the procession debouched into the open

ground before the city than orders were given for an immediate and

hasty return. As though trained for years in this particular evolution,

the green Martians melted like mist into the spacious doorways of the

nearby buildings, until, in less than three minutes, the entire

cavalcade of chariots, mastodons and mounted warriors was nowhere to be

seen.

Sola and I had entered a building upon the front of the city, in fact,

the same one in which I had had my encounter with the apes, and,

wishing to see what had caused the sudden retreat, I mounted to an

upper floor and peered from the window out over the valley and the

hills beyond; and there I saw the cause of their sudden scurrying to

cover. A huge craft, long, low, and gray-painted, swung slowly over the

crest of the nearest hill. Following it came another, and another, and

another, until twenty of them, swinging low above the ground, sailed

slowly and majestically toward us.

Each carried a strange banner swung from stem to stern above the upper

works, and upon the prow of each was painted some odd device that

gleamed in the sunlight and showed plainly even at the distance at

which we were from the vessels. I could see figures crowding the

forward decks and upper works of the air craft. Whether they had

discovered us or simply were looking at the deserted city I could not

say, but in any event they received a rude reception, for suddenly and

without warning the green Martian warriors fired a terrific volley from

the windows of the buildings facing the little valley across which the

great ships were so peacefully advancing.

Instantly the scene changed as by magic; the foremost vessel swung

broadside toward us, and bringing her guns into play returned our fire,

at the same time moving parallel to our front for a short distance and

then turning back with the evident intention of completing a great

circle which would bring her up to position once more opposite our

firing line; the other vessels followed in her wake, each one opening

upon us as she swung into position. Our own fire never diminished, and

I doubt if twenty-five per cent of our shots went wild. It had never

been given me to see such deadly accuracy of aim, and it seemed as

though a little figure on one of the craft dropped at the explosion of

each bullet, while the banners and upper works dissolved in spurts of

flame as the irresistible projectiles of our warriors mowed through

them.

The fire from the vessels was most ineffectual, owing, as I afterward

learned, to the unexpected suddenness of the first volley, which caught

the ship’s crews entirely unprepared and the sighting apparatus of the

guns unprotected from the deadly aim of our warriors.

It seems that each green warrior has certain objective points for his

fire under relatively identical circumstances of warfare. For example,

a proportion of them, always the best marksmen, direct their fire

entirely upon the wireless finding and sighting apparatus of the big

guns of an attacking naval force; another detail attends to the smaller

guns in the same way; others pick off the gunners; still others the

officers; while certain other quotas concentrate their attention upon

the other members of the crew, upon the upper works, and upon the

steering gear and propellers.

Twenty minutes after the first volley the great fleet swung trailing

off in the direction from which it had first appeared. Several of the

craft were limping perceptibly, and seemed but barely under the control

of their depleted crews. Their fire had ceased entirely and all their

energies seemed focused upon escape. Our warriors then rushed up to the

roofs of the buildings which we occupied and followed the retreating

armada with a continuous fusillade of deadly fire.

One by one, however, the ships managed to dip below the crests of the

outlying hills until only one barely moving craft was in sight. This

had received the brunt of our fire and seemed to be entirely unmanned,

as not a moving figure was visible upon her decks. Slowly she swung

from her course, circling back toward us in an erratic and pitiful

manner. Instantly the warriors ceased firing, for it was quite apparent

that the vessel was entirely helpless, and, far from being in a

position to inflict harm upon us, she could not even control herself

sufficiently to escape.

As she neared the city the warriors rushed out upon the plain to meet

her, but it was evident that she still was too high for them to hope to

reach her decks. From my vantage point in the window I could see the

bodies of her crew strewn about, although I could not make out what

manner of creatures they might be. Not a sign of life was manifest upon

her as she drifted slowly with the light breeze in a southeasterly

direction.

She was drifting some fifty feet above the ground, followed by all but

some hundred of the warriors who had been ordered back to the roofs to

cover the possibility of a return of the fleet, or of reinforcements.

It soon became evident that she would strike the face of the buildings

about a mile south of our position, and as I watched the progress of

the chase I saw a number of warriors gallop ahead, dismount and enter

the building she seemed destined to touch.

As the craft neared the building, and just before she struck, the

Martian warriors swarmed upon her from the windows, and with their

great spears eased the shock of the collision, and in a few moments

they had thrown out grappling hooks and the big boat was being hauled

to ground by their fellows below.

After making her fast, they swarmed the sides and searched the vessel

from stem to stern. I could see them examining the dead sailors,

evidently for signs of life, and presently a party of them appeared

from below dragging a little figure among them. The creature was

considerably less than half as tall as the green Martian warriors, and

from my balcony I could see that it walked erect upon two legs and

surmised that it was some new and strange Martian monstrosity with

which I had not as yet become acquainted.

They removed their prisoner to the ground and then commenced a

systematic rifling of the vessel. This operation required several

hours, during which time a number of the chariots were requisitioned to

transport the loot, which consisted in arms, ammunition, silks, furs,

jewels, strangely carved stone vessels, and a quantity of solid foods

and liquids, including many casks of water, the first I had seen since

my advent upon Mars.

After the last load had been removed the warriors made lines fast to

the craft and towed her far out into the valley in a southwesterly

direction. A few of them then boarded her and were busily engaged in

what appeared, from my distant position, as the emptying of the

contents of various carboys upon the dead bodies of the sailors and

over the decks and works of the vessel.

This operation concluded, they hastily clambered over her sides,

sliding down the guy ropes to the ground. The last warrior to leave the

deck turned and threw something back upon the vessel, waiting an

instant to note the outcome of his act. As a faint spurt of flame rose

from the point where the missile struck he swung over the side and was

quickly upon the ground. Scarcely had he alighted than the guy ropes

were simultaneously released, and the great warship, lightened by the

removal of the loot, soared majestically into the air, her decks and

upper works a mass of roaring flames.

Slowly she drifted to the southeast, rising higher and higher as the

flames ate away her wooden parts and diminished the weight upon her.

Ascending to the roof of the building I watched her for hours, until

finally she was lost in the dim vistas of the distance. The sight was

awe-inspiring in the extreme as one contemplated this mighty floating

funeral pyre, drifting unguided and unmanned through the lonely wastes

of the Martian heavens; a derelict of death and destruction, typifying

the life story of these strange and ferocious creatures into whose

unfriendly hands fate had carried it.

Much depressed, and, to me, unaccountably so, I slowly descended to the

street. The scene I had witnessed seemed to mark the defeat and

annihilation of the forces of a kindred people, rather than the routing

by our green warriors of a horde of similar, though unfriendly,

creatures. I could not fathom the seeming hallucination, nor could I

free myself from it; but somewhere in the innermost recesses of my soul

I felt a strange yearning toward these unknown foemen, and a mighty

hope surged through me that the fleet would return and demand a

reckoning from the green warriors who had so ruthlessly and wantonly

attacked it.

Close at my heel, in his now accustomed place, followed Woola, the

hound, and as I emerged upon the street Sola rushed up to me as though

I had been the object of some search on her part. The cavalcade was

returning to the plaza, the homeward march having been given up for

that day; nor, in fact, was it recommenced for more than a week, owing

to the fear of a return attack by the air craft.

Lorquas Ptomel was too astute an old warrior to be caught upon the open

plains with a caravan of chariots and children, and so we remained at

the deserted city until the danger seemed passed.

As Sola and I entered the plaza a sight met my eyes which filled my

whole being with a great surge of mingled hope, fear, exultation, and

depression, and yet most dominant was a subtle sense of relief and

happiness; for just as we neared the throng of Martians I caught a

glimpse of the prisoner from the battle craft who was being roughly

dragged into a nearby building by a couple of green Martian females.

And the sight which met my eyes was that of a slender, girlish figure,

similar in every detail to the earthly women of my past life. She did

not see me at first, but just as she was disappearing through the

portal of the building which was to be her prison she turned, and her

eyes met mine. Her face was oval and beautiful in the extreme, her

every feature was finely chiseled and exquisite, her eyes large and

lustrous and her head surmounted by a mass of coal black, waving hair,

caught loosely into a strange yet becoming coiffure. Her skin was of a

light reddish copper color, against which the crimson glow of her

cheeks and the ruby of her beautifully molded lips shone with a

strangely enhancing effect.

She was as destitute of clothes as the green Martians who accompanied

her; indeed, save for her highly wrought ornaments she was entirely

naked, nor could any apparel have enhanced the beauty of her perfect

and symmetrical figure.

As her gaze rested on me her eyes opened wide in astonishment, and she

made a little sign with her free hand; a sign which I did not, of

course, understand. Just a moment we gazed upon each other, and then

the look of hope and renewed courage which had glorified her face as

she discovered me, faded into one of utter dejection, mingled with

loathing and contempt. I realized I had not answered her signal, and

ignorant as I was of Martian customs, I intuitively felt that she had

made an appeal for succor and protection which my unfortunate ignorance

had prevented me from answering. And then she was dragged out of my

sight into the depths of the deserted edifice.

CHAPTER IX

I LEARN THE LANGUAGE

As I came back to myself I glanced at Sola, who had witnessed this

encounter and I was surprised to note a strange expression upon her

usually expressionless countenance. What her thoughts were I did not

know, for as yet I had learned but little of the Martian tongue; enough

only to suffice for my daily needs.

As I reached the doorway of our building a strange surprise awaited me.

A warrior approached bearing the arms, ornaments, and full

accouterments of his kind. These he presented to me with a few

unintelligible words, and a bearing at once respectful and menacing.

Later, Sola, with the aid of several of the other women, remodeled the

trappings to fit my lesser proportions, and after they completed the

work I went about garbed in all the panoply of war.

From then on Sola instructed me in the mysteries of the various

weapons, and with the Martian young I spent several hours each day

practicing upon the plaza. I was not yet proficient with all the

weapons, but my great familiarity with similar earthly weapons made me

an unusually apt pupil, and I progressed in a very satisfactory manner.

The training of myself and the young Martians was conducted solely by

the women, who not only attend to the education of the young in the

arts of individual defense and offense, but are also the artisans who

produce every manufactured article wrought by the green Martians. They

make the powder, the cartridges, the firearms; in fact everything of

value is produced by the females. In time of actual warfare they form a

part of the reserves, and when the necessity arises fight with even

greater intelligence and ferocity than the men.

The men are trained in the higher branches of the art of war; in

strategy and the maneuvering of large bodies of troops. They make the

laws as they are needed; a new law for each emergency. They are

unfettered by precedent in the administration of justice. Customs have

been handed down by ages of repetition, but the punishment for ignoring

a custom is a matter for individual treatment by a jury of the

culprit’s peers, and I may say that justice seldom misses fire, but

seems rather to rule in inverse ratio to the ascendency of law. In one

respect at least the Martians are a happy people; they have no lawyers.

I did not see the prisoner again for several days subsequent to our

first encounter, and then only to catch a fleeting glimpse of her as

she was being conducted to the great audience chamber where I had had

my first meeting with Lorquas Ptomel. I could not but note the

unnecessary harshness and brutality with which her guards treated her;

so different from the almost maternal kindliness which Sola manifested

toward me, and the respectful attitude of the few green Martians who

took the trouble to notice me at all.

I had observed on the two occasions when I had seen her that the

prisoner exchanged words with her guards, and this convinced me that

they spoke, or at least could make themselves understood by a common

language. With this added incentive I nearly drove Sola distracted by

my importunities to hasten on my education and within a few more days I

had mastered the Martian tongue sufficiently well to enable me to carry

on a passable conversation and to fully understand practically all that

I heard.

At this time our sleeping quarters were occupied by three or four

females and a couple of the recently hatched young, beside Sola and her

youthful ward, myself, and Woola the hound. After they had retired for

the night it was customary for the adults to carry on a desultory

conversation for a short time before lapsing into sleep, and now that I

could understand their language I was always a keen listener, although

I never proffered any remarks myself.

On the night following the prisoner’s visit to the audience chamber the

conversation finally fell upon this subject, and I was all ears on the

instant. I had feared to question Sola relative to the beautiful

captive, as I could not but recall the strange expression I had noted

upon her face after my first encounter with the prisoner. That it

denoted jealousy I could not say, and yet, judging all things by

mundane standards as I still did, I felt it safer to affect

indifference in the matter until I learned more surely Sola’s attitude

toward the object of my solicitude.

Sarkoja, one of the older women who shared our domicile, had been

present at the audience as one of the captive’s guards, and it was

toward her the question turned.

“When,” asked one of the women, “will we enjoy the death throes of the

red one? or does Lorquas Ptomel, Jed, intend holding her for ransom?”

“They have decided to carry her with us back to Thark, and exhibit her

last agonies at the great games before Tal Hajus,” replied Sarkoja.

“What will be the manner of her going out?” inquired Sola. “She is very

small and very beautiful; I had hoped that they would hold her for

ransom.”

Sarkoja and the other women grunted angrily at this evidence of

weakness on the part of Sola.

“It is sad, Sola, that you were not born a million years ago,” snapped

Sarkoja, “when all the hollows of the land were filled with water, and

the peoples were as soft as the stuff they sailed upon. In our day we

have progressed to a point where such sentiments mark weakness and

atavism. It will not be well for you to permit Tars Tarkas to learn

that you hold such degenerate sentiments, as I doubt that he would care

to entrust such as you with the grave responsibilities of maternity.”

“I see nothing wrong with my expression of interest in this red woman,”

retorted Sola. “She has never harmed us, nor would she should we have

fallen into her hands. It is only the men of her kind who war upon us,

and I have ever thought that their attitude toward us is but the

reflection of ours toward them. They live at peace with all their

fellows, except when duty calls upon them to make war, while we are at

peace with none; forever warring among our own kind as well as upon the

red men, and even in our own communities the individuals fight amongst

themselves. Oh, it is one continual, awful period of bloodshed from the

time we break the shell until we gladly embrace the bosom of the river

of mystery, the dark and ancient Iss which carries us to an unknown,

but at least no more frightful and terrible existence! Fortunate indeed

is he who meets his end in an early death. Say what you please to Tars

Tarkas, he can mete out no worse fate to me than a continuation of the

horrible existence we are forced to lead in this life.”

This wild outbreak on the part of Sola so greatly surprised and shocked

the other women, that, after a few words of general reprimand, they all

lapsed into silence and were soon asleep. One thing the episode had

accomplished was to assure me of Sola’s friendliness toward the poor

girl, and also to convince me that I had been extremely fortunate in

falling into her hands rather than those of some of the other females.

I knew that she was fond of me, and now that I had discovered that she

hated cruelty and barbarity I was confident that I could depend upon

her to aid me and the girl captive to escape, provided of course that

such a thing was within the range of possibilities.

I did not even know that there were any better conditions to escape to,

but I was more than willing to take my chances among people fashioned

after my own mold rather than to remain longer among the hideous and

bloodthirsty green men of Mars. But where to go, and how, was as much

of a puzzle to me as the age-old search for the spring of eternal life

has been to earthly men since the beginning of time.

I decided that at the first opportunity I would take Sola into my

confidence and openly ask her to aid me, and with this resolution

strong upon me I turned among my silks and furs and slept the dreamless

and refreshing sleep of Mars.

CHAPTER X

CHAMPION AND CHIEF

Early the next morning I was astir. Considerable freedom was allowed

me, as Sola had informed me that so long as I did not attempt to leave

the city I was free to go and come as I pleased. She had warned me,

however, against venturing forth unarmed, as this city, like all other

deserted metropolises of an ancient Martian civilization, was peopled

by the great white apes of my second day’s adventure.

In advising me that I must not leave the boundaries of the city Sola

had explained that Woola would prevent this anyway should I attempt it,

and she warned me most urgently not to arouse his fierce nature by

ignoring his warnings should I venture too close to the forbidden

territory. His nature was such, she said, that he would bring me back

into the city dead or alive should I persist in opposing him;

“preferably dead,” she added.

On this morning I had chosen a new street to explore when suddenly I

found myself at the limits of the city. Before me were low hills

pierced by narrow and inviting ravines. I longed to explore the country

before me, and, like the pioneer stock from which I sprang, to view

what the landscape beyond the encircling hills might disclose from the

summits which shut out my view.

It also occurred to me that this would prove an excellent opportunity

to test the qualities of Woola. I was convinced that the brute loved

me; I had seen more evidences of affection in him than in any other

Martian animal, man or beast, and I was sure that gratitude for the

acts that had twice saved his life would more than outweigh his loyalty

to the duty imposed upon him by cruel and loveless masters.

As I approached the boundary line Woola ran anxiously before me, and

thrust his body against my legs. His expression was pleading rather

than ferocious, nor did he bare his great tusks or utter his fearful

guttural warnings. Denied the friendship and companionship of my kind,

I had developed considerable affection for Woola and Sola, for the

normal earthly man must have some outlet for his natural affections,

and so I decided upon an appeal to a like instinct in this great brute,

sure that I would not be disappointed.

I had never petted nor fondled him, but now I sat upon the ground and

putting my arms around his heavy neck I stroked and coaxed him, talking

in my newly acquired Martian tongue as I would have to my hound at

home, as I would have talked to any other friend among the lower

animals. His response to my manifestation of affection was remarkable

to a degree; he stretched his great mouth to its full width, baring the

entire expanse of his upper rows of tusks and wrinkling his snout until

his great eyes were almost hidden by the folds of flesh. If you have

ever seen a collie smile you may have some idea of Woola’s facial

distortion.

He threw himself upon his back and fairly wallowed at my feet; jumped

up and sprang upon me, rolling me upon the ground by his great weight;

then wriggling and squirming around me like a playful puppy presenting

its back for the petting it craves. I could not resist the

ludicrousness of the spectacle, and holding my sides I rocked back and

forth in the first laughter which had passed my lips in many days; the

first, in fact, since the morning Powell had left camp when his horse,

long unused, had precipitately and unexpectedly bucked him off

headforemost into a pot of frijoles.

My laughter frightened Woola, his antics ceased and he crawled

pitifully toward me, poking his ugly head far into my lap; and then I

remembered what laughter signified on Mars—torture, suffering, death.

Quieting myself, I rubbed the poor old fellow’s head and back, talked

to him for a few minutes, and then in an authoritative tone commanded

him to follow me, and arising started for the hills.

There was no further question of authority between us; Woola was my

devoted slave from that moment hence, and I his only and undisputed

master. My walk to the hills occupied but a few minutes, and I found

nothing of particular interest to reward me. Numerous brilliantly

colored and strangely formed wild flowers dotted the ravines and from

the summit of the first hill I saw still other hills stretching off

toward the north, and rising, one range above another, until lost in

mountains of quite respectable dimensions; though I afterward found

that only a few peaks on all Mars exceed four thousand feet in height;

the suggestion of magnitude was merely relative.

My morning’s walk had been large with importance to me for it had

resulted in a perfect understanding with Woola, upon whom Tars Tarkas

relied for my safe keeping. I now knew that while theoretically a

prisoner I was virtually free, and I hastened to regain the city limits

before the defection of Woola could be discovered by his erstwhile

masters. The adventure decided me never again to leave the limits of my

prescribed stamping grounds until I was ready to venture forth for good

and all, as it would certainly result in a curtailment of my liberties,

as well as the probable death of Woola, were we to be discovered.

On regaining the plaza I had my third glimpse of the captive girl. She

was standing with her guards before the entrance to the audience

chamber, and as I approached she gave me one haughty glance and turned

her back full upon me. The act was so womanly, so earthly womanly, that

though it stung my pride it also warmed my heart with a feeling of

companionship; it was good to know that someone else on Mars beside

myself had human instincts of a civilized order, even though the

manifestation of them was so painful and mortifying.

Had a green Martian woman desired to show dislike or contempt she

would, in all likelihood, have done it with a sword thrust or a

movement of her trigger finger; but as their sentiments are mostly

atrophied it would have required a serious injury to have aroused such

passions in them. Sola, let me add, was an exception; I never saw her

perform a cruel or uncouth act, or fail in uniform kindliness and good

nature. She was indeed, as her fellow Martian had said of her, an

atavism; a dear and precious reversion to a former type of loved and

loving ancestor.

Seeing that the prisoner seemed the center of attraction I halted to

view the proceedings. I had not long to wait for presently Lorquas

Ptomel and his retinue of chieftains approached the building and,

signing the guards to follow with the prisoner entered the audience

chamber. Realizing that I was a somewhat favored character, and also

convinced that the warriors did not know of my proficiency in their

language, as I had plead with Sola to keep this a secret on the grounds

that I did not wish to be forced to talk with the men until I had

perfectly mastered the Martian tongue, I chanced an attempt to enter

the audience chamber and listen to the proceedings.

The council squatted upon the steps of the rostrum, while below them

stood the prisoner and her two guards. I saw that one of the women was

Sarkoja, and thus understood how she had been present at the hearing of

the preceding day, the results of which she had reported to the

occupants of our dormitory last night. Her attitude toward the captive

was most harsh and brutal. When she held her, she sunk her rudimentary

nails into the poor girl’s flesh, or twisted her arm in a most painful

manner. When it was necessary to move from one spot to another she

either jerked her roughly, or pushed her headlong before her. She

seemed to be venting upon this poor defenseless creature all the

hatred, cruelty, ferocity, and spite of her nine hundred years, backed

by unguessable ages of fierce and brutal ancestors.

The other woman was less cruel because she was entirely indifferent; if

the prisoner had been left to her alone, and fortunately she was at

night, she would have received no harsh treatment, nor, by the same

token would she have received any attention at all.

As Lorquas Ptomel raised his eyes to address the prisoner they fell on

me and he turned to Tars Tarkas with a word, and gesture of impatience.

Tars Tarkas made some reply which I could not catch, but which caused

Lorquas Ptomel to smile; after which they paid no further attention to

me.

“What is your name?” asked Lorquas Ptomel, addressing the prisoner.

“Dejah Thoris, daughter of Mors Kajak of Helium.”

“And the nature of your expedition?” he continued.

“It was a purely scientific research party sent out by my father’s

father, the Jeddak of Helium, to rechart the air currents, and to take

atmospheric density tests,” replied the fair prisoner, in a low,

well-modulated voice.

“We were unprepared for battle,” she continued, “as we were on a

peaceful mission, as our banners and the colors of our craft denoted.

The work we were doing was as much in your interests as in ours, for

you know full well that were it not for our labors and the fruits of

our scientific operations there would not be enough air or water on

Mars to support a single human life. For ages we have maintained the

air and water supply at practically the same point without an

appreciable loss, and we have done this in the face of the brutal and

ignorant interference of you green men.

“Why, oh, why will you not learn to live in amity with your fellows.

Must you ever go on down the ages to your final extinction but little

above the plane of the dumb brutes that serve you! A people without

written language, without art, without homes, without love; the victims

of eons of the horrible community idea. Owning everything in common,

even to your women and children, has resulted in your owning nothing in

common. You hate each other as you hate all else except yourselves.

Come back to the ways of our common ancestors, come back to the light

of kindliness and fellowship. The way is open to you, you will find the

hands of the red men stretched out to aid you. Together we may do still

more to regenerate our dying planet. The granddaughter of the greatest

and mightiest of the red jeddaks has asked you. Will you come?”

Lorquas Ptomel and the warriors sat looking silently and intently at

the young woman for several moments after she had ceased speaking. What

was passing in their minds no man may know, but that they were moved I

truly believe, and if one man high among them had been strong enough to

rise above custom, that moment would have marked a new and mighty era

for Mars.

I saw Tars Tarkas rise to speak, and on his face was such an expression

as I had never seen upon the countenance of a green Martian warrior. It

bespoke an inward and mighty battle with self, with heredity, with

age-old custom, and as he opened his mouth to speak, a look almost of

benignity, of kindliness, momentarily lighted up his fierce and

terrible countenance.

What words of moment were to have fallen from his lips were never

spoken, as just then a young warrior, evidently sensing the trend of

thought among the older men, leaped down from the steps of the rostrum,

and striking the frail captive a powerful blow across the face, which

felled her to the floor, placed his foot upon her prostrate form and

turning toward the assembled council broke into peals of horrid,

mirthless laughter.

For an instant I thought Tars Tarkas would strike him dead, nor did the

aspect of Lorquas Ptomel augur any too favorably for the brute, but the

mood passed, their old selves reasserted their ascendency, and they

smiled. It was portentous however that they did not laugh aloud, for

the brute’s act constituted a side-splitting witticism according to the

ethics which rule green Martian humor.

That I have taken moments to write down a part of what occurred as that

blow fell does not signify that I remained inactive for any such length

of time. I think I must have sensed something of what was coming, for I

realize now that I was crouched as for a spring as I saw the blow aimed

at her beautiful, upturned, pleading face, and ere the hand descended I

was halfway across the hall.

Scarcely had his hideous laugh rang out but once, when I was upon him.

The brute was twelve feet in height and armed to the teeth, but I

believe that I could have accounted for the whole roomful in the

terrific intensity of my rage. Springing upward, I struck him full in

the face as he turned at my warning cry and then as he drew his

short-sword I drew mine and sprang up again upon his breast, hooking

one leg over the butt of his pistol and grasping one of his huge tusks

with my left hand while I delivered blow after blow upon his enormous

chest.

He could not use his short-sword to advantage because I was too close

to him, nor could he draw his pistol, which he attempted to do in

direct opposition to Martian custom which says that you may not fight a

fellow warrior in private combat with any other than the weapon with

which you are attacked. In fact he could do nothing but make a wild and

futile attempt to dislodge me. With all his immense bulk he was little

if any stronger than I, and it was but the matter of a moment or two

before he sank, bleeding and lifeless, to the floor.

Dejah Thoris had raised herself upon one elbow and was watching the

battle with wide, staring eyes. When I had regained my feet I raised

her in my arms and bore her to one of the benches at the side of the

room.

Again no Martian interfered with me, and tearing a piece of silk from

my cape I endeavored to staunch the flow of blood from her nostrils. I

was soon successful as her injuries amounted to little more than an

ordinary nosebleed, and when she could speak she placed her hand upon

my arm and looking up into my eyes, said:

“Why did you do it? You who refused me even friendly recognition in the

first hour of my peril! And now you risk your life and kill one of your

companions for my sake. I cannot understand. What strange manner of man

are you, that you consort with the green men, though your form is that

of my race, while your color is little darker than that of the white

ape? Tell me, are you human, or are you more than human?”

“It is a strange tale,” I replied, “too long to attempt to tell you

now, and one which I so much doubt the credibility of myself that I

fear to hope that others will believe it. Suffice it, for the present,

that I am your friend, and, so far as our captors will permit, your

protector and your servant.”

“Then you too are a prisoner? But why, then, those arms and the regalia

of a Tharkian chieftain? What is your name? Where your country?”

“Yes, Dejah Thoris, I too am a prisoner; my name is John Carter, and I

claim Virginia, one of the United States of America, Earth, as my home;

but why I am permitted to wear arms I do not know, nor was I aware that

my regalia was that of a chieftain.”

We were interrupted at this juncture by the approach of one of the

warriors, bearing arms, accoutrements and ornaments, and in a flash one

of her questions was answered and a puzzle cleared up for me. I saw

that the body of my dead antagonist had been stripped, and I read in

the menacing yet respectful attitude of the warrior who had brought me

these trophies of the kill the same demeanor as that evinced by the

other who had brought me my original equipment, and now for the first

time I realized that my blow, on the occasion of my first battle in the

audience chamber had resulted in the death of my adversary.

The reason for the whole attitude displayed toward me was now apparent;

I had won my spurs, so to speak, and in the crude justice, which always

marks Martian dealings, and which, among other things, has caused me to

call her the planet of paradoxes, I was accorded the honors due a

conqueror; the trappings and the position of the man I killed. In

truth, I was a Martian chieftain, and this I learned later was the

cause of my great freedom and my toleration in the audience chamber.

As I had turned to receive the dead warrior’s chattels I had noticed

that Tars Tarkas and several others had pushed forward toward us, and

the eyes of the former rested upon me in a most quizzical manner.

Finally he addressed me:

“You speak the tongue of Barsoom quite readily for one who was deaf and

dumb to us a few short days ago. Where did you learn it, John Carter?”

“You, yourself, are responsible, Tars Tarkas,” I replied, “in that you

furnished me with an instructress of remarkable ability; I have to

thank Sola for my learning.”

“She has done well,” he answered, “but your education in other respects

needs considerable polish. Do you know what your unprecedented temerity

would have cost you had you failed to kill either of the two chieftains

whose metal you now wear?”

“I presume that that one whom I had failed to kill, would have killed

me,” I answered, smiling.

“No, you are wrong. Only in the last extremity of self-defense would a

Martian warrior kill a prisoner; we like to save them for other

purposes,” and his face bespoke possibilities that were not pleasant to

dwell upon.

“But one thing can save you now,” he continued. “Should you, in

recognition of your remarkable valor, ferocity, and prowess, be

considered by Tal Hajus as worthy of his service you may be taken into

the community and become a full-fledged Tharkian. Until we reach the

headquarters of Tal Hajus it is the will of Lorquas Ptomel that you be

accorded the respect your acts have earned you. You will be treated by

us as a Tharkian chieftain, but you must not forget that every chief

who ranks you is responsible for your safe delivery to our mighty and

most ferocious ruler. I am done.”

“I hear you, Tars Tarkas,” I answered. “As you know I am not of

Barsoom; your ways are not my ways, and I can only act in the future as

I have in the past, in accordance with the dictates of my conscience

and guided by the standards of mine own people. If you will leave me

alone I will go in peace, but if not, let the individual Barsoomians

with whom I must deal either respect my rights as a stranger among you,

or take whatever consequences may befall. Of one thing let us be sure,

whatever may be your ultimate intentions toward this unfortunate young

woman, whoever would offer her injury or insult in the future must

figure on making a full accounting to me. I understand that you

belittle all sentiments of generosity and kindliness, but I do not, and

I can convince your most doughty warrior that these characteristics are

not incompatible with an ability to fight.”

Ordinarily I am not given to long speeches, nor ever before had I

descended to bombast, but I had guessed at the keynote which would

strike an answering chord in the breasts of the green Martians, nor was

I wrong, for my harangue evidently deeply impressed them, and their

attitude toward me thereafter was still further respectful.

Tars Tarkas himself seemed pleased with my reply, but his only comment

was more or less enigmatical—“And I think I know Tal Hajus, Jeddak of

Thark.”

I now turned my attention to Dejah Thoris, and assisting her to her

feet I turned with her toward the exit, ignoring her hovering guardian

harpies as well as the inquiring glances of the chieftains. Was I not

now a chieftain also! Well, then, I would assume the responsibilities

of one. They did not molest us, and so Dejah Thoris, Princess of

Helium, and John Carter, gentleman of Virginia, followed by the

faithful Woola, passed through utter silence from the audience chamber

of Lorquas Ptomel, Jed among the Tharks of Barsoom.

CHAPTER XI

WITH DEJAH THORIS

As we reached the open the two female guards who had been detailed to

watch over Dejah Thoris hurried up and made as though to assume custody

of her once more. The poor child shrank against me and I felt her two

little hands fold tightly over my arm. Waving the women away, I

informed them that Sola would attend the captive hereafter, and I

further warned Sarkoja that any more of her cruel attentions bestowed

upon Dejah Thoris would result in Sarkoja’s sudden and painful demise.

My threat was unfortunate and resulted in more harm than good to Dejah

Thoris, for, as I learned later, men do not kill women upon Mars, nor

women, men. So Sarkoja merely gave us an ugly look and departed to

hatch up deviltries against us.

I soon found Sola and explained to her that I wished her to guard Dejah

Thoris as she had guarded me; that I wished her to find other quarters

where they would not be molested by Sarkoja, and I finally informed her

that I myself would take up my quarters among the men.

Sola glanced at the accouterments which were carried in my hand and

slung across my shoulder.

“You are a great chieftain now, John Carter,” she said, “and I must do

your bidding, though indeed I am glad to do it under any circumstances.

The man whose metal you carry was young, but he was a great warrior,

and had by his promotions and kills won his way close to the rank of

Tars Tarkas, who, as you know, is second to Lorquas Ptomel only. You

are eleventh, there are but ten chieftains in this community who rank

you in prowess.”

“And if I should kill Lorquas Ptomel?” I asked.

“You would be first, John Carter; but you may only win that honor by

the will of the entire council that Lorquas Ptomel meet you in combat,

or should he attack you, you may kill him in self-defense, and thus win

first place.”

I laughed, and changed the subject. I had no particular desire to kill

Lorquas Ptomel, and less to be a jed among the Tharks.

I accompanied Sola and Dejah Thoris in a search for new quarters, which

we found in a building nearer the audience chamber and of far more

pretentious architecture than our former habitation. We also found in

this building real sleeping apartments with ancient beds of highly

wrought metal swinging from enormous gold chains depending from the

marble ceilings. The decoration of the walls was most elaborate, and,

unlike the frescoes in the other buildings I had examined, portrayed

many human figures in the compositions. These were of people like

myself, and of a much lighter color than Dejah Thoris. They were clad

in graceful, flowing robes, highly ornamented with metal and jewels,

and their luxuriant hair was of a beautiful golden and reddish bronze.

The men were beardless and only a few wore arms. The scenes depicted

for the most part, a fair-skinned, fair-haired people at play.

Dejah Thoris clasped her hands with an exclamation of rapture as she

gazed upon these magnificent works of art, wrought by a people long

extinct; while Sola, on the other hand, apparently did not see them.

We decided to use this room, on the second floor and overlooking the

plaza, for Dejah Thoris and Sola, and another room adjoining and in the

rear for the cooking and supplies. I then dispatched Sola to bring the

bedding and such food and utensils as she might need, telling her that

I would guard Dejah Thoris until her return.

As Sola departed Dejah Thoris turned to me with a faint smile.

“And whereto, then, would your prisoner escape should you leave her,

unless it was to follow you and crave your protection, and ask your

pardon for the cruel thoughts she has harbored against you these past

few days?”

“You are right,” I answered, “there is no escape for either of us

unless we go together.”

“I heard your challenge to the creature you call Tars Tarkas, and I

think I understand your position among these people, but what I cannot

fathom is your statement that you are not of Barsoom.”

“In the name of my first ancestor, then,” she continued, “where may you

be from? You are like unto my people, and yet so unlike. You speak my

language, and yet I heard you tell Tars Tarkas that you had but learned

it recently. All Barsoomians speak the same tongue from the ice-clad

south to the ice-clad north, though their written languages differ.

Only in the valley Dor, where the river Iss empties into the lost sea

of Korus, is there supposed to be a different language spoken, and,

except in the legends of our ancestors, there is no record of a

Barsoomian returning up the river Iss, from the shores of Korus in the

valley of Dor. Do not tell me that you have thus returned! They would

kill you horribly anywhere upon the surface of Barsoom if that were

true; tell me it is not!”

Her eyes were filled with a strange, weird light; her voice was

pleading, and her little hands, reached up upon my breast, were pressed

against me as though to wring a denial from my very heart.

“I do not know your customs, Dejah Thoris, but in my own Virginia a

gentleman does not lie to save himself; I am not of Dor; I have never

seen the mysterious Iss; the lost sea of Korus is still lost, so far as

I am concerned. Do you believe me?”

And then it struck me suddenly that I was very anxious that she should

believe me. It was not that I feared the results which would follow a

general belief that I had returned from the Barsoomian heaven or hell,

or whatever it was. Why was it, then! Why should I care what she

thought? I looked down at her; her beautiful face upturned, and her

wonderful eyes opening up the very depth of her soul; and as my eyes

met hers I knew why, and—I shuddered.

A similar wave of feeling seemed to stir her; she drew away from me

with a sigh, and with her earnest, beautiful face turned up to mine,

she whispered: “I believe you, John Carter; I do not know what a

‘gentleman’ is, nor have I ever heard before of Virginia; but on

Barsoom no man lies; if he does not wish to speak the truth he is

silent. Where is this Virginia, your country, John Carter?” she asked,

and it seemed that this fair name of my fair land had never sounded

more beautiful than as it fell from those perfect lips on that far-gone

day.

“I am of another world,” I answered, “the great planet Earth, which

revolves about our common sun and next within the orbit of your

Barsoom, which we know as Mars. How I came here I cannot tell you, for

I do not know; but here I am, and since my presence has permitted me to

serve Dejah Thoris I am glad that I am here.”

She gazed at me with troubled eyes, long and questioningly. That it was

difficult to believe my statement I well knew, nor could I hope that

she would do so however much I craved her confidence and respect. I

would much rather not have told her anything of my antecedents, but no

man could look into the depth of those eyes and refuse her slightest

behest.

Finally she smiled, and, rising, said: “I shall have to believe even

though I cannot understand. I can readily perceive that you are not of

the Barsoom of today; you are like us, yet different—but why should I

trouble my poor head with such a problem, when my heart tells me that I

believe because I wish to believe!”

It was good logic, good, earthly, feminine logic, and if it satisfied

her I certainly could pick no flaws in it. As a matter of fact it was

about the only kind of logic that could be brought to bear upon my

problem. We fell into a general conversation then, asking and answering

many questions on each side. She was curious to learn of the customs of

my people and displayed a remarkable knowledge of events on Earth. When

I questioned her closely on this seeming familiarity with earthly

things she laughed, and cried out:

“Why, every school boy on Barsoom knows the geography, and much

concerning the fauna and flora, as well as the history of your planet

fully as well as of his own. Can we not see everything which takes

place upon Earth, as you call it; is it not hanging there in the

heavens in plain sight?”

This baffled me, I must confess, fully as much as my statements had

confounded her; and I told her so. She then explained in general the

instruments her people had used and been perfecting for ages, which

permit them to throw upon a screen a perfect image of what is

transpiring upon any planet and upon many of the stars. These pictures

are so perfect in detail that, when photographed and enlarged, objects

no greater than a blade of grass may be distinctly recognized. I

afterward, in Helium, saw many of these pictures, as well as the

instruments which produced them.

“If, then, you are so familiar with earthly things,” I asked, “why is

it that you do not recognize me as identical with the inhabitants of

that planet?”

She smiled again as one might in bored indulgence of a questioning

child.

“Because, John Carter,” she replied, “nearly every planet and star

having atmospheric conditions at all approaching those of Barsoom,

shows forms of animal life almost identical with you and me; and,

further, Earth men, almost without exception, cover their bodies with

strange, unsightly pieces of cloth, and their heads with hideous

contraptions the purpose of which we have been unable to conceive;

while you, when found by the Tharkian warriors, were entirely

undisfigured and unadorned.

“The fact that you wore no ornaments is a strong proof of your

un-Barsoomian origin, while the absence of grotesque coverings might

cause a doubt as to your earthliness.”

I then narrated the details of my departure from the Earth, explaining

that my body there lay fully clothed in all the, to her, strange

garments of mundane dwellers. At this point Sola returned with our

meager belongings and her young Martian protege, who, of course, would

have to share the quarters with them.

Sola asked us if we had had a visitor during her absence, and seemed

much surprised when we answered in the negative. It seemed that as she

had mounted the approach to the upper floors where our quarters were

located, she had met Sarkoja descending. We decided that she must have

been eavesdropping, but as we could recall nothing of importance that

had passed between us we dismissed the matter as of little consequence,

merely promising ourselves to be warned to the utmost caution in the

future.

Dejah Thoris and I then fell to examining the architecture and

decorations of the beautiful chambers of the building we were

occupying. She told me that these people had presumably flourished over

a hundred thousand years before. They were the early progenitors of her

race, but had mixed with the other great race of early Martians, who

were very dark, almost black, and also with the reddish yellow race

which had flourished at the same time.

These three great divisions of the higher Martians had been forced into

a mighty alliance as the drying up of the Martian seas had compelled

them to seek the comparatively few and always diminishing fertile

areas, and to defend themselves, under new conditions of life, against

the wild hordes of green men.

Ages of close relationship and intermarrying had resulted in the race

of red men, of which Dejah Thoris was a fair and beautiful daughter.

During the ages of hardships and incessant warring between their own

various races, as well as with the green men, and before they had

fitted themselves to the changed conditions, much of the high

civilization and many of the arts of the fair-haired Martians had

become lost; but the red race of today has reached a point where it

feels that it has made up in new discoveries and in a more practical

civilization for all that lies irretrievably buried with the ancient

Barsoomians, beneath the countless intervening ages.

These ancient Martians had been a highly cultivated and literary race,

but during the vicissitudes of those trying centuries of readjustment

to new conditions, not only did their advancement and production cease

entirely, but practically all their archives, records, and literature

were lost.

Dejah Thoris related many interesting facts and legends concerning this

lost race of noble and kindly people. She said that the city in which

we were camping was supposed to have been a center of commerce and

culture known as Korad. It had been built upon a beautiful, natural

harbor, landlocked by magnificent hills. The little valley on the west

front of the city, she explained, was all that remained of the harbor,

while the pass through the hills to the old sea bottom had been the

channel through which the shipping passed up to the city’s gates.

The shores of the ancient seas were dotted with just such cities, and

lesser ones, in diminishing numbers, were to be found converging toward

the center of the oceans, as the people had found it necessary to

follow the receding waters until necessity had forced upon them their

ultimate salvation, the so-called Martian canals.

We had been so engrossed in exploration of the building and in our

conversation that it was late in the afternoon before we realized it.

We were brought back to a realization of our present conditions by a

messenger bearing a summons from Lorquas Ptomel directing me to appear

before him forthwith. Bidding Dejah Thoris and Sola farewell, and

commanding Woola to remain on guard, I hastened to the audience

chamber, where I found Lorquas Ptomel and Tars Tarkas seated upon the

rostrum.

CHAPTER XII

A PRISONER WITH POWER

As I entered and saluted, Lorquas Ptomel signaled me to advance, and,

fixing his great, hideous eyes upon me, addressed me thus:

“You have been with us a few days, yet during that time you have by

your prowess won a high position among us. Be that as it may, you are

not one of us; you owe us no allegiance.

“Your position is a peculiar one,” he continued; “you are a prisoner

and yet you give commands which must be obeyed; you are an alien and

yet you are a Tharkian chieftain; you are a midget and yet you can kill

a mighty warrior with one blow of your fist. And now you are reported

to have been plotting to escape with another prisoner of another race;

a prisoner who, from her own admission, half believes you are returned

from the valley of Dor. Either one of these accusations, if proved,

would be sufficient grounds for your execution, but we are a just

people and you shall have a trial on our return to Thark, if Tal Hajus

so commands.

“But,” he continued, in his fierce guttural tones, “if you run off with

the red girl it is I who shall have to account to Tal Hajus; it is I

who shall have to face Tars Tarkas, and either demonstrate my right to

command, or the metal from my dead carcass will go to a better man, for

such is the custom of the Tharks.

“I have no quarrel with Tars Tarkas; together we rule supreme the

greatest of the lesser communities among the green men; we do not wish

to fight between ourselves; and so if you were dead, John Carter, I

should be glad. Under two conditions only, however, may you be killed

by us without orders from Tal Hajus; in personal combat in

self-defense, should you attack one of us, or were you apprehended in

an attempt to escape.

“As a matter of justice I must warn you that we only await one of these

two excuses for ridding ourselves of so great a responsibility. The

safe delivery of the red girl to Tal Hajus is of the greatest

importance. Not in a thousand years have the Tharks made such a

capture; she is the granddaughter of the greatest of the red jeddaks,

who is also our bitterest enemy. I have spoken. The red girl told us

that we were without the softer sentiments of humanity, but we are a

just and truthful race. You may go.”

Turning, I left the audience chamber. So this was the beginning of

Sarkoja’s persecution! I knew that none other could be responsible for

this report which had reached the ears of Lorquas Ptomel so quickly,

and now I recalled those portions of our conversation which had touched

upon escape and upon my origin.

Sarkoja was at this time Tars Tarkas’ oldest and most trusted female.

As such she was a mighty power behind the throne, for no warrior had

the confidence of Lorquas Ptomel to such an extent as did his ablest

lieutenant, Tars Tarkas.

However, instead of putting thoughts of possible escape from my mind,

my audience with Lorquas Ptomel only served to center my every faculty

on this subject. Now, more than before, the absolute necessity for

escape, in so far as Dejah Thoris was concerned, was impressed upon me,

for I was convinced that some horrible fate awaited her at the

headquarters of Tal Hajus.

As described by Sola, this monster was the exaggerated personification

of all the ages of cruelty, ferocity, and brutality from which he had

descended. Cold, cunning, calculating; he was, also, in marked contrast

to most of his fellows, a slave to that brute passion which the waning

demands for procreation upon their dying planet has almost stilled in

the Martian breast.

The thought that the divine Dejah Thoris might fall into the clutches

of such an abysmal atavism started the cold sweat upon me. Far better

that we save friendly bullets for ourselves at the last moment, as did

those brave frontier women of my lost land, who took their own lives

rather than fall into the hands of the Indian braves.

As I wandered about the plaza lost in my gloomy forebodings Tars Tarkas

approached me on his way from the audience chamber. His demeanor toward

me was unchanged, and he greeted me as though we had not just parted a

few moments before.

“Where are your quarters, John Carter?” he asked.

“I have selected none,” I replied. “It seemed best that I quartered

either by myself or among the other warriors, and I was awaiting an

opportunity to ask your advice. As you know,” and I smiled, “I am not

yet familiar with all the customs of the Tharks.”

“Come with me,” he directed, and together we moved off across the plaza

to a building which I was glad to see adjoined that occupied by Sola

and her charges.

“My quarters are on the first floor of this building,” he said, “and

the second floor also is fully occupied by warriors, but the third

floor and the floors above are vacant; you may take your choice of

these.

“I understand,” he continued, “that you have given up your woman to the

red prisoner. Well, as you have said, your ways are not our ways, but

you can fight well enough to do about as you please, and so, if you

wish to give your woman to a captive, it is your own affair; but as a

chieftain you should have those to serve you, and in accordance with

our customs you may select any or all the females from the retinues of

the chieftains whose metal you now wear.”

I thanked him, but assured him that I could get along very nicely

without assistance except in the matter of preparing food, and so he

promised to send women to me for this purpose and also for the care of

my arms and the manufacture of my ammunition, which he said would be

necessary. I suggested that they might also bring some of the sleeping

silks and furs which belonged to me as spoils of combat, for the nights

were cold and I had none of my own.

He promised to do so, and departed. Left alone, I ascended the winding

corridor to the upper floors in search of suitable quarters. The

beauties of the other buildings were repeated in this, and, as usual, I

was soon lost in a tour of investigation and discovery.

I finally chose a front room on the third floor, because this brought

me nearer to Dejah Thoris, whose apartment was on the second floor of

the adjoining building, and it flashed upon me that I could rig up some

means of communication whereby she might signal me in case she needed

either my services or my protection.

Adjoining my sleeping apartment were baths, dressing rooms, and other

sleeping and living apartments, in all some ten rooms on this floor.

The windows of the back rooms overlooked an enormous court, which

formed the center of the square made by the buildings which faced the

four contiguous streets, and which was now given over to the quartering

of the various animals belonging to the warriors occupying the

adjoining buildings.

While the court was entirely overgrown with the yellow, moss-like

vegetation which blankets practically the entire surface of Mars, yet

numerous fountains, statuary, benches, and pergola-like contraptions

bore witness to the beauty which the court must have presented in

bygone times, when graced by the fair-haired, laughing people whom

stern and unalterable cosmic laws had driven not only from their homes,

but from all except the vague legends of their descendants.

One could easily picture the gorgeous foliage of the luxuriant Martian

vegetation which once filled this scene with life and color; the

graceful figures of the beautiful women, the straight and handsome men;

the happy frolicking children—all sunlight, happiness and peace. It was

difficult to realize that they had gone; down through ages of darkness,

cruelty, and ignorance, until their hereditary instincts of culture and

humanitarianism had risen ascendant once more in the final composite

race which now is dominant upon Mars.

My thoughts were cut short by the advent of several young females

bearing loads of weapons, silks, furs, jewels, cooking utensils, and

casks of food and drink, including considerable loot from the air

craft. All this, it seemed, had been the property of the two chieftains

I had slain, and now, by the customs of the Tharks, it had become mine.

At my direction they placed the stuff in one of the back rooms, and

then departed, only to return with a second load, which they advised me

constituted the balance of my goods. On the second trip they were

accompanied by ten or fifteen other women and youths, who, it seemed,

formed the retinues of the two chieftains.

They were not their families, nor their wives, nor their servants; the

relationship was peculiar, and so unlike anything known to us that it

is most difficult to describe. All property among the green Martians is

owned in common by the community, except the personal weapons,

ornaments and sleeping silks and furs of the individuals. These alone

can one claim undisputed right to, nor may he accumulate more of these

than are required for his actual needs. The surplus he holds merely as

custodian, and it is passed on to the younger members of the community

as necessity demands.

The women and children of a man’s retinue may be likened to a military

unit for which he is responsible in various ways, as in matters of

instruction, discipline, sustenance, and the exigencies of their

continual roamings and their unending strife with other communities and

with the red Martians. His women are in no sense wives. The green

Martians use no word corresponding in meaning with this earthly word.

Their mating is a matter of community interest solely, and is directed

without reference to natural selection. The council of chieftains of

each community control the matter as surely as the owner of a Kentucky

racing stud directs the scientific breeding of his stock for the

improvement of the whole.

In theory it may sound well, as is often the case with theories, but

the results of ages of this unnatural practice, coupled with the

community interest in the offspring being held paramount to that of the

mother, is shown in the cold, cruel creatures, and their gloomy,

loveless, mirthless existence.

It is true that the green Martians are absolutely virtuous, both men

and women, with the exception of such degenerates as Tal Hajus; but

better far a finer balance of human characteristics even at the expense

of a slight and occasional loss of chastity.

Finding that I must assume responsibility for these creatures, whether

I would or not, I made the best of it and directed them to find

quarters on the upper floors, leaving the third floor to me. One of the

girls I charged with the duties of my simple cuisine, and directed the

others to take up the various activities which had formerly constituted

their vocations. Thereafter I saw little of them, nor did I care to.

CHAPTER XIII

LOVE-MAKING ON MARS

Following the battle with the air ships, the community remained within

the city for several days, abandoning the homeward march until they

could feel reasonably assured that the ships would not return; for to

be caught on the open plains with a cavalcade of chariots and children

was far from the desire of even so warlike a people as the green

Martians.

During our period of inactivity, Tars Tarkas had instructed me in many

of the customs and arts of war familiar to the Tharks, including

lessons in riding and guiding the great beasts which bore the warriors.

These creatures, which are known as thoats, are as dangerous and

vicious as their masters, but when once subdued are sufficiently

tractable for the purposes of the green Martians.

Two of these animals had fallen to me from the warriors whose metal I

wore, and in a short time I could handle them quite as well as the

native warriors. The method was not at all complicated. If the thoats

did not respond with sufficient celerity to the telepathic instructions

of their riders they were dealt a terrific blow between the ears with

the butt of a pistol, and if they showed fight this treatment was

continued until the brutes either were subdued, or had unseated their

riders.

In the latter case it became a life and death struggle between the man

and the beast. If the former were quick enough with his pistol he might

live to ride again, though upon some other beast; if not, his torn and

mangled body was gathered up by his women and burned in accordance with

Tharkian custom.

My experience with Woola determined me to attempt the experiment of

kindness in my treatment of my thoats. First I taught them that they

could not unseat me, and even rapped them sharply between the ears to

impress upon them my authority and mastery. Then, by degrees, I won

their confidence in much the same manner as I had adopted countless

times with my many mundane mounts. I was ever a good hand with animals,

and by inclination, as well as because it brought more lasting and

satisfactory results, I was always kind and humane in my dealings with

the lower orders. I could take a human life, if necessary, with far

less compunction than that of a poor, unreasoning, irresponsible brute.

In the course of a few days my thoats were the wonder of the entire

community. They would follow me like dogs, rubbing their great snouts

against my body in awkward evidence of affection, and respond to my

every command with an alacrity and docility which caused the Martian

warriors to ascribe to me the possession of some earthly power unknown

on Mars.

“How have you bewitched them?” asked Tars Tarkas one afternoon, when he

had seen me run my arm far between the great jaws of one of my thoats

which had wedged a piece of stone between two of his teeth while

feeding upon the moss-like vegetation within our court yard.

“By kindness,” I replied. “You see, Tars Tarkas, the softer sentiments

have their value, even to a warrior. In the height of battle as well as

upon the march I know that my thoats will obey my every command, and

therefore my fighting efficiency is enhanced, and I am a better warrior

for the reason that I am a kind master. Your other warriors would find

it to the advantage of themselves as well as of the community to adopt

my methods in this respect. Only a few days since you, yourself, told

me that these great brutes, by the uncertainty of their tempers, often

were the means of turning victory into defeat, since, at a crucial

moment, they might elect to unseat and rend their riders.”

“Show me how you accomplish these results,” was Tars Tarkas’ only

rejoinder.

And so I explained as carefully as I could the entire method of

training I had adopted with my beasts, and later he had me repeat it

before Lorquas Ptomel and the assembled warriors. That moment marked

the beginning of a new existence for the poor thoats, and before I left

the community of Lorquas Ptomel I had the satisfaction of observing a

regiment of as tractable and docile mounts as one might care to see.

The effect on the precision and celerity of the military movements was

so remarkable that Lorquas Ptomel presented me with a massive anklet of

gold from his own leg, as a sign of his appreciation of my service to

the horde.

On the seventh day following the battle with the air craft we again

took up the march toward Thark, all probability of another attack being

deemed remote by Lorquas Ptomel.

During the days just preceding our departure I had seen but little of

Dejah Thoris, as I had been kept very busy by Tars Tarkas with my

lessons in the art of Martian warfare, as well as in the training of my

thoats. The few times I had visited her quarters she had been absent,

walking upon the streets with Sola, or investigating the buildings in

the near vicinity of the plaza. I had warned them against venturing far

from the plaza for fear of the great white apes, whose ferocity I was

only too well acquainted with. However, since Woola accompanied them on

all their excursions, and as Sola was well armed, there was

comparatively little cause for fear.

On the evening before our departure I saw them approaching along one of

the great avenues which lead into the plaza from the east. I advanced

to meet them, and telling Sola that I would take the responsibility for

Dejah Thoris’ safekeeping, I directed her to return to her quarters on

some trivial errand. I liked and trusted Sola, but for some reason I

desired to be alone with Dejah Thoris, who represented to me all that I

had left behind upon Earth in agreeable and congenial companionship.

There seemed bonds of mutual interest between us as powerful as though

we had been born under the same roof rather than upon different

planets, hurtling through space some forty-eight million miles apart.

That she shared my sentiments in this respect I was positive, for on my

approach the look of pitiful hopelessness left her sweet countenance to

be replaced by a smile of joyful welcome, as she placed her little

right hand upon my left shoulder in true red Martian salute.

“Sarkoja told Sola that you had become a true Thark,” she said, “and

that I would now see no more of you than of any of the other warriors.”

“Sarkoja is a liar of the first magnitude,” I replied, “notwithstanding

the proud claim of the Tharks to absolute verity.”

Dejah Thoris laughed.

“I knew that even though you became a member of the community you would

not cease to be my friend; ‘A warrior may change his metal, but not his

heart,’ as the saying is upon Barsoom.”

“I think they have been trying to keep us apart,” she continued, “for

whenever you have been off duty one of the older women of Tars Tarkas’

retinue has always arranged to trump up some excuse to get Sola and me

out of sight. They have had me down in the pits below the buildings

helping them mix their awful radium powder, and make their terrible

projectiles. You know that these have to be manufactured by artificial

light, as exposure to sunlight always results in an explosion. You have

noticed that their bullets explode when they strike an object? Well,

the opaque, outer coating is broken by the impact, exposing a glass

cylinder, almost solid, in the forward end of which is a minute

particle of radium powder. The moment the sunlight, even though

diffused, strikes this powder it explodes with a violence which nothing

can withstand. If you ever witness a night battle you will note the

absence of these explosions, while the morning following the battle

will be filled at sunrise with the sharp detonations of exploding

missiles fired the preceding night. As a rule, however, non-exploding

projectiles are used at night.”[1]

[1] I have used the word radium in describing this powder because in

the light of recent discoveries on Earth I believe it to be a mixture

of which radium is the base. In Captain Carter’s manuscript it is

mentioned always by the name used in the written language of Helium

and is spelled in hieroglyphics which it would be difficult and

useless to reproduce.

While I was much interested in Dejah Thoris’ explanation of this

wonderful adjunct to Martian warfare, I was more concerned by the

immediate problem of their treatment of her. That they were keeping her

away from me was not a matter for surprise, but that they should

subject her to dangerous and arduous labor filled me with rage.

“Have they ever subjected you to cruelty and ignominy, Dejah Thoris?” I

asked, feeling the hot blood of my fighting ancestors leap in my veins

as I awaited her reply.

“Only in little ways, John Carter,” she answered. “Nothing that can

harm me outside my pride. They know that I am the daughter of ten

thousand jeddaks, that I trace my ancestry straight back without a

break to the builder of the first great waterway, and they, who do not

even know their own mothers, are jealous of me. At heart they hate

their horrid fates, and so wreak their poor spite on me who stand for

everything they have not, and for all they most crave and never can

attain. Let us pity them, my chieftain, for even though we die at their

hands we can afford them pity, since we are greater than they and they

know it.”

Had I known the significance of those words “my chieftain,” as applied

by a red Martian woman to a man, I should have had the surprise of my

life, but I did not know at that time, nor for many months thereafter.

Yes, I still had much to learn upon Barsoom.

“I presume it is the better part of wisdom that we bow to our fate with

as good grace as possible, Dejah Thoris; but I hope, nevertheless, that

I may be present the next time that any Martian, green, red, pink, or

violet, has the temerity to even so much as frown on you, my princess.”

Dejah Thoris caught her breath at my last words, and gazed upon me with

dilated eyes and quickening breath, and then, with an odd little laugh,

which brought roguish dimples to the corners of her mouth, she shook

her head and cried:

“What a child! A great warrior and yet a stumbling little child.”

“What have I done now?” I asked, in sore perplexity.

“Some day you shall know, John Carter, if we live; but I may not tell

you. And I, the daughter of Mors Kajak, son of Tardos Mors, have

listened without anger,” she soliloquized in conclusion.

Then she broke out again into one of her gay, happy, laughing moods;

joking with me on my prowess as a Thark warrior as contrasted with my

soft heart and natural kindliness.

“I presume that should you accidentally wound an enemy you would take

him home and nurse him back to health,” she laughed.

“That is precisely what we do on Earth,” I answered. “At least among

civilized men.”

This made her laugh again. She could not understand it, for, with all

her tenderness and womanly sweetness, she was still a Martian, and to a

Martian the only good enemy is a dead enemy; for every dead foeman

means so much more to divide between those who live.

I was very curious to know what I had said or done to cause her so much

perturbation a moment before and so I continued to importune her to

enlighten me.

“No,” she exclaimed, “it is enough that you have said it and that I

have listened. And when you learn, John Carter, and if I be dead, as

likely I shall be ere the further moon has circled Barsoom another

twelve times, remember that I listened and that I—smiled.”

It was all Greek to me, but the more I begged her to explain the more

positive became her denials of my request, and, so, in very

hopelessness, I desisted.

Day had now given away to night and as we wandered along the great

avenue lighted by the two moons of Barsoom, and with Earth looking down

upon us out of her luminous green eye, it seemed that we were alone in

the universe, and I, at least, was content that it should be so.

The chill of the Martian night was upon us, and removing my silks I

threw them across the shoulders of Dejah Thoris. As my arm rested for

an instant upon her I felt a thrill pass through every fiber of my

being such as contact with no other mortal had even produced; and it

seemed to me that she had leaned slightly toward me, but of that I was

not sure. Only I knew that as my arm rested there across her shoulders

longer than the act of adjusting the silk required she did not draw

away, nor did she speak. And so, in silence, we walked the surface of a

dying world, but in the breast of one of us at least had been born that

which is ever oldest, yet ever new.

I loved Dejah Thoris. The touch of my arm upon her naked shoulder had

spoken to me in words I would not mistake, and I knew that I had loved

her since the first moment that my eyes had met hers that first time in

the plaza of the dead city of Korad.

CHAPTER XIV

A DUEL TO THE DEATH

My first impulse was to tell her of my love, and then I thought of the

helplessness of her position wherein I alone could lighten the burdens

of her captivity, and protect her in my poor way against the thousands

of hereditary enemies she must face upon our arrival at Thark. I could

not chance causing her additional pain or sorrow by declaring a love

which, in all probability she did not return. Should I be so

indiscreet, her position would be even more unbearable than now, and

the thought that she might feel that I was taking advantage of her

helplessness, to influence her decision was the final argument which

sealed my lips.

“Why are you so quiet, Dejah Thoris?” I asked. “Possibly you would

rather return to Sola and your quarters.”

“No,” she murmured, “I am happy here. I do not know why it is that I

should always be happy and contented when you, John Carter, a stranger,

are with me; yet at such times it seems that I am safe and that, with

you, I shall soon return to my father’s court and feel his strong arms

about me and my mother’s tears and kisses on my cheek.”

“Do people kiss, then, upon Barsoom?” I asked, when she had explained

the word she used, in answer to my inquiry as to its meaning.

“Parents, brothers, and sisters, yes; and,” she added in a low,

thoughtful tone, “lovers.”

“And you, Dejah Thoris, have parents and brothers and sisters?”

“Yes.”

“And a—lover?”

She was silent, nor could I venture to repeat the question.

“The man of Barsoom,” she finally ventured, “does not ask personal

questions of women, except his mother, and the woman he has fought for

and won.”

“But I have fought—” I started, and then I wished my tongue had been

cut from my mouth; for she turned even as I caught myself and ceased,

and drawing my silks from her shoulder she held them out to me, and

without a word, and with head held high, she moved with the carriage of

the queen she was toward the plaza and the doorway of her quarters.

I did not attempt to follow her, other than to see that she reached the

building in safety, but, directing Woola to accompany her, I turned

disconsolately and entered my own house. I sat for hours cross-legged,

and cross-tempered, upon my silks meditating upon the queer freaks

chance plays upon us poor devils of mortals.

So this was love! I had escaped it for all the years I had roamed the

five continents and their encircling seas; in spite of beautiful women

and urging opportunity; in spite of a half-desire for love and a

constant search for my ideal, it had remained for me to fall furiously

and hopelessly in love with a creature from another world, of a species

similar possibly, yet not identical with mine. A woman who was hatched

from an egg, and whose span of life might cover a thousand years; whose

people had strange customs and ideas; a woman whose hopes, whose

pleasures, whose standards of virtue and of right and wrong might vary

as greatly from mine as did those of the green Martians.

Yes, I was a fool, but I was in love, and though I was suffering the

greatest misery I had ever known I would not have had it otherwise for

all the riches of Barsoom. Such is love, and such are lovers wherever

love is known.

To me, Dejah Thoris was all that was perfect; all that was virtuous and

beautiful and noble and good. I believed that from the bottom of my

heart, from the depth of my soul on that night in Korad as I sat

cross-legged upon my silks while the nearer moon of Barsoom raced

through the western sky toward the horizon, and lighted up the gold and

marble, and jeweled mosaics of my world-old chamber, and I believe it

today as I sit at my desk in the little study overlooking the Hudson.

Twenty years have intervened; for ten of them I lived and fought for

Dejah Thoris and her people, and for ten I have lived upon her memory.

The morning of our departure for Thark dawned clear and hot, as do all

Martian mornings except for the six weeks when the snow melts at the

poles.

I sought out Dejah Thoris in the throng of departing chariots, but she

turned her shoulder to me, and I could see the red blood mount to her

cheek. With the foolish inconsistency of love I held my peace when I

might have pled ignorance of the nature of my offense, or at least the

gravity of it, and so have effected, at worst, a half conciliation.

[Illustration: I sought out Dejah Thoris in the throng of departing

chariots.]

My duty dictated that I must see that she was comfortable, and so I

glanced into her chariot and rearranged her silks and furs. In doing so

I noted with horror that she was heavily chained by one ankle to the

side of the vehicle.

“What does this mean?” I cried, turning to Sola.

“Sarkoja thought it best,” she answered, her face betokening her

disapproval of the procedure.

Examining the manacles I saw that they fastened with a massive spring

lock.

“Where is the key, Sola? Let me have it.”

“Sarkoja wears it, John Carter,” she answered.

I turned without further word and sought out Tars Tarkas, to whom I

vehemently objected to the unnecessary humiliations and cruelties, as

they seemed to my lover’s eyes, that were being heaped upon Dejah

Thoris.

“John Carter,” he answered, “if ever you and Dejah Thoris escape the

Tharks it will be upon this journey. We know that you will not go

without her. You have shown yourself a mighty fighter, and we do not

wish to manacle you, so we hold you both in the easiest way that will

yet ensure security. I have spoken.”

I saw the strength of his reasoning at a flash, and knew that it was

futile to appeal from his decision, but I asked that the key be taken

from Sarkoja and that she be directed to leave the prisoner alone in

future.

“This much, Tars Tarkas, you may do for me in return for the friendship

that, I must confess, I feel for you.”

“Friendship?” he replied. “There is no such thing, John Carter; but

have your will. I shall direct that Sarkoja cease to annoy the girl,

and I myself will take the custody of the key.”

“Unless you wish me to assume the responsibility,” I said, smiling.

He looked at me long and earnestly before he spoke.

“Were you to give me your word that neither you nor Dejah Thoris would

attempt to escape until after we have safely reached the court of Tal

Hajus you might have the key and throw the chains into the river Iss.”

“It were better that you held the key, Tars Tarkas,” I replied.

He smiled, and said no more, but that night as we were making camp I

saw him unfasten Dejah Thoris’ fetters himself.

With all his cruel ferocity and coldness there was an undercurrent of

something in Tars Tarkas which he seemed ever battling to subdue. Could

it be a vestige of some human instinct come back from an ancient

forbear to haunt him with the horror of his people’s ways!

As I was approaching Dejah Thoris’ chariot I passed Sarkoja, and the

black, venomous look she accorded me was the sweetest balm I had felt

for many hours. Lord, how she hated me! It bristled from her so

palpably that one might almost have cut it with a sword.

A few moments later I saw her deep in conversation with a warrior named

Zad; a big, hulking, powerful brute, but one who had never made a kill

among his own chieftains, and so was still an _o mad_, or man with one

name; he could win a second name only with the metal of some chieftain.

It was this custom which entitled me to the names of either of the

chieftains I had killed; in fact, some of the warriors addressed me as

Dotar Sojat, a combination of the surnames of the two warrior

chieftains whose metal I had taken, or, in other words, whom I had

slain in fair fight.

As Sarkoja talked with Zad he cast occasional glances in my direction,

while she seemed to be urging him very strongly to some action. I paid

little attention to it at the time, but the next day I had good reason

to recall the circumstances, and at the same time gain a slight insight

into the depths of Sarkoja’s hatred and the lengths to which she was

capable of going to wreak her horrid vengeance on me.

Dejah Thoris would have none of me again on this evening, and though I

spoke her name she neither replied, nor conceded by so much as the

flutter of an eyelid that she realized my existence. In my extremity I

did what most other lovers would have done; I sought word from her

through an intimate. In this instance it was Sola whom I intercepted in

another part of camp.

“What is the matter with Dejah Thoris?” I blurted out at her. “Why will

she not speak to me?”

Sola seemed puzzled herself, as though such strange actions on the part

of two humans were quite beyond her, as indeed they were, poor child.

“She says you have angered her, and that is all she will say, except

that she is the daughter of a jed and the granddaughter of a jeddak and

she has been humiliated by a creature who could not polish the teeth of

her grandmother’s sorak.”

I pondered over this report for some time, finally asking, “What might

a sorak be, Sola?”

“A little animal about as big as my hand, which the red Martian women

keep to play with,” explained Sola.

Not fit to polish the teeth of her grandmother’s cat! I must rank

pretty low in the consideration of Dejah Thoris, I thought; but I could

not help laughing at the strange figure of speech, so homely and in

this respect so earthly. It made me homesick, for it sounded very much

like “not fit to polish her shoes.” And then commenced a train of

thought quite new to me. I began to wonder what my people at home were

doing. I had not seen them for years. There was a family of Carters in

Virginia who claimed close relationship with me; I was supposed to be a

great uncle, or something of the kind equally foolish. I could pass

anywhere for twenty-five to thirty years of age, and to be a great

uncle always seemed the height of incongruity, for my thoughts and

feelings were those of a boy. There were two little kiddies in the

Carter family whom I had loved and who had thought there was no one on

Earth like Uncle Jack; I could see them just as plainly, as I stood

there under the moonlit skies of Barsoom, and I longed for them as I

had never longed for any mortals before. By nature a wanderer, I had

never known the true meaning of the word home, but the great hall of

the Carters had always stood for all that the word did mean to me, and

now my heart turned toward it from the cold and unfriendly peoples I

had been thrown amongst. For did not even Dejah Thoris despise me! I

was a low creature, so low in fact that I was not even fit to polish

the teeth of her grandmother’s cat; and then my saving sense of humor

came to my rescue, and laughing I turned into my silks and furs and

slept upon the moon-haunted ground the sleep of a tired and healthy

fighting man.

We broke camp the next day at an early hour and marched with only a

single halt until just before dark. Two incidents broke the tediousness

of the march. About noon we espied far to our right what was evidently

an incubator, and Lorquas Ptomel directed Tars Tarkas to investigate

it. The latter took a dozen warriors, including myself, and we raced

across the velvety carpeting of moss to the little enclosure.

It was indeed an incubator, but the eggs were very small in comparison

with those I had seen hatching in ours at the time of my arrival on

Mars.

Tars Tarkas dismounted and examined the enclosure minutely, finally

announcing that it belonged to the green men of Warhoon and that the

cement was scarcely dry where it had been walled up.

“They cannot be a day’s march ahead of us,” he exclaimed, the light of

battle leaping to his fierce face.

The work at the incubator was short indeed. The warriors tore open the

entrance and a couple of them, crawling in, soon demolished all the

eggs with their short-swords. Then remounting we dashed back to join

the cavalcade. During the ride I took occasion to ask Tars Tarkas if

these Warhoons whose eggs we had destroyed were a smaller people than

his Tharks.

“I noticed that their eggs were so much smaller than those I saw

hatching in your incubator,” I added.

He explained that the eggs had just been placed there; but, like all

green Martian eggs, they would grow during the five-year period of

incubation until they obtained the size of those I had seen hatching on

the day of my arrival on Barsoom. This was indeed an interesting piece

of information, for it had always seemed remarkable to me that the

green Martian women, large as they were, could bring forth such

enormous eggs as I had seen the four-foot infants emerging from. As a

matter of fact, the new-laid egg is but little larger than an ordinary

goose egg, and as it does not commence to grow until subjected to the

light of the sun the chieftains have little difficulty in transporting

several hundreds of them at one time from the storage vaults to the

incubators.

Shortly after the incident of the Warhoon eggs we halted to rest the

animals, and it was during this halt that the second of the day’s

interesting episodes occurred. I was engaged in changing my riding

cloths from one of my thoats to the other, for I divided the day’s work

between them, when Zad approached me, and without a word struck my

animal a terrific blow with his long-sword.

I did not need a manual of green Martian etiquette to know what reply

to make, for, in fact, I was so wild with anger that I could scarcely

refrain from drawing my pistol and shooting him down for the brute he

was; but he stood waiting with drawn long-sword, and my only choice was

to draw my own and meet him in fair fight with his choice of weapons or

a lesser one.

This latter alternative is always permissible, therefore I could have

used my short-sword, my dagger, my hatchet, or my fists had I wished,

and been entirely within my rights, but I could not use firearms or a

spear while he held only his long-sword.

I chose the same weapon he had drawn because I knew he prided himself

upon his ability with it, and I wished, if I worsted him at all, to do

it with his own weapon. The fight that followed was a long one and

delayed the resumption of the march for an hour. The entire community

surrounded us, leaving a clear space about one hundred feet in diameter

for our battle.

Zad first attempted to rush me down as a bull might a wolf, but I was

much too quick for him, and each time I side-stepped his rushes he

would go lunging past me, only to receive a nick from my sword upon his

arm or back. He was soon streaming blood from a half dozen minor

wounds, but I could not obtain an opening to deliver an effective

thrust. Then he changed his tactics, and fighting warily and with

extreme dexterity, he tried to do by science what he was unable to do

by brute strength. I must admit that he was a magnificent swordsman,

and had it not been for my greater endurance and the remarkable agility

the lesser gravitation of Mars lent me I might not have been able to

put up the creditable fight I did against him.

We circled for some time without doing much damage on either side; the

long, straight, needle-like swords flashing in the sunlight, and

ringing out upon the stillness as they crashed together with each

effective parry. Finally Zad, realizing that he was tiring more than I,

evidently decided to close in and end the battle in a final blaze of

glory for himself; just as he rushed me a blinding flash of light

struck full in my eyes, so that I could not see his approach and could

only leap blindly to one side in an effort to escape the mighty blade

that it seemed I could already feel in my vitals. I was only partially

successful, as a sharp pain in my left shoulder attested, but in the

sweep of my glance as I sought to again locate my adversary, a sight

met my astonished gaze which paid me well for the wound the temporary

blindness had caused me. There, upon Dejah Thoris’ chariot stood three

figures, for the purpose evidently of witnessing the encounter above

the heads of the intervening Tharks. There were Dejah Thoris, Sola, and

Sarkoja, and as my fleeting glance swept over them a little tableau was

presented which will stand graven in my memory to the day of my death.

As I looked, Dejah Thoris turned upon Sarkoja with the fury of a young

tigress and struck something from her upraised hand; something which

flashed in the sunlight as it spun to the ground. Then I knew what had

blinded me at that crucial moment of the fight, and how Sarkoja had

found a way to kill me without herself delivering the final thrust.

Another thing I saw, too, which almost lost my life for me then and

there, for it took my mind for the fraction of an instant entirely from

my antagonist; for, as Dejah Thoris struck the tiny mirror from her

hand, Sarkoja, her face livid with hatred and baffled rage, whipped out

her dagger and aimed a terrific blow at Dejah Thoris; and then Sola,

our dear and faithful Sola, sprang between them; the last I saw was the

great knife descending upon her shielding breast.

My enemy had recovered from his thrust and was making it extremely

interesting for me, so I reluctantly gave my attention to the work in

hand, but my mind was not upon the battle.

We rushed each other furiously time after time, ’til suddenly, feeling

the sharp point of his sword at my breast in a thrust I could neither

parry nor escape, I threw myself upon him with outstretched sword and

with all the weight of my body, determined that I would not die alone

if I could prevent it. I felt the steel tear into my chest, all went

black before me, my head whirled in dizziness, and I felt my knees

giving beneath me.

CHAPTER XV

SOLA TELLS ME HER STORY

When consciousness returned, and, as I soon learned, I was down but a

moment, I sprang quickly to my feet searching for my sword, and there I

found it, buried to the hilt in the green breast of Zad, who lay stone

dead upon the ochre moss of the ancient sea bottom. As I regained my

full senses I found his weapon piercing my left breast, but only

through the flesh and muscles which cover my ribs, entering near the

center of my chest and coming out below the shoulder. As I had lunged I

had turned so that his sword merely passed beneath the muscles,

inflicting a painful but not dangerous wound.

Removing the blade from my body I also regained my own, and turning my

back upon his ugly carcass, I moved, sick, sore, and disgusted, toward

the chariots which bore my retinue and my belongings. A murmur of

Martian applause greeted me, but I cared not for it.

Bleeding and weak I reached my women, who, accustomed to such

happenings, dressed my wounds, applying the wonderful healing and

remedial agents which make only the most instantaneous of death blows

fatal. Give a Martian woman a chance and death must take a back seat.

They soon had me patched up so that, except for weakness from loss of

blood and a little soreness around the wound, I suffered no great

distress from this thrust which, under earthly treatment, undoubtedly

would have put me flat on my back for days.

As soon as they were through with me I hastened to the chariot of Dejah

Thoris, where I found my poor Sola with her chest swathed in bandages,

but apparently little the worse for her encounter with Sarkoja, whose

dagger it seemed had struck the edge of one of Sola’s metal breast

ornaments and, thus deflected, had inflicted but a slight flesh wound.

As I approached I found Dejah Thoris lying prone upon her silks and

furs, her lithe form wracked with sobs. She did not notice my presence,

nor did she hear me speaking with Sola, who was standing a short

distance from the vehicle.

“Is she injured?” I asked of Sola, indicating Dejah Thoris by an

inclination of my head.

“No,” she answered, “she thinks that you are dead.”

“And that her grandmother’s cat may now have no one to polish its

teeth?” I queried, smiling.

“I think you wrong her, John Carter,” said Sola. “I do not understand

either her ways or yours, but I am sure the granddaughter of ten

thousand jeddaks would never grieve like this over any who held but the

highest claim upon her affections. They are a proud race, but they are

just, as are all Barsoomians, and you must have hurt or wronged her

grievously that she will not admit your existence living, though she

mourns you dead.

“Tears are a strange sight upon Barsoom,” she continued, “and so it is

difficult for me to interpret them. I have seen but two people weep in

all my life, other than Dejah Thoris; one wept from sorrow, the other

from baffled rage. The first was my mother, years ago before they

killed her; the other was Sarkoja, when they dragged her from me

today.”

“Your mother!” I exclaimed, “but, Sola, you could not have known your

mother, child.”

“But I did. And my father also,” she added. “If you would like to hear

the strange and un-Barsoomian story come to the chariot tonight, John

Carter, and I will tell you that of which I have never spoken in all my

life before. And now the signal has been given to resume the march, you

must go.”

“I will come tonight, Sola,” I promised. “Be sure to tell Dejah Thoris

I am alive and well. I shall not force myself upon her, and be sure

that you do not let her know I saw her tears. If she would speak with

me I but await her command.”

Sola mounted the chariot, which was swinging into its place in line,

and I hastened to my waiting thoat and galloped to my station beside

Tars Tarkas at the rear of the column.

We made a most imposing and awe-inspiring spectacle as we strung out

across the yellow landscape; the two hundred and fifty ornate and

brightly colored chariots, preceded by an advance guard of some two

hundred mounted warriors and chieftains riding five abreast and one

hundred yards apart, and followed by a like number in the same

formation, with a score or more of flankers on either side; the fifty

extra mastodons, or heavy draught animals, known as zitidars, and the

five or six hundred extra thoats of the warriors running loose within

the hollow square formed by the surrounding warriors. The gleaming

metal and jewels of the gorgeous ornaments of the men and women,

duplicated in the trappings of the zitidars and thoats, and

interspersed with the flashing colors of magnificent silks and furs and

feathers, lent a barbaric splendor to the caravan which would have

turned an East Indian potentate green with envy.

The enormous broad tires of the chariots and the padded feet of the

animals brought forth no sound from the moss-covered sea bottom; and so

we moved in utter silence, like some huge phantasmagoria, except when

the stillness was broken by the guttural growling of a goaded zitidar,

or the squealing of fighting thoats. The green Martians converse but

little, and then usually in monosyllables, low and like the faint

rumbling of distant thunder.

We traversed a trackless waste of moss which, bending to the pressure

of broad tire or padded foot, rose up again behind us, leaving no sign

that we had passed. We might indeed have been the wraiths of the

departed dead upon the dead sea of that dying planet for all the sound

or sign we made in passing. It was the first march of a large body of

men and animals I had ever witnessed which raised no dust and left no

spoor; for there is no dust upon Mars except in the cultivated

districts during the winter months, and even then the absence of high

winds renders it almost unnoticeable.

We camped that night at the foot of the hills we had been approaching

for two days and which marked the southern boundary of this particular

sea. Our animals had been two days without drink, nor had they had

water for nearly two months, not since shortly after leaving Thark;

but, as Tars Tarkas explained to me, they require but little and can

live almost indefinitely upon the moss which covers Barsoom, and which,

he told me, holds in its tiny stems sufficient moisture to meet the

limited demands of the animals.

After partaking of my evening meal of cheese-like food and vegetable

milk I sought out Sola, whom I found working by the light of a torch

upon some of Tars Tarkas’ trappings. She looked up at my approach, her

face lighting with pleasure and with welcome.

“I am glad you came,” she said; “Dejah Thoris sleeps and I am lonely.

Mine own people do not care for me, John Carter; I am too unlike them.

It is a sad fate, since I must live my life amongst them, and I often

wish that I were a true green Martian woman, without love and without

hope; but I have known love and so I am lost.

“I promised to tell you my story, or rather the story of my parents.

From what I have learned of you and the ways of your people I am sure

that the tale will not seem strange to you, but among green Martians it

has no parallel within the memory of the oldest living Thark, nor do

our legends hold many similar tales.

“My mother was rather small, in fact too small to be allowed the

responsibilities of maternity, as our chieftains breed principally for

size. She was also less cold and cruel than most green Martian women,

and caring little for their society, she often roamed the deserted

avenues of Thark alone, or went and sat among the wild flowers that

deck the nearby hills, thinking thoughts and wishing wishes which I

believe I alone among Tharkian women today may understand, for am I not

the child of my mother?

“And there among the hills she met a young warrior, whose duty it was

to guard the feeding zitidars and thoats and see that they roamed not

beyond the hills. They spoke at first only of such things as interest a

community of Tharks, but gradually, as they came to meet more often,

and, as was now quite evident to both, no longer by chance, they talked

about themselves, their likes, their ambitions and their hopes. She

trusted him and told him of the awful repugnance she felt for the

cruelties of their kind, for the hideous, loveless lives they must ever

lead, and then she waited for the storm of denunciation to break from

his cold, hard lips; but instead he took her in his arms and kissed

her.

“They kept their love a secret for six long years. She, my mother, was

of the retinue of the great Tal Hajus, while her lover was a simple

warrior, wearing only his own metal. Had their defection from the

traditions of the Tharks been discovered both would have paid the

penalty in the great arena before Tal Hajus and the assembled hordes.

“The egg from which I came was hidden beneath a great glass vessel upon

the highest and most inaccessible of the partially ruined towers of

ancient Thark. Once each year my mother visited it for the five long

years it lay there in the process of incubation. She dared not come

oftener, for in the mighty guilt of her conscience she feared that her

every move was watched. During this period my father gained great

distinction as a warrior and had taken the metal from several

chieftains. His love for my mother had never diminished, and his own

ambition in life was to reach a point where he might wrest the metal

from Tal Hajus himself, and thus, as ruler of the Tharks, be free to

claim her as his own, as well as, by the might of his power, protect

the child which otherwise would be quickly dispatched should the truth

become known.

“It was a wild dream, that of wresting the metal from Tal Hajus in five

short years, but his advance was rapid, and he soon stood high in the

councils of Thark. But one day the chance was lost forever, in so far

as it could come in time to save his loved ones, for he was ordered

away upon a long expedition to the ice-clad south, to make war upon the

natives there and despoil them of their furs, for such is the manner of

the green Barsoomian; he does not labor for what he can wrest in battle

from others.

“He was gone for four years, and when he returned all had been over for

three; for about a year after his departure, and shortly before the

time for the return of an expedition which had gone forth to fetch the

fruits of a community incubator, the egg had hatched. Thereafter my

mother continued to keep me in the old tower, visiting me nightly and

lavishing upon me the love the community life would have robbed us both

of. She hoped, upon the return of the expedition from the incubator, to

mix me with the other young assigned to the quarters of Tal Hajus, and

thus escape the fate which would surely follow discovery of her sin

against the ancient traditions of the green men.

“She taught me rapidly the language and customs of my kind, and one

night she told me the story I have told to you up to this point,

impressing upon me the necessity for absolute secrecy and the great

caution I must exercise after she had placed me with the other young

Tharks to permit no one to guess that I was further advanced in

education than they, nor by any sign to divulge in the presence of

others my affection for her, or my knowledge of my parentage; and then

drawing me close to her she whispered in my ear the name of my father.

“And then a light flashed out upon the darkness of the tower chamber,

and there stood Sarkoja, her gleaming, baleful eyes fixed in a frenzy

of loathing and contempt upon my mother. The torrent of hatred and

abuse she poured out upon her turned my young heart cold in terror.

That she had heard the entire story was apparent, and that she had

suspected something wrong from my mother’s long nightly absences from

her quarters accounted for her presence there on that fateful night.

“One thing she had not heard, nor did she know, the whispered name of

my father. This was apparent from her repeated demands upon my mother

to disclose the name of her partner in sin, but no amount of abuse or

threats could wring this from her, and to save me from needless torture

she lied, for she told Sarkoja that she alone knew nor would she ever

tell her child.

“With final imprecations, Sarkoja hastened away to Tal Hajus to report

her discovery, and while she was gone my mother, wrapping me in the

silks and furs of her night coverings, so that I was scarcely

noticeable, descended to the streets and ran wildly away toward the

outskirts of the city, in the direction which led to the far south, out

toward the man whose protection she might not claim, but on whose face

she wished to look once more before she died.

“As we neared the city’s southern extremity a sound came to us from

across the mossy flat, from the direction of the only pass through the

hills which led to the gates, the pass by which caravans from either

north or south or east or west would enter the city. The sounds we

heard were the squealing of thoats and the grumbling of zitidars, with

the occasional clank of arms which announced the approach of a body of

warriors. The thought uppermost in her mind was that it was my father

returned from his expedition, but the cunning of the Thark held her

from headlong and precipitate flight to greet him.

“Retreating into the shadows of a doorway she awaited the coming of the

cavalcade which shortly entered the avenue, breaking its formation and

thronging the thoroughfare from wall to wall. As the head of the

procession passed us the lesser moon swung clear of the overhanging

roofs and lit up the scene with all the brilliancy of her wondrous

light. My mother shrank further back into the friendly shadows, and

from her hiding place saw that the expedition was not that of my

father, but the returning caravan bearing the young Tharks. Instantly

her plan was formed, and as a great chariot swung close to our hiding

place she slipped stealthily in upon the trailing tailboard, crouching

low in the shadow of the high side, straining me to her bosom in a

frenzy of love.

“She knew, what I did not, that never again after that night would she

hold me to her breast, nor was it likely we would ever look upon each

other’s face again. In the confusion of the plaza she mixed me with the

other children, whose guardians during the journey were now free to

relinquish their responsibility. We were herded together into a great

room, fed by women who had not accompanied the expedition, and the next

day we were parceled out among the retinues of the chieftains.

“I never saw my mother after that night. She was imprisoned by Tal

Hajus, and every effort, including the most horrible and shameful

torture, was brought to bear upon her to wring from her lips the name

of my father; but she remained steadfast and loyal, dying at last

amidst the laughter of Tal Hajus and his chieftains during some awful

torture she was undergoing.

“I learned afterwards that she told them that she had killed me to save

me from a like fate at their hands, and that she had thrown my body to

the white apes. Sarkoja alone disbelieved her, and I feel to this day

that she suspects my true origin, but does not dare expose me, at the

present, at all events, because she also guesses, I am sure, the

identity of my father.

“When he returned from his expedition and learned the story of my

mother’s fate I was present as Tal Hajus told him; but never by the

quiver of a muscle did he betray the slightest emotion; only he did not

laugh as Tal Hajus gleefully described her death struggles. From that

moment on he was the cruelest of the cruel, and I am awaiting the day

when he shall win the goal of his ambition, and feel the carcass of Tal

Hajus beneath his foot, for I am as sure that he but waits the

opportunity to wreak a terrible vengeance, and that his great love is

as strong in his breast as when it first transfigured him nearly forty

years ago, as I am that we sit here upon the edge of a world-old ocean

while sensible people sleep, John Carter.”

“And your father, Sola, is he with us now?” I asked.

“Yes,” she replied, “but he does not know me for what I am, nor does he

know who betrayed my mother to Tal Hajus. I alone know my father’s

name, and only I and Tal Hajus and Sarkoja know that it was she who

carried the tale that brought death and torture upon her he loved.”

We sat silent for a few moments, she wrapped in the gloomy thoughts of

her terrible past, and I in pity for the poor creatures whom the

heartless, senseless customs of their race had doomed to loveless lives

of cruelty and of hate. Presently she spoke.

“John Carter, if ever a real man walked the cold, dead bosom of Barsoom

you are one. I know that I can trust you, and because the knowledge may

someday help you or him or Dejah Thoris or myself, I am going to tell

you the name of my father, nor place any restrictions or conditions

upon your tongue. When the time comes, speak the truth if it seems best

to you. I trust you because I know that you are not cursed with the

terrible trait of absolute and unswerving truthfulness, that you could

lie like one of your own Virginia gentlemen if a lie would save others

from sorrow or suffering. My father’s name is Tars Tarkas.”

CHAPTER XVI

WE PLAN ESCAPE

The remainder of our journey to Thark was uneventful. We were twenty

days upon the road, crossing two sea bottoms and passing through or

around a number of ruined cities, mostly smaller than Korad. Twice we

crossed the famous Martian waterways, or canals, so-called by our

earthly astronomers. When we approached these points a warrior would be

sent far ahead with a powerful field glass, and if no great body of red

Martian troops was in sight we would advance as close as possible

without chance of being seen and then camp until dark, when we would

slowly approach the cultivated tract, and, locating one of the

numerous, broad highways which cross these areas at regular intervals,

creep silently and stealthily across to the arid lands upon the other

side. It required five hours to make one of these crossings without a

single halt, and the other consumed the entire night, so that we were

just leaving the confines of the high-walled fields when the sun broke

out upon us.

Crossing in the darkness, as we did, I was unable to see but little,

except as the nearer moon, in her wild and ceaseless hurtling through

the Barsoomian heavens, lit up little patches of the landscape from

time to time, disclosing walled fields and low, rambling buildings,

presenting much the appearance of earthly farms. There were many trees,

methodically arranged, and some of them were of enormous height; there

were animals in some of the enclosures, and they announced their

presence by terrified squealings and snortings as they scented our

queer, wild beasts and wilder human beings.

Only once did I perceive a human being, and that was at the

intersection of our crossroad with the wide, white turnpike which cuts

each cultivated district longitudinally at its exact center. The fellow

must have been sleeping beside the road, for, as I came abreast of him,

he raised upon one elbow and after a single glance at the approaching

caravan leaped shrieking to his feet and fled madly down the road,

scaling a nearby wall with the agility of a scared cat. The Tharks paid

him not the slightest attention; they were not out upon the warpath,

and the only sign that I had that they had seen him was a quickening of

the pace of the caravan as we hastened toward the bordering desert

which marked our entrance into the realm of Tal Hajus.

Not once did I have speech with Dejah Thoris, as she sent no word to me

that I would be welcome at her chariot, and my foolish pride kept me

from making any advances. I verily believe that a man’s way with women

is in inverse ratio to his prowess among men. The weakling and the

saphead have often great ability to charm the fair sex, while the

fighting man who can face a thousand real dangers unafraid, sits hiding

in the shadows like some frightened child.

Just thirty days after my advent upon Barsoom we entered the ancient

city of Thark, from whose long-forgotten people this horde of green men

have stolen even their name. The hordes of Thark number some thirty

thousand souls, and are divided into twenty-five communities. Each

community has its own jed and lesser chieftains, but all are under the

rule of Tal Hajus, Jeddak of Thark. Five communities make their

headquarters at the city of Thark, and the balance are scattered among

other deserted cities of ancient Mars throughout the district claimed

by Tal Hajus.

We made our entry into the great central plaza early in the afternoon.

There were no enthusiastic friendly greetings for the returned

expedition. Those who chanced to be in sight spoke the names of

warriors or women with whom they came in direct contact, in the formal

greeting of their kind, but when it was discovered that they brought

two captives a greater interest was aroused, and Dejah Thoris and I

were the centers of inquiring groups.

We were soon assigned to new quarters, and the balance of the day was

devoted to settling ourselves to the changed conditions. My home now

was upon an avenue leading into the plaza from the south, the main

artery down which we had marched from the gates of the city. I was at

the far end of the square and had an entire building to myself. The

same grandeur of architecture which was so noticeable a characteristic

of Korad was in evidence here, only, if that were possible, on a larger

and richer scale. My quarters would have been suitable for housing the

greatest of earthly emperors, but to these queer creatures nothing

about a building appealed to them but its size and the enormity of its

chambers; the larger the building, the more desirable; and so Tal Hajus

occupied what must have been an enormous public building, the largest

in the city, but entirely unfitted for residence purposes; the next

largest was reserved for Lorquas Ptomel, the next for the jed of a

lesser rank, and so on to the bottom of the list of five jeds. The

warriors occupied the buildings with the chieftains to whose retinues

they belonged; or, if they preferred, sought shelter among any of the

thousands of untenanted buildings in their own quarter of town; each

community being assigned a certain section of the city. The selection

of building had to be made in accordance with these divisions, except

in so far as the jeds were concerned, they all occupying edifices which

fronted upon the plaza.

When I had finally put my house in order, or rather seen that it had

been done, it was nearing sunset, and I hastened out with the intention

of locating Sola and her charges, as I had determined upon having

speech with Dejah Thoris and trying to impress on her the necessity of

our at least patching up a truce until I could find some way of aiding

her to escape. I searched in vain until the upper rim of the great red

sun was just disappearing behind the horizon and then I spied the ugly

head of Woola peering from a second-story window on the opposite side

of the very street where I was quartered, but nearer the plaza.

Without waiting for a further invitation I bolted up the winding runway

which led to the second floor, and entering a great chamber at the

front of the building was greeted by the frenzied Woola, who threw his

great carcass upon me, nearly hurling me to the floor; the poor old

fellow was so glad to see me that I thought he would devour me, his

head split from ear to ear, showing his three rows of tusks in his

hobgoblin smile.

Quieting him with a word of command and a caress, I looked hurriedly

through the approaching gloom for a sign of Dejah Thoris, and then, not

seeing her, I called her name. There was an answering murmur from the

far corner of the apartment, and with a couple of quick strides I was

standing beside her where she crouched among the furs and silks upon an

ancient carved wooden seat. As I waited she rose to her full height and

looking me straight in the eye said:

“What would Dotar Sojat, Thark, of Dejah Thoris his captive?”

“Dejah Thoris, I do not know how I have angered you. It was furtherest

from my desire to hurt or offend you, whom I had hoped to protect and

comfort. Have none of me if it is your will, but that you must aid me

in effecting your escape, if such a thing be possible, is not my

request, but my command. When you are safe once more at your father’s

court you may do with me as you please, but from now on until that day

I am your master, and you must obey and aid me.”

She looked at me long and earnestly and I thought that she was

softening toward me.

“I understand your words, Dotar Sojat,” she replied, “but you I do not

understand. You are a queer mixture of child and man, of brute and

noble. I only wish that I might read your heart.”

“Look down at your feet, Dejah Thoris; it lies there now where it has

lain since that other night at Korad, and where it will ever lie

beating alone for you until death stills it forever.”

She took a little step toward me, her beautiful hands outstretched in a

strange, groping gesture.

“What do you mean, John Carter?” she whispered. “What are you saying to

me?”

“I am saying what I had promised myself that I would not say to you, at

least until you were no longer a captive among the green men; what from

your attitude toward me for the past twenty days I had thought never to

say to you; I am saying, Dejah Thoris, that I am yours, body and soul,

to serve you, to fight for you, and to die for you. Only one thing I

ask of you in return, and that is that you make no sign, either of

condemnation or of approbation of my words until you are safe among

your own people, and that whatever sentiments you harbor toward me they

be not influenced or colored by gratitude; whatever I may do to serve

you will be prompted solely from selfish motives, since it gives me

more pleasure to serve you than not.”

“I will respect your wishes, John Carter, because I understand the

motives which prompt them, and I accept your service no more willingly

than I bow to your authority; your word shall be my law. I have twice

wronged you in my thoughts and again I ask your forgiveness.”

Further conversation of a personal nature was prevented by the entrance

of Sola, who was much agitated and wholly unlike her usual calm and

possessed self.

“That horrible Sarkoja has been before Tal Hajus,” she cried, “and from

what I heard upon the plaza there is little hope for either of you.”

“What do they say?” inquired Dejah Thoris.

“That you will be thrown to the wild calots [dogs] in the great arena

as soon as the hordes have assembled for the yearly games.”

“Sola,” I said, “you are a Thark, but you hate and loathe the customs

of your people as much as we do. Will you not accompany us in one

supreme effort to escape? I am sure that Dejah Thoris can offer you a

home and protection among her people, and your fate can be no worse

among them than it must ever be here.”

“Yes,” cried Dejah Thoris, “come with us, Sola, you will be better off

among the red men of Helium than you are here, and I can promise you

not only a home with us, but the love and affection your nature craves

and which must always be denied you by the customs of your own race.

Come with us, Sola; we might go without you, but your fate would be

terrible if they thought you had connived to aid us. I know that even

that fear would not tempt you to interfere in our escape, but we want

you with us, we want you to come to a land of sunshine and happiness,

amongst a people who know the meaning of love, of sympathy, and of

gratitude. Say that you will, Sola; tell me that you will.”

“The great waterway which leads to Helium is but fifty miles to the

south,” murmured Sola, half to herself; “a swift thoat might make it in

three hours; and then to Helium it is five hundred miles, most of the

way through thinly settled districts. They would know and they would

follow us. We might hide among the great trees for a time, but the

chances are small indeed for escape. They would follow us to the very

gates of Helium, and they would take toll of life at every step; you do

not know them.”

“Is there no other way we might reach Helium?” I asked. “Can you not

draw me a rough map of the country we must traverse, Dejah Thoris?”

“Yes,” she replied, and taking a great diamond from her hair she drew

upon the marble floor the first map of Barsoomian territory I had ever

seen. It was crisscrossed in every direction with long straight lines,

sometimes running parallel and sometimes converging toward some great

circle. The lines, she said, were waterways; the circles, cities; and

one far to the northwest of us she pointed out as Helium. There were

other cities closer, but she said she feared to enter many of them, as

they were not all friendly toward Helium.

[Illustration: She drew upon the marble floor the first map of

Barsoomian territory I had ever seen.]

Finally, after studying the map carefully in the moonlight which now

flooded the room, I pointed out a waterway far to the north of us which

also seemed to lead to Helium.

“Does not this pierce your grandfather’s territory?” I asked.

“Yes,” she answered, “but it is two hundred miles north of us; it is

one of the waterways we crossed on the trip to Thark.”

“They would never suspect that we would try for that distant waterway,”

I answered, “and that is why I think that it is the best route for our

escape.”

Sola agreed with me, and it was decided that we should leave Thark this

same night; just as quickly, in fact, as I could find and saddle my

thoats. Sola was to ride one and Dejah Thoris and I the other; each of

us carrying sufficient food and drink to last us for two days, since

the animals could not be urged too rapidly for so long a distance.

I directed Sola to proceed with Dejah Thoris along one of the less

frequented avenues to the southern boundary of the city, where I would

overtake them with the thoats as quickly as possible; then, leaving

them to gather what food, silks, and furs we were to need, I slipped

quietly to the rear of the first floor, and entered the courtyard,

where our animals were moving restlessly about, as was their habit,

before settling down for the night.

In the shadows of the buildings and out beneath the radiance of the

Martian moons moved the great herd of thoats and zitidars, the latter

grunting their low gutturals and the former occasionally emitting the

sharp squeal which denotes the almost habitual state of rage in which

these creatures passed their existence. They were quieter now, owing to

the absence of man, but as they scented me they became more restless

and their hideous noise increased. It was risky business, this entering

a paddock of thoats alone and at night; first, because their increasing

noisiness might warn the nearby warriors that something was amiss, and

also because for the slightest cause, or for no cause at all some great

bull thoat might take it upon himself to lead a charge upon me.

Having no desire to awaken their nasty tempers upon such a night as

this, where so much depended upon secrecy and dispatch, I hugged the

shadows of the buildings, ready at an instant’s warning to leap into

the safety of a nearby door or window. Thus I moved silently to the

great gates which opened upon the street at the back of the court, and

as I neared the exit I called softly to my two animals. How I thanked

the kind providence which had given me the foresight to win the love

and confidence of these wild dumb brutes, for presently from the far

side of the court I saw two huge bulks forcing their way toward me

through the surging mountains of flesh.

They came quite close to me, rubbing their muzzles against my body and

nosing for the bits of food it was always my practice to reward them

with. Opening the gates I ordered the two great beasts to pass out, and

then slipping quietly after them I closed the portals behind me.

I did not saddle or mount the animals there, but instead walked quietly

in the shadows of the buildings toward an unfrequented avenue which led

toward the point I had arranged to meet Dejah Thoris and Sola. With the

noiselessness of disembodied spirits we moved stealthily along the

deserted streets, but not until we were within sight of the plain

beyond the city did I commence to breathe freely. I was sure that Sola

and Dejah Thoris would find no difficulty in reaching our rendezvous

undetected, but with my great thoats I was not so sure for myself, as

it was quite unusual for warriors to leave the city after dark; in fact

there was no place for them to go within any but a long ride.

I reached the appointed meeting place safely, but as Dejah Thoris and

Sola were not there I led my animals into the entrance hall of one of

the large buildings. Presuming that one of the other women of the same

household may have come in to speak to Sola, and so delayed their

departure, I did not feel any undue apprehension until nearly an hour

had passed without a sign of them, and by the time another half hour

had crawled away I was becoming filled with grave anxiety. Then there

broke upon the stillness of the night the sound of an approaching

party, which, from the noise, I knew could be no fugitives creeping

stealthily toward liberty. Soon the party was near me, and from the

black shadows of my entranceway I perceived a score of mounted

warriors, who, in passing, dropped a dozen words that fetched my heart

clean into the top of my head.

“He would likely have arranged to meet them just without the city, and

so—” I heard no more, they had passed on; but it was enough. Our plan

had been discovered, and the chances for escape from now on to the

fearful end would be small indeed. My one hope now was to return

undetected to the quarters of Dejah Thoris and learn what fate had

overtaken her, but how to do it with these great monstrous thoats upon

my hands, now that the city probably was aroused by the knowledge of my

escape was a problem of no mean proportions.

Suddenly an idea occurred to me, and acting on my knowledge of the

construction of the buildings of these ancient Martian cities with a

hollow court within the center of each square, I groped my way blindly

through the dark chambers, calling the great thoats after me. They had

difficulty in negotiating some of the doorways, but as the buildings

fronting the city’s principal exposures were all designed upon a

magnificent scale, they were able to wriggle through without sticking

fast; and thus we finally made the inner court where I found, as I had

expected, the usual carpet of moss-like vegetation which would provide

their food and drink until I could return them to their own enclosure.

That they would be as quiet and contented here as elsewhere I was

confident, nor was there but the remotest possibility that they would

be discovered, as the green men had no great desire to enter these

outlying buildings, which were frequented by the only thing, I believe,

which caused them the sensation of fear—the great white apes of

Barsoom.

Removing the saddle trappings, I hid them just within the rear doorway

of the building through which we had entered the court, and, turning

the beasts loose, quickly made my way across the court to the rear of

the buildings upon the further side, and thence to the avenue beyond.

Waiting in the doorway of the building until I was assured that no one

was approaching, I hurried across to the opposite side and through the

first doorway to the court beyond; thus, crossing through court after

court with only the slight chance of detection which the necessary

crossing of the avenues entailed, I made my way in safety to the

courtyard in the rear of Dejah Thoris’ quarters.

Here, of course, I found the beasts of the warriors who quartered in

the adjacent buildings, and the warriors themselves I might expect to

meet within if I entered; but, fortunately for me, I had another and

safer method of reaching the upper story where Dejah Thoris should be

found, and, after first determining as nearly as possible which of the

buildings she occupied, for I had never observed them before from the

court side, I took advantage of my relatively great strength and

agility and sprang upward until I grasped the sill of a second-story

window which I thought to be in the rear of her apartment. Drawing

myself inside the room I moved stealthily toward the front of the

building, and not until I had quite reached the doorway of her room was

I made aware by voices that it was occupied.

I did not rush headlong in, but listened without to assure myself that

it was Dejah Thoris and that it was safe to venture within. It was well

indeed that I took this precaution, for the conversation I heard was in

the low gutturals of men, and the words which finally came to me proved

a most timely warning. The speaker was a chieftain and he was giving

orders to four of his warriors.

“And when he returns to this chamber,” he was saying, “as he surely

will when he finds she does not meet him at the city’s edge, you four

are to spring upon him and disarm him. It will require the combined

strength of all of you to do it if the reports they bring back from

Korad are correct. When you have him fast bound bear him to the vaults

beneath the jeddak’s quarters and chain him securely where he may be

found when Tal Hajus wishes him. Allow him to speak with none, nor

permit any other to enter this apartment before he comes. There will be

no danger of the girl returning, for by this time she is safe in the

arms of Tal Hajus, and may all her ancestors have pity upon her, for

Tal Hajus will have none; the great Sarkoja has done a noble night’s

work. I go, and if you fail to capture him when he comes, I commend

your carcasses to the cold bosom of Iss.”

CHAPTER XVII

A COSTLY RECAPTURE

As the speaker ceased he turned to leave the apartment by the door

where I was standing, but I needed to wait no longer; I had heard

enough to fill my soul with dread, and stealing quietly away I returned

to the courtyard by the way I had come. My plan of action was formed

upon the instant, and crossing the square and the bordering avenue upon

the opposite side I soon stood within the courtyard of Tal Hajus.

The brilliantly lighted apartments of the first floor told me where

first to seek, and advancing to the windows I peered within. I soon

discovered that my approach was not to be the easy thing I had hoped,

for the rear rooms bordering the court were filled with warriors and

women. I then glanced up at the stories above, discovering that the

third was apparently unlighted, and so decided to make my entrance to

the building from that point. It was the work of but a moment for me to

reach the windows above, and soon I had drawn myself within the

sheltering shadows of the unlighted third floor.

Fortunately the room I had selected was untenanted, and creeping

noiselessly to the corridor beyond I discovered a light in the

apartments ahead of me. Reaching what appeared to be a doorway I

discovered that it was but an opening upon an immense inner chamber

which towered from the first floor, two stories below me, to the

dome-like roof of the building, high above my head. The floor of this

great circular hall was thronged with chieftains, warriors and women,

and at one end was a great raised platform upon which squatted the most

hideous beast I had ever put my eyes upon. He had all the cold, hard,

cruel, terrible features of the green warriors, but accentuated and

debased by the animal passions to which he had given himself over for

many years. There was not a mark of dignity or pride upon his bestial

countenance, while his enormous bulk spread itself out upon the

platform where he squatted like some huge devil fish, his six limbs

accentuating the similarity in a horrible and startling manner.

But the sight that froze me with apprehension was that of Dejah Thoris

and Sola standing there before him, and the fiendish leer of him as he

let his great protruding eyes gloat upon the lines of her beautiful

figure. She was speaking, but I could not hear what she said, nor could

I make out the low grumbling of his reply. She stood there erect before

him, her head high held, and even at the distance I was from them I

could read the scorn and disgust upon her face as she let her haughty

glance rest without sign of fear upon him. She was indeed the proud

daughter of a thousand jeddaks, every inch of her dear, precious little

body; so small, so frail beside the towering warriors around her, but

in her majesty dwarfing them into insignificance; she was the mightiest

figure among them and I verily believe that they felt it.

Presently Tal Hajus made a sign that the chamber be cleared, and that

the prisoners be left alone before him. Slowly the chieftains, the

warriors and the women melted away into the shadows of the surrounding

chambers, and Dejah Thoris and Sola stood alone before the jeddak of

the Tharks.

One chieftain alone had hesitated before departing; I saw him standing

in the shadows of a mighty column, his fingers nervously toying with

the hilt of his great-sword and his cruel eyes bent in implacable

hatred upon Tal Hajus. It was Tars Tarkas, and I could read his

thoughts as they were an open book for the undisguised loathing upon

his face. He was thinking of that other woman who, forty years ago, had

stood before this beast, and could I have spoken a word into his ear at

that moment the reign of Tal Hajus would have been over; but finally he

also strode from the room, not knowing that he left his own daughter at

the mercy of the creature he most loathed.

Tal Hajus arose, and I, half fearing, half anticipating his intentions,

hurried to the winding runway which led to the floors below. No one was

near to intercept me, and I reached the main floor of the chamber

unobserved, taking my station in the shadow of the same column that

Tars Tarkas had but just deserted. As I reached the floor Tal Hajus was

speaking.

“Princess of Helium, I might wring a mighty ransom from your people

would I but return you to them unharmed, but a thousand times rather

would I watch that beautiful face writhe in the agony of torture; it

shall be long drawn out, that I promise you; ten days of pleasure were

all too short to show the love I harbor for your race. The terrors of

your death shall haunt the slumbers of the red men through all the ages

to come; they will shudder in the shadows of the night as their fathers

tell them of the awful vengeance of the green men; of the power and

might and hate and cruelty of Tal Hajus. But before the torture you

shall be mine for one short hour, and word of that too shall go forth

to Tardos Mors, Jeddak of Helium, your grandfather, that he may grovel

upon the ground in the agony of his sorrow. Tomorrow the torture will

commence; tonight thou art Tal Hajus’; come!”

He sprang down from the platform and grasped her roughly by the arm,

but scarcely had he touched her than I leaped between them. My

short-sword, sharp and gleaming was in my right hand; I could have

plunged it into his putrid heart before he realized that I was upon

him; but as I raised my arm to strike I thought of Tars Tarkas, and,

with all my rage, with all my hatred, I could not rob him of that sweet

moment for which he had lived and hoped all these long, weary years,

and so, instead, I swung my good right fist full upon the point of his

jaw. Without a sound he slipped to the floor as one dead.

In the same deathly silence I grasped Dejah Thoris by the hand, and

motioning Sola to follow we sped noiselessly from the chamber and to

the floor above. Unseen we reached a rear window and with the straps

and leather of my trappings I lowered, first Sola and then Dejah Thoris

to the ground below. Dropping lightly after them I drew them rapidly

around the court in the shadows of the buildings, and thus we returned

over the same course I had so recently followed from the distant

boundary of the city.

We finally came upon my thoats in the courtyard where I had left them,

and placing the trappings upon them we hastened through the building to

the avenue beyond. Mounting, Sola upon one beast, and Dejah Thoris

behind me upon the other, we rode from the city of Thark through the

hills to the south.

Instead of circling back around the city to the northwest and toward

the nearest waterway which lay so short a distance from us, we turned

to the northeast and struck out upon the mossy waste across which, for

two hundred dangerous and weary miles, lay another main artery leading

to Helium.

No word was spoken until we had left the city far behind, but I could

hear the quiet sobbing of Dejah Thoris as she clung to me with her dear

head resting against my shoulder.

“If we make it, my chieftain, the debt of Helium will be a mighty one;

greater than she can ever pay you; and should we not make it,” she

continued, “the debt is no less, though Helium will never know, for you

have saved the last of our line from worse than death.”

I did not answer, but instead reached to my side and pressed the little

fingers of her I loved where they clung to me for support, and then, in

unbroken silence, we sped over the yellow, moonlit moss; each of us

occupied with his own thoughts. For my part I could not be other than

joyful had I tried, with Dejah Thoris’ warm body pressed close to mine,

and with all our unpassed danger my heart was singing as gaily as

though we were already entering the gates of Helium.

Our earlier plans had been so sadly upset that we now found ourselves

without food or drink, and I alone was armed. We therefore urged our

beasts to a speed that must tell on them sorely before we could hope to

sight the ending of the first stage of our journey.

We rode all night and all the following day with only a few short

rests. On the second night both we and our animals were completely

fagged, and so we lay down upon the moss and slept for some five or six

hours, taking up the journey once more before daylight. All the

following day we rode, and when, late in the afternoon we had sighted

no distant trees, the mark of the great waterways throughout all

Barsoom, the terrible truth flashed upon us—we were lost.

Evidently we had circled, but which way it was difficult to say, nor

did it seem possible with the sun to guide us by day and the moons and

stars by night. At any rate no waterway was in sight, and the entire

party was almost ready to drop from hunger, thirst and fatigue. Far

ahead of us and a trifle to the right we could distinguish the outlines

of low mountains. These we decided to attempt to reach in the hope that

from some ridge we might discern the missing waterway. Night fell upon

us before we reached our goal, and, almost fainting from weariness and

weakness, we lay down and slept.

I was awakened early in the morning by some huge body pressing close to

mine, and opening my eyes with a start I beheld my blessed old Woola

snuggling close to me; the faithful brute had followed us across that

trackless waste to share our fate, whatever it might be. Putting my

arms about his neck I pressed my cheek close to his, nor am I ashamed

that I did it, nor of the tears that came to my eyes as I thought of

his love for me. Shortly after this Dejah Thoris and Sola awakened, and

it was decided that we push on at once in an effort to gain the hills.

We had gone scarcely a mile when I noticed that my thoat was commencing

to stumble and stagger in a most pitiful manner, although we had not

attempted to force them out of a walk since about noon of the preceding

day. Suddenly he lurched wildly to one side and pitched violently to

the ground. Dejah Thoris and I were thrown clear of him and fell upon

the soft moss with scarcely a jar; but the poor beast was in a pitiable

condition, not even being able to rise, although relieved of our

weight. Sola told me that the coolness of the night, when it fell,

together with the rest would doubtless revive him, and so I decided not

to kill him, as was my first intention, as I had thought it cruel to

leave him alone there to die of hunger and thirst. Relieving him of his

trappings, which I flung down beside him, we left the poor fellow to

his fate, and pushed on with the one thoat as best we could. Sola and I

walked, making Dejah Thoris ride, much against her will. In this way we

had progressed to within about a mile of the hills we were endeavoring

to reach when Dejah Thoris, from her point of vantage upon the thoat,

cried out that she saw a great party of mounted men filing down from a

pass in the hills several miles away. Sola and I both looked in the

direction she indicated, and there, plainly discernible, were several

hundred mounted warriors. They seemed to be headed in a southwesterly

direction, which would take them away from us.

They doubtless were Thark warriors who had been sent out to capture us,

and we breathed a great sigh of relief that they were traveling in the

opposite direction. Quickly lifting Dejah Thoris from the thoat, I

commanded the animal to lie down and we three did the same, presenting

as small an object as possible for fear of attracting the attention of

the warriors toward us.

We could see them as they filed out of the pass, just for an instant,

before they were lost to view behind a friendly ridge; to us a most

providential ridge; since, had they been in view for any great length

of time, they scarcely could have failed to discover us. As what proved

to be the last warrior came into view from the pass, he halted and, to

our consternation, threw his small but powerful fieldglass to his eye

and scanned the sea bottom in all directions. Evidently he was a

chieftain, for in certain marching formations among the green men a

chieftain brings up the extreme rear of the column. As his glass swung

toward us our hearts stopped in our breasts, and I could feel the cold

sweat start from every pore in my body.

Presently it swung full upon us and—stopped. The tension on our nerves

was near the breaking point, and I doubt if any of us breathed for the

few moments he held us covered by his glass; and then he lowered it and

we could see him shout a command to the warriors who had passed from

our sight behind the ridge. He did not wait for them to join him,

however, instead he wheeled his thoat and came tearing madly in our

direction.

There was but one slight chance and that we must take quickly. Raising

my strange Martian rifle to my shoulder I sighted and touched the

button which controlled the trigger; there was a sharp explosion as the

missile reached its goal, and the charging chieftain pitched backward

from his flying mount.

Springing to my feet I urged the thoat to rise, and directed Sola to

take Dejah Thoris with her upon him and make a mighty effort to reach

the hills before the green warriors were upon us. I knew that in the

ravines and gullies they might find a temporary hiding place, and even

though they died there of hunger and thirst it would be better so than

that they fell into the hands of the Tharks. Forcing my two revolvers

upon them as a slight means of protection, and, as a last resort, as an

escape for themselves from the horrid death which recapture would

surely mean, I lifted Dejah Thoris in my arms and placed her upon the

thoat behind Sola, who had already mounted at my command.

“Good-bye, my princess,” I whispered, “we may meet in Helium yet. I

have escaped from worse plights than this,” and I tried to smile as I

lied.

“What,” she cried, “are you not coming with us?”

“How may I, Dejah Thoris? Someone must hold these fellows off for a

while, and I can better escape them alone than could the three of us

together.”

She sprang quickly from the thoat and, throwing her dear arms about my

neck, turned to Sola, saying with quiet dignity: “Fly, Sola! Dejah

Thoris remains to die with the man she loves.”

Those words are engraved upon my heart. Ah, gladly would I give up my

life a thousand times could I only hear them once again; but I could

not then give even a second to the rapture of her sweet embrace, and

pressing my lips to hers for the first time, I picked her up bodily and

tossed her to her seat behind Sola again, commanding the latter in

peremptory tones to hold her there by force, and then, slapping the

thoat upon the flank, I saw them borne away; Dejah Thoris struggling to

the last to free herself from Sola’s grasp.

Turning, I beheld the green warriors mounting the ridge and looking for

their chieftain. In a moment they saw him, and then me; but scarcely

had they discovered me than I commenced firing, lying flat upon my

belly in the moss. I had an even hundred rounds in the magazine of my

rifle, and another hundred in the belt at my back, and I kept up a

continuous stream of fire until I saw all of the warriors who had been

first to return from behind the ridge either dead or scurrying to

cover.

My respite was short-lived however, for soon the entire party,

numbering some thousand men, came charging into view, racing madly

toward me. I fired until my rifle was empty and they were almost upon

me, and then a glance showing me that Dejah Thoris and Sola had

disappeared among the hills, I sprang up, throwing down my useless gun,

and started away in the direction opposite to that taken by Sola and

her charge.

If ever Martians had an exhibition of jumping, it was granted those

astonished warriors on that day long years ago, but while it led them

away from Dejah Thoris it did not distract their attention from

endeavoring to capture me.

They raced wildly after me until, finally, my foot struck a projecting

piece of quartz, and down I went sprawling upon the moss. As I looked

up they were upon me, and although I drew my long-sword in an attempt

to sell my life as dearly as possible, it was soon over. I reeled

beneath their blows which fell upon me in perfect torrents; my head

swam; all was black, and I went down beneath them to oblivion.

CHAPTER XVIII

CHAINED IN WARHOON

It must have been several hours before I regained consciousness and I

well remember the feeling of surprise which swept over me as I realized

that I was not dead.

I was lying among a pile of sleeping silks and furs in the corner of a

small room in which were several green warriors, and bending over me

was an ancient and ugly female.

As I opened my eyes she turned to one of the warriors, saying,

“He will live, O Jed.”

“’Tis well,” replied the one so addressed, rising and approaching my

couch, “he should render rare sport for the great games.”

And now as my eyes fell upon him, I saw that he was no Thark, for his

ornaments and metal were not of that horde. He was a huge fellow,

terribly scarred about the face and chest, and with one broken tusk and

a missing ear. Strapped on either breast were human skulls and

depending from these a number of dried human hands.

His reference to the great games of which I had heard so much while

among the Tharks convinced me that I had but jumped from purgatory into

gehenna.

After a few more words with the female, during which she assured him

that I was now fully fit to travel, the jed ordered that we mount and

ride after the main column.

I was strapped securely to as wild and unmanageable a thoat as I had

ever seen, and, with a mounted warrior on either side to prevent the

beast from bolting, we rode forth at a furious pace in pursuit of the

column. My wounds gave me but little pain, so wonderfully and rapidly

had the applications and injections of the female exercised their

therapeutic powers, and so deftly had she bound and plastered the

injuries.

Just before dark we reached the main body of troops shortly after they

had made camp for the night. I was immediately taken before the leader,

who proved to be the jeddak of the hordes of Warhoon.

Like the jed who had brought me, he was frightfully scarred, and also

decorated with the breastplate of human skulls and dried dead hands

which seemed to mark all the greater warriors among the Warhoons, as

well as to indicate their awful ferocity, which greatly transcends even

that of the Tharks.

The jeddak, Bar Comas, who was comparatively young, was the object of

the fierce and jealous hatred of his old lieutenant, Dak Kova, the jed

who had captured me, and I could not but note the almost studied

efforts which the latter made to affront his superior.

He entirely omitted the usual formal salutation as we entered the

presence of the jeddak, and as he pushed me roughly before the ruler he

exclaimed in a loud and menacing voice.

“I have brought a strange creature wearing the metal of a Thark whom it

is my pleasure to have battle with a wild thoat at the great games.”

“He will die as Bar Comas, your jeddak, sees fit, if at all,” replied

the young ruler, with emphasis and dignity.

“If at all?” roared Dak Kova. “By the dead hands at my throat but he

shall die, Bar Comas. No maudlin weakness on your part shall save him.

O, would that Warhoon were ruled by a real jeddak rather than by a

water-hearted weakling from whom even old Dak Kova could tear the metal

with his bare hands!”

Bar Comas eyed the defiant and insubordinate chieftain for an instant,

his expression one of haughty, fearless contempt and hate, and then

without drawing a weapon and without uttering a word he hurled himself

at the throat of his defamer.

I never before had seen two green Martian warriors battle with nature’s

weapons and the exhibition of animal ferocity which ensued was as

fearful a thing as the most disordered imagination could picture. They

tore at each others’ eyes and ears with their hands and with their

gleaming tusks repeatedly slashed and gored until both were cut fairly

to ribbons from head to foot.

Bar Comas had much the better of the battle as he was stronger, quicker

and more intelligent. It soon seemed that the encounter was done saving

only the final death thrust when Bar Comas slipped in breaking away

from a clinch. It was the one little opening that Dak Kova needed, and

hurling himself at the body of his adversary he buried his single

mighty tusk in Bar Comas’ groin and with a last powerful effort ripped

the young jeddak wide open the full length of his body, the great tusk

finally wedging in the bones of Bar Comas’ jaw. Victor and vanquished

rolled limp and lifeless upon the moss, a huge mass of torn and bloody

flesh.

Bar Comas was stone dead, and only the most herculean efforts on the

part of Dak Kova’s females saved him from the fate he deserved. Three

days later he walked without assistance to the body of Bar Comas which,

by custom, had not been moved from where it fell, and placing his foot

upon the neck of his erstwhile ruler he assumed the title of Jeddak of

Warhoon.

The dead jeddak’s hands and head were removed to be added to the

ornaments of his conqueror, and then his women cremated what remained,

amid wild and terrible laughter.

The injuries to Dak Kova had delayed the march so greatly that it was

decided to give up the expedition, which was a raid upon a small Thark

community in retaliation for the destruction of the incubator, until

after the great games, and the entire body of warriors, ten thousand in

number, turned back toward Warhoon.

My introduction to these cruel and bloodthirsty people was but an index

to the scenes I witnessed almost daily while with them. They are a

smaller horde than the Tharks but much more ferocious. Not a day passed

but that some members of the various Warhoon communities met in deadly

combat. I have seen as high as eight mortal duels within a single day.

We reached the city of Warhoon after some three days march and I was

immediately cast into a dungeon and heavily chained to the floor and

walls. Food was brought me at intervals but owing to the utter darkness

of the place I do not know whether I lay there days, or weeks, or

months. It was the most horrible experience of all my life and that my

mind did not give way to the terrors of that inky blackness has been a

wonder to me ever since. The place was filled with creeping, crawling

things; cold, sinuous bodies passed over me when I lay down, and in the

darkness I occasionally caught glimpses of gleaming, fiery eyes, fixed

in horrible intentness upon me. No sound reached me from the world

above and no word would my jailer vouchsafe when my food was brought to

me, although I at first bombarded him with questions.

Finally all the hatred and maniacal loathing for these awful creatures

who had placed me in this horrible place was centered by my tottering

reason upon this single emissary who represented to me the entire horde

of Warhoons.

I had noticed that he always advanced with his dim torch to where he

could place the food within my reach and as he stooped to place it upon

the floor his head was about on a level with my breast. So, with the

cunning of a madman, I backed into the far corner of my cell when next

I heard him approaching and gathering a little slack of the great chain

which held me in my hand I waited his coming, crouching like some beast

of prey. As he stooped to place my food upon the ground I swung the

chain above my head and crashed the links with all my strength upon his

skull. Without a sound he slipped to the floor, stone dead.

Laughing and chattering like the idiot I was fast becoming I fell upon

his prostrate form my fingers feeling for his dead throat. Presently

they came in contact with a small chain at the end of which dangled a

number of keys. The touch of my fingers on these keys brought back my

reason with the suddenness of thought. No longer was I a jibbering

idiot, but a sane, reasoning man with the means of escape within my

very hands.

As I was groping to remove the chain from about my victim’s neck I

glanced up into the darkness to see six pairs of gleaming eyes fixed,

unwinking, upon me. Slowly they approached and slowly I shrank back

from the awful horror of them. Back into my corner I crouched holding

my hands palms out, before me, and stealthily on came the awful eyes

until they reached the dead body at my feet. Then slowly they retreated

but this time with a strange grating sound and finally they disappeared

in some black and distant recess of my dungeon.

CHAPTER XIX

BATTLING IN THE ARENA

Slowly I regained my composure and finally essayed again to attempt to

remove the keys from the dead body of my former jailer. But as I

reached out into the darkness to locate it I found to my horror that it

was gone. Then the truth flashed on me; the owners of those gleaming

eyes had dragged my prize away from me to be devoured in their

neighboring lair; as they had been waiting for days, for weeks, for

months, through all this awful eternity of my imprisonment to drag my

dead carcass to their feast.

For two days no food was brought me, but then a new messenger appeared

and my incarceration went on as before, but not again did I allow my

reason to be submerged by the horror of my position.

Shortly after this episode another prisoner was brought in and chained

near me. By the dim torch light I saw that he was a red Martian and I

could scarcely await the departure of his guards to address him. As

their retreating footsteps died away in the distance, I called out

softly the Martian word of greeting, kaor.

“Who are you who speaks out of the darkness?” he answered.

“John Carter, a friend of the red men of Helium.”

“I am of Helium,” he said, “but I do not recall your name.”

And then I told him my story as I have written it here, omitting only

any reference to my love for Dejah Thoris. He was much excited by the

news of Helium’s princess and seemed quite positive that she and Sola

could easily have reached a point of safety from where they left me. He

said that he knew the place well because the defile through which the

Warhoon warriors had passed when they discovered us was the only one

ever used by them when marching to the south.

“Dejah Thoris and Sola entered the hills not five miles from a great

waterway and are now probably quite safe,” he assured me.

My fellow prisoner was Kantos Kan, a padwar (lieutenant) in the navy of

Helium. He had been a member of the ill-fated expedition which had

fallen into the hands of the Tharks at the time of Dejah Thoris’

capture, and he briefly related the events which followed the defeat of

the battleships.

Badly injured and only partially manned they had limped slowly toward

Helium, but while passing near the city of Zodanga, the capital of

Helium’s hereditary enemies among the red men of Barsoom, they had been

attacked by a great body of war vessels and all but the craft to which

Kantos Kan belonged were either destroyed or captured. His vessel was

chased for days by three of the Zodangan war ships but finally escaped

during the darkness of a moonless night.

Thirty days after the capture of Dejah Thoris, or about the time of our

coming to Thark, his vessel had reached Helium with about ten survivors

of the original crew of seven hundred officers and men. Immediately

seven great fleets, each of one hundred mighty war ships, had been

dispatched to search for Dejah Thoris, and from these vessels two

thousand smaller craft had been kept out continuously in futile search

for the missing princess.

Two green Martian communities had been wiped off the face of Barsoom by

the avenging fleets, but no trace of Dejah Thoris had been found. They

had been searching among the northern hordes, and only within the past

few days had they extended their quest to the south.

Kantos Kan had been detailed to one of the small one-man fliers and had

had the misfortune to be discovered by the Warhoons while exploring

their city. The bravery and daring of the man won my greatest respect

and admiration. Alone he had landed at the city’s boundary and on foot

had penetrated to the buildings surrounding the plaza. For two days and

nights he had explored their quarters and their dungeons in search of

his beloved princess only to fall into the hands of a party of Warhoons

as he was about to leave, after assuring himself that Dejah Thoris was

not a captive there.

During the period of our incarceration Kantos Kan and I became well

acquainted, and formed a warm personal friendship. A few days only

elapsed, however, before we were dragged forth from our dungeon for the

great games. We were conducted early one morning to an enormous

amphitheater, which instead of having been built upon the surface of

the ground was excavated below the surface. It had partially filled

with debris so that how large it had originally been was difficult to

say. In its present condition it held the entire twenty thousand

Warhoons of the assembled hordes.

The arena was immense but extremely uneven and unkempt. Around it the

Warhoons had piled building stone from some of the ruined edifices of

the ancient city to prevent the animals and the captives from escaping

into the audience, and at each end had been constructed cages to hold

them until their turns came to meet some horrible death upon the arena.

Kantos Kan and I were confined together in one of the cages. In the

others were wild calots, thoats, mad zitidars, green warriors, and

women of other hordes, and many strange and ferocious wild beasts of

Barsoom which I had never before seen. The din of their roaring,

growling and squealing was deafening and the formidable appearance of

any one of them was enough to make the stoutest heart feel grave

forebodings.

Kantos Kan explained to me that at the end of the day one of these

prisoners would gain freedom and the others would lie dead about the

arena. The winners in the various contests of the day would be pitted

against each other until only two remained alive; the victor in the

last encounter being set free, whether animal or man. The following

morning the cages would be filled with a new consignment of victims,

and so on throughout the ten days of the games.

Shortly after we had been caged the amphitheater began to fill and

within an hour every available part of the seating space was occupied.

Dak Kova, with his jeds and chieftains, sat at the center of one side

of the arena upon a large raised platform.

At a signal from Dak Kova the doors of two cages were thrown open and a

dozen green Martian females were driven to the center of the arena.

Each was given a dagger and then, at the far end, a pack of twelve

calots, or wild dogs were loosed upon them.

As the brutes, growling and foaming, rushed upon the almost defenseless

women I turned my head that I might not see the horrid sight. The yells

and laughter of the green horde bore witness to the excellent quality

of the sport and when I turned back to the arena, as Kantos Kan told me

it was over, I saw three victorious calots, snarling and growling over

the bodies of their prey. The women had given a good account of

themselves.

Next a mad zitidar was loosed among the remaining dogs, and so it went

throughout the long, hot, horrible day.

During the day I was pitted against first men and then beasts, but as I

was armed with a long-sword and always outclassed my adversary in

agility and generally in strength as well, it proved but child’s play

to me. Time and time again I won the applause of the bloodthirsty

multitude, and toward the end there were cries that I be taken from the

arena and be made a member of the hordes of Warhoon.

Finally there were but three of us left, a great green warrior of some

far northern horde, Kantos Kan, and myself.

The other two were to battle and then I to fight the conqueror for the

liberty which was accorded the final winner.

Kantos Kan had fought several times during the day and like myself had

always proven victorious, but occasionally by the smallest of margins,

especially when pitted against the green warriors. I had little hope

that he could best his giant adversary who had mowed down all before

him during the day. The fellow towered nearly sixteen feet in height,

while Kantos Kan was some inches under six feet. As they advanced to

meet one another I saw for the first time a trick of Martian

swordsmanship which centered Kantos Kan’s every hope of victory and

life on one cast of the dice, for, as he came to within about twenty

feet of the huge fellow he threw his sword arm far behind him over his

shoulder and with a mighty sweep hurled his weapon point foremost at

the green warrior. It flew true as an arrow and piercing the poor

devil’s heart laid him dead upon the arena.

Kantos Kan and I were now pitted against each other but as we

approached to the encounter I whispered to him to prolong the battle

until nearly dark in the hope that we might find some means of escape.

The horde evidently guessed that we had no hearts to fight each other

and so they howled in rage as neither of us placed a fatal thrust. Just

as I saw the sudden coming of dark I whispered to Kantos Kan to thrust

his sword between my left arm and my body. As he did so I staggered

back clasping the sword tightly with my arm and thus fell to the ground

with his weapon apparently protruding from my chest. Kantos Kan

perceived my coup and stepping quickly to my side he placed his foot

upon my neck and withdrawing his sword from my body gave me the final

death blow through the neck which is supposed to sever the jugular

vein, but in this instance the cold blade slipped harmlessly into the

sand of the arena. In the darkness which had now fallen none could tell

but that he had really finished me. I whispered to him to go and claim

his freedom and then look for me in the hills east of the city, and so

he left me.

When the amphitheater had cleared I crept stealthily to the top and as

the great excavation lay far from the plaza and in an untenanted

portion of the great dead city I had little trouble in reaching the

hills beyond.

CHAPTER XX

IN THE ATMOSPHERE FACTORY

For two days I waited there for Kantos Kan, but as he did not come I

started off on foot in a northwesterly direction toward a point where

he had told me lay the nearest waterway. My only food consisted of

vegetable milk from the plants which gave so bounteously of this

priceless fluid.

Through two long weeks I wandered, stumbling through the nights guided

only by the stars and hiding during the days behind some protruding

rock or among the occasional hills I traversed. Several times I was

attacked by wild beasts; strange, uncouth monstrosities that leaped

upon me in the dark, so that I had ever to grasp my long-sword in my

hand that I might be ready for them. Usually my strange, newly acquired

telepathic power warned me in ample time, but once I was down with

vicious fangs at my jugular and a hairy face pressed close to mine

before I knew that I was even threatened.

What manner of thing was upon me I did not know, but that it was large

and heavy and many-legged I could feel. My hands were at its throat

before the fangs had a chance to bury themselves in my neck, and slowly

I forced the hairy face from me and closed my fingers, vise-like, upon

its windpipe.

Without sound we lay there, the beast exerting every effort to reach me

with those awful fangs, and I straining to maintain my grip and choke

the life from it as I kept it from my throat. Slowly my arms gave to

the unequal struggle, and inch by inch the burning eyes and gleaming

tusks of my antagonist crept toward me, until, as the hairy face

touched mine again, I realized that all was over. And then a living

mass of destruction sprang from the surrounding darkness full upon the

creature that held me pinioned to the ground. The two rolled growling

upon the moss, tearing and rending one another in a frightful manner,

but it was soon over and my preserver stood with lowered head above the

throat of the dead thing which would have killed me.

The nearer moon, hurtling suddenly above the horizon and lighting up

the Barsoomian scene, showed me that my preserver was Woola, but from

whence he had come, or how found me, I was at a loss to know. That I

was glad of his companionship it is needless to say, but my pleasure at

seeing him was tempered by anxiety as to the reason of his leaving

Dejah Thoris. Only her death I felt sure, could account for his absence

from her, so faithful I knew him to be to my commands.

By the light of the now brilliant moons I saw that he was but a shadow

of his former self, and as he turned from my caress and commenced

greedily to devour the dead carcass at my feet I realized that the poor

fellow was more than half starved. I, myself, was in but little better

plight but I could not bring myself to eat the uncooked flesh and I had

no means of making a fire. When Woola had finished his meal I again

took up my weary and seemingly endless wandering in quest of the

elusive waterway.

At daybreak of the fifteenth day of my search I was overjoyed to see

the high trees that denoted the object of my search. About noon I

dragged myself wearily to the portals of a huge building which covered

perhaps four square miles and towered two hundred feet in the air. It

showed no aperture in the mighty walls other than the tiny door at

which I sank exhausted, nor was there any sign of life about it.

I could find no bell or other method of making my presence known to the

inmates of the place, unless a small round hole in the wall near the

door was for that purpose. It was of about the bigness of a lead pencil

and thinking that it might be in the nature of a speaking tube I put my

mouth to it and was about to call into it when a voice issued from it

asking me whom I might be, where from, and the nature of my errand.

I explained that I had escaped from the Warhoons and was dying of

starvation and exhaustion.

“You wear the metal of a green warrior and are followed by a calot, yet

you are of the figure of a red man. In color you are neither green nor

red. In the name of the ninth ray, what manner of creature are you?”

“I am a friend of the red men of Barsoom and I am starving. In the name

of humanity open to us,” I replied.

Presently the door commenced to recede before me until it had sunk into

the wall fifty feet, then it stopped and slid easily to the left,

exposing a short, narrow corridor of concrete, at the further end of

which was another door, similar in every respect to the one I had just

passed. No one was in sight, yet immediately we passed the first door

it slid gently into place behind us and receded rapidly to its original

position in the front wall of the building. As the door had slipped

aside I had noted its great thickness, fully twenty feet, and as it

reached its place once more after closing behind us, great cylinders of

steel had dropped from the ceiling behind it and fitted their lower

ends into apertures countersunk in the floor.

A second and third door receded before me and slipped to one side as

the first, before I reached a large inner chamber where I found food

and drink set out upon a great stone table. A voice directed me to

satisfy my hunger and to feed my calot, and while I was thus engaged my

invisible host put me through a severe and searching cross-examination.

“Your statements are most remarkable,” said the voice, on concluding

its questioning, “but you are evidently speaking the truth, and it is

equally evident that you are not of Barsoom. I can tell that by the

conformation of your brain and the strange location of your internal

organs and the shape and size of your heart.”

“Can you see through me?” I exclaimed.

“Yes, I can see all but your thoughts, and were you a Barsoomian I

could read those.”

Then a door opened at the far side of the chamber and a strange, dried

up, little mummy of a man came toward me. He wore but a single article

of clothing or adornment, a small collar of gold from which depended

upon his chest a great ornament as large as a dinner plate set solid

with huge diamonds, except for the exact center which was occupied by a

strange stone, an inch in diameter, that scintillated nine different

and distinct rays; the seven colors of our earthly prism and two

beautiful rays which, to me, were new and nameless. I cannot describe

them any more than you could describe red to a blind man. I only know

that they were beautiful in the extreme.

The old man sat and talked with me for hours, and the strangest part of

our intercourse was that I could read his every thought while he could

not fathom an iota from my mind unless I spoke.

[Illustration: The old man sat and talked with me for hours.]

I did not apprise him of my ability to sense his mental operations, and

thus I learned a great deal which proved of immense value to me later

and which I would never have known had he suspected my strange power,

for the Martians have such perfect control of their mental machinery

that they are able to direct their thoughts with absolute precision.

The building in which I found myself contained the machinery which

produces that artificial atmosphere which sustains life on Mars. The

secret of the entire process hinges on the use of the ninth ray, one of

the beautiful scintillations which I had noted emanating from the great

stone in my host’s diadem.

This ray is separated from the other rays of the sun by means of finely

adjusted instruments placed upon the roof of the huge building,

three-quarters of which is used for reservoirs in which the ninth ray

is stored. This product is then treated electrically, or rather certain

proportions of refined electric vibrations are incorporated with it,

and the result is then pumped to the five principal air centers of the

planet where, as it is released, contact with the ether of space

transforms it into atmosphere.

There is always sufficient reserve of the ninth ray stored in the great

building to maintain the present Martian atmosphere for a thousand

years, and the only fear, as my new friend told me, was that some

accident might befall the pumping apparatus.

He led me to an inner chamber where I beheld a battery of twenty radium

pumps any one of which was equal to the task of furnishing all Mars

with the atmosphere compound. For eight hundred years, he told me, he

had watched these pumps which are used alternately a day each at a

stretch, or a little over twenty-four and one-half Earth hours. He has

one assistant who divides the watch with him. Half a Martian year,

about three hundred and forty-four of our days, each of these men spend

alone in this huge, isolated plant.

Every red Martian is taught during earliest childhood the principles of

the manufacture of atmosphere, but only two at one time ever hold the

secret of ingress to the great building, which, built as it is with

walls a hundred and fifty feet thick, is absolutely unassailable, even

the roof being guarded from assault by air craft by a glass covering

five feet thick.

The only fear they entertain of attack is from the green Martians or

some demented red man, as all Barsoomians realize that the very

existence of every form of life of Mars is dependent upon the

uninterrupted working of this plant.

One curious fact I discovered as I watched his thoughts was that the

outer doors are manipulated by telepathic means. The locks are so

finely adjusted that the doors are released by the action of a certain

combination of thought waves. To experiment with my new-found toy I

thought to surprise him into revealing this combination and so I asked

him in a casual manner how he had managed to unlock the massive doors

for me from the inner chambers of the building. As quick as a flash

there leaped to his mind nine Martian sounds, but as quickly faded as

he answered that this was a secret he must not divulge.

From then on his manner toward me changed as though he feared that he

had been surprised into divulging his great secret, and I read

suspicion and fear in his looks and thoughts, though his words were

still fair.

Before I retired for the night he promised to give me a letter to a

nearby agricultural officer who would help me on my way to Zodanga,

which he said, was the nearest Martian city.

“But be sure that you do not let them know you are bound for Helium as

they are at war with that country. My assistant and I are of no

country, we belong to all Barsoom and this talisman which we wear

protects us in all lands, even among the green men—though we do not

trust ourselves to their hands if we can avoid it,” he added.

“And so good-night, my friend,” he continued, “may you have a long and

restful sleep—yes, a long sleep.”

And though he smiled pleasantly I saw in his thoughts the wish that he

had never admitted me, and then a picture of him standing over me in

the night, and the swift thrust of a long dagger and the half formed

words, “I am sorry, but it is for the best good of Barsoom.”

As he closed the door of my chamber behind him his thoughts were cut

off from me as was the sight of him, which seemed strange to me in my

little knowledge of thought transference.

What was I to do? How could I escape through these mighty walls? Easily

could I kill him now that I was warned, but once he was dead I could no

more escape, and with the stopping of the machinery of the great plant

I should die with all the other inhabitants of the planet—all, even

Dejah Thoris were she not already dead. For the others I did not give

the snap of my finger, but the thought of Dejah Thoris drove from my

mind all desire to kill my mistaken host.

Cautiously I opened the door of my apartment and, followed by Woola,

sought the inner of the great doors. A wild scheme had come to me; I

would attempt to force the great locks by the nine thought waves I had

read in my host’s mind.

Creeping stealthily through corridor after corridor and down winding

runways which turned hither and thither I finally reached the great

hall in which I had broken my long fast that morning. Nowhere had I

seen my host, nor did I know where he kept himself by night.

I was on the point of stepping boldly out into the room when a slight

noise behind me warned me back into the shadows of a recess in the

corridor. Dragging Woola after me I crouched low in the darkness.

Presently the old man passed close by me, and as he entered the dimly

lighted chamber which I had been about to pass through I saw that he

held a long thin dagger in his hand and that he was sharpening it upon

a stone. In his mind was the decision to inspect the radium pumps,

which would take about thirty minutes, and then return to my bed

chamber and finish me.

As he passed through the great hall and disappeared down the runway

which led to the pump-room, I stole stealthily from my hiding place and

crossed to the great door, the inner of the three which stood between

me and liberty.

Concentrating my mind upon the massive lock I hurled the nine thought

waves against it. In breathless expectancy I waited, when finally the

great door moved softly toward me and slid quietly to one side. One

after the other the remaining mighty portals opened at my command and

Woola and I stepped forth into the darkness, free, but little better

off than we had been before, other than that we had full stomachs.

Hastening away from the shadows of the formidable pile I made for the

first crossroad, intending to strike the central turnpike as quickly as

possible. This I reached about morning and entering the first enclosure

I came to I searched for some evidences of a habitation.

There were low rambling buildings of concrete barred with heavy

impassable doors, and no amount of hammering and hallooing brought any

response. Weary and exhausted from sleeplessness I threw myself upon

the ground commanding Woola to stand guard.

Some time later I was awakened by his frightful growlings and opened my

eyes to see three red Martians standing a short distance from us and

covering me with their rifles.

“I am unarmed and no enemy,” I hastened to explain. “I have been a

prisoner among the green men and am on my way to Zodanga. All I ask is

food and rest for myself and my calot and the proper directions for

reaching my destination.”

They lowered their rifles and advanced pleasantly toward me placing

their right hands upon my left shoulder, after the manner of their

custom of salute, and asking me many questions about myself and my

wanderings. They then took me to the house of one of them which was

only a short distance away.

The buildings I had been hammering at in the early morning were

occupied only by stock and farm produce, the house proper standing

among a grove of enormous trees, and, like all red-Martian homes, had

been raised at night some forty or fifty feet from the ground on a

large round metal shaft which slid up or down within a sleeve sunk in

the ground, and was operated by a tiny radium engine in the entrance

hall of the building. Instead of bothering with bolts and bars for

their dwellings, the red Martians simply run them up out of harm’s way

during the night. They also have private means for lowering or raising

them from the ground without if they wish to go away and leave them.

These brothers, with their wives and children, occupied three similar

houses on this farm. They did no work themselves, being government

officers in charge. The labor was performed by convicts, prisoners of

war, delinquent debtors and confirmed bachelors who were too poor to

pay the high celibate tax which all red-Martian governments impose.

They were the personification of cordiality and hospitality and I spent

several days with them, resting and recuperating from my long and

arduous experiences.

When they had heard my story—I omitted all reference to Dejah Thoris

and the old man of the atmosphere plant—they advised me to color my

body to more nearly resemble their own race and then attempt to find

employment in Zodanga, either in the army or the navy.

“The chances are small that your tale will be believed until after you

have proven your trustworthiness and won friends among the higher

nobles of the court. This you can most easily do through military

service, as we are a warlike people on Barsoom,” explained one of them,

“and save our richest favors for the fighting man.”

When I was ready to depart they furnished me with a small domestic bull

thoat, such as is used for saddle purposes by all red Martians. The

animal is about the size of a horse and quite gentle, but in color and

shape an exact replica of his huge and fierce cousin of the wilds.

The brothers had supplied me with a reddish oil with which I anointed

my entire body and one of them cut my hair, which had grown quite long,

in the prevailing fashion of the time, square at the back and banged in

front, so that I could have passed anywhere upon Barsoom as a

full-fledged red Martian. My metal and ornaments were also renewed in

the style of a Zodangan gentleman, attached to the house of Ptor, which

was the family name of my benefactors.

They filled a little sack at my side with Zodangan money. The medium of

exchange upon Mars is not dissimilar from our own except that the coins

are oval. Paper money is issued by individuals as they require it and

redeemed twice yearly. If a man issues more than he can redeem, the

government pays his creditors in full and the debtor works out the

amount upon the farms or in mines, which are all owned by the

government. This suits everybody except the debtor as it has been a

difficult thing to obtain sufficient voluntary labor to work the great

isolated farm lands of Mars, stretching as they do like narrow ribbons

from pole to pole, through wild stretches peopled by wild animals and

wilder men.

When I mentioned my inability to repay them for their kindness to me

they assured me that I would have ample opportunity if I lived long

upon Barsoom, and bidding me farewell they watched me until I was out

of sight upon the broad white turnpike.

CHAPTER XXI

AN AIR SCOUT FOR ZODANGA

As I proceeded on my journey toward Zodanga many strange and

interesting sights arrested my attention, and at the several farm

houses where I stopped I learned a number of new and instructive things

concerning the methods and manners of Barsoom.

The water which supplies the farms of Mars is collected in immense

underground reservoirs at either pole from the melting ice caps, and

pumped through long conduits to the various populated centers. Along

either side of these conduits, and extending their entire length, lie

the cultivated districts. These are divided into tracts of about the

same size, each tract being under the supervision of one or more

government officers.

Instead of flooding the surface of the fields, and thus wasting immense

quantities of water by evaporation, the precious liquid is carried

underground through a vast network of small pipes directly to the roots

of the vegetation. The crops upon Mars are always uniform, for there

are no droughts, no rains, no high winds, and no insects, or destroying

birds.

On this trip I tasted the first meat I had eaten since leaving

Earth—large, juicy steaks and chops from the well-fed domestic animals

of the farms. Also I enjoyed luscious fruits and vegetables, but not a

single article of food which was exactly similar to anything on Earth.

Every plant and flower and vegetable and animal has been so refined by

ages of careful, scientific cultivation and breeding that the like of

them on Earth dwindled into pale, gray, characterless nothingness by

comparison.

At a second stop I met some highly cultivated people of the noble class

and while in conversation we chanced to speak of Helium. One of the

older men had been there on a diplomatic mission several years before

and spoke with regret of the conditions which seemed destined ever to

keep these two countries at war.

“Helium,” he said, “rightly boasts the most beautiful women of Barsoom,

and of all her treasures the wondrous daughter of Mors Kajak, Dejah

Thoris, is the most exquisite flower.

“Why,” he added, “the people really worship the ground she walks upon

and since her loss on that ill-starred expedition all Helium has been

draped in mourning.

“That our ruler should have attacked the disabled fleet as it was

returning to Helium was but another of his awful blunders which I fear

will sooner or later compel Zodanga to elevate a wiser man to his

place.”

“Even now, though our victorious armies are surrounding Helium, the

people of Zodanga are voicing their displeasure, for the war is not a

popular one, since it is not based on right or justice. Our forces took

advantage of the absence of the principal fleet of Helium on their

search for the princess, and so we have been able easily to reduce the

city to a sorry plight. It is said she will fall within the next few

passages of the further moon.”

“And what, think you, may have been the fate of the princess, Dejah

Thoris?” I asked as casually as possible.

“She is dead,” he answered. “This much was learned from a green warrior

recently captured by our forces in the south. She escaped from the

hordes of Thark with a strange creature of another world, only to fall

into the hands of the Warhoons. Their thoats were found wandering upon

the sea bottom and evidences of a bloody conflict were discovered

nearby.”

While this information was in no way reassuring, neither was it at all

conclusive proof of the death of Dejah Thoris, and so I determined to

make every effort possible to reach Helium as quickly as I could and

carry to Tardos Mors such news of his granddaughter’s possible

whereabouts as lay in my power.

Ten days after leaving the three Ptor brothers I arrived at Zodanga.

From the moment that I had come in contact with the red inhabitants of

Mars I had noticed that Woola drew a great amount of unwelcome

attention to me, since the huge brute belonged to a species which is

never domesticated by the red men. Were one to stroll down Broadway

with a Numidian lion at his heels the effect would be somewhat similar

to that which I should have produced had I entered Zodanga with Woola.

The very thought of parting with the faithful fellow caused me so great

regret and genuine sorrow that I put it off until just before we

arrived at the city’s gates; but then, finally, it became imperative

that we separate. Had nothing further than my own safety or pleasure

been at stake no argument could have prevailed upon me to turn away the

one creature upon Barsoom that had never failed in a demonstration of

affection and loyalty; but as I would willingly have offered my life in

the service of her in search of whom I was about to challenge the

unknown dangers of this, to me, mysterious city, I could not permit

even Woola’s life to threaten the success of my venture, much less his

momentary happiness, for I doubted not he soon would forget me. And so

I bade the poor beast an affectionate farewell, promising him, however,

that if I came through my adventure in safety that in some way I should

find the means to search him out.

He seemed to understand me fully, and when I pointed back in the

direction of Thark he turned sorrowfully away, nor could I bear to

watch him go; but resolutely set my face toward Zodanga and with a

touch of heartsickness approached her frowning walls.

The letter I bore from them gained me immediate entrance to the vast,

walled city. It was still very early in the morning and the streets

were practically deserted. The residences, raised high upon their metal

columns, resembled huge rookeries, while the uprights themselves

presented the appearance of steel tree trunks. The shops as a rule were

not raised from the ground nor were their doors bolted or barred, since

thievery is practically unknown upon Barsoom. Assassination is the

ever-present fear of all Barsoomians, and for this reason alone their

homes are raised high above the ground at night, or in times of danger.

The Ptor brothers had given me explicit directions for reaching the

point of the city where I could find living accommodations and be near

the offices of the government agents to whom they had given me letters.

My way led to the central square or plaza, which is a characteristic of

all Martian cities.

The plaza of Zodanga covers a square mile and is bounded by the palaces

of the jeddak, the jeds, and other members of the royalty and nobility

of Zodanga, as well as by the principal public buildings, cafes, and

shops.

As I was crossing the great square lost in wonder and admiration of the

magnificent architecture and the gorgeous scarlet vegetation which

carpeted the broad lawns I discovered a red Martian walking briskly

toward me from one of the avenues. He paid not the slightest attention

to me, but as he came abreast I recognized him, and turning I placed my

hand upon his shoulder, calling out:

“Kaor, Kantos Kan!”

Like lightning he wheeled and before I could so much as lower my hand

the point of his long-sword was at my breast.

“Who are you?” he growled, and then as a backward leap carried me fifty

feet from his sword he dropped the point to the ground and exclaimed,

laughing,

“I do not need a better reply, there is but one man upon all Barsoom

who can bounce about like a rubber ball. By the mother of the further

moon, John Carter, how came you here, and have you become a Darseen

that you can change your color at will?”

“You gave me a bad half minute my friend,” he continued, after I had

briefly outlined my adventures since parting with him in the arena at

Warhoon. “Were my name and city known to the Zodangans I would shortly

be sitting on the banks of the lost sea of Korus with my revered and

departed ancestors. I am here in the interest of Tardos Mors, Jeddak of

Helium, to discover the whereabouts of Dejah Thoris, our princess. Sab

Than, prince of Zodanga, has her hidden in the city and has fallen

madly in love with her. His father, Than Kosis, Jeddak of Zodanga, has

made her voluntary marriage to his son the price of peace between our

countries, but Tardos Mors will not accede to the demands and has sent

word that he and his people would rather look upon the dead face of

their princess than see her wed to any than her own choice, and that

personally he would prefer being engulfed in the ashes of a lost and

burning Helium to joining the metal of his house with that of Than

Kosis. His reply was the deadliest affront he could have put upon Than

Kosis and the Zodangans, but his people love him the more for it and

his strength in Helium is greater today than ever.

“I have been here three days,” continued Kantos Kan, “but I have not

yet found where Dejah Thoris is imprisoned. Today I join the Zodangan

navy as an air scout and I hope in this way to win the confidence of

Sab Than, the prince, who is commander of this division of the navy,

and thus learn the whereabouts of Dejah Thoris. I am glad that you are

here, John Carter, for I know your loyalty to my princess and two of us

working together should be able to accomplish much.”

The plaza was now commencing to fill with people going and coming upon

the daily activities of their duties. The shops were opening and the

cafes filling with early morning patrons. Kantos Kan led me to one of

these gorgeous eating places where we were served entirely by

mechanical apparatus. No hand touched the food from the time it entered

the building in its raw state until it emerged hot and delicious upon

the tables before the guests, in response to the touching of tiny

buttons to indicate their desires.

After our meal, Kantos Kan took me with him to the headquarters of the

air-scout squadron and introducing me to his superior asked that I be

enrolled as a member of the corps. In accordance with custom an

examination was necessary, but Kantos Kan had told me to have no fear

on this score as he would attend to that part of the matter. He

accomplished this by taking my order for examination to the examining

officer and representing himself as John Carter.

“This ruse will be discovered later,” he cheerfully explained, “when

they check up my weights, measurements, and other personal

identification data, but it will be several months before this is done

and our mission should be accomplished or have failed long before that

time.”

The next few days were spent by Kantos Kan in teaching me the

intricacies of flying and of repairing the dainty little contrivances

which the Martians use for this purpose. The body of the one-man air

craft is about sixteen feet long, two feet wide and three inches thick,

tapering to a point at each end. The driver sits on top of this plane

upon a seat constructed over the small, noiseless radium engine which

propels it. The medium of buoyancy is contained within the thin metal

walls of the body and consists of the eighth Barsoomian ray, or ray of

propulsion, as it may be termed in view of its properties.

This ray, like the ninth ray, is unknown on Earth, but the Martians

have discovered that it is an inherent property of all light no matter

from what source it emanates. They have learned that it is the solar

eighth ray which propels the light of the sun to the various planets,

and that it is the individual eighth ray of each planet which

“reflects,” or propels the light thus obtained out into space once

more. The solar eighth ray would be absorbed by the surface of Barsoom,

but the Barsoomian eighth ray, which tends to propel light from Mars

into space, is constantly streaming out from the planet constituting a

force of repulsion of gravity which when confined is able to lift

enormous weights from the surface of the ground.

It is this ray which has enabled them to so perfect aviation that

battle ships far outweighing anything known upon Earth sail as

gracefully and lightly through the thin air of Barsoom as a toy balloon

in the heavy atmosphere of Earth.

During the early years of the discovery of this ray many strange

accidents occurred before the Martians learned to measure and control

the wonderful power they had found. In one instance, some nine hundred

years before, the first great battle ship to be built with eighth ray

reservoirs was stored with too great a quantity of the rays and she had

sailed up from Helium with five hundred officers and men, never to

return.

Her power of repulsion for the planet was so great that it had carried

her far into space, where she can be seen today, by the aid of powerful

telescopes, hurtling through the heavens ten thousand miles from Mars;

a tiny satellite that will thus encircle Barsoom to the end of time.

The fourth day after my arrival at Zodanga I made my first flight, and

as a result of it I won a promotion which included quarters in the

palace of Than Kosis.

As I rose above the city I circled several times, as I had seen Kantos

Kan do, and then throwing my engine into top speed I raced at terrific

velocity toward the south, following one of the great waterways which

enter Zodanga from that direction.

I had traversed perhaps two hundred miles in a little less than an hour

when I descried far below me a party of three green warriors racing

madly toward a small figure on foot which seemed to be trying to reach

the confines of one of the walled fields.

Dropping my machine rapidly toward them, and circling to the rear of

the warriors, I soon saw that the object of their pursuit was a red

Martian wearing the metal of the scout squadron to which I was

attached. A short distance away lay his tiny flier, surrounded by the

tools with which he had evidently been occupied in repairing some

damage when surprised by the green warriors.

They were now almost upon him; their flying mounts charging down on the

relatively puny figure at terrific speed, while the warriors leaned low

to the right, with their great metal-shod spears. Each seemed striving

to be the first to impale the poor Zodangan and in another moment his

fate would have been sealed had it not been for my timely arrival.

Driving my fleet air craft at high speed directly behind the warriors I

soon overtook them and without diminishing my speed I rammed the prow

of my little flier between the shoulders of the nearest. The impact

sufficient to have torn through inches of solid steel, hurled the

fellow’s headless body into the air over the head of his thoat, where

it fell sprawling upon the moss. The mounts of the other two warriors

turned squealing in terror, and bolted in opposite directions.

Reducing my speed I circled and came to the ground at the feet of the

astonished Zodangan. He was warm in his thanks for my timely aid and

promised that my day’s work would bring the reward it merited, for it

was none other than a cousin of the jeddak of Zodanga whose life I had

saved.

We wasted no time in talk as we knew that the warriors would surely

return as soon as they had gained control of their mounts. Hastening to

his damaged machine we were bending every effort to finish the needed

repairs and had almost completed them when we saw the two green

monsters returning at top speed from opposite sides of us. When they

had approached within a hundred yards their thoats again became

unmanageable and absolutely refused to advance further toward the air

craft which had frightened them.

The warriors finally dismounted and hobbling their animals advanced

toward us on foot with drawn long-swords.

I advanced to meet the larger, telling the Zodangan to do the best he

could with the other. Finishing my man with almost no effort, as had

now from much practice become habitual with me, I hastened to return to

my new acquaintance whom I found indeed in desperate straits.

He was wounded and down with the huge foot of his antagonist upon his

throat and the great long-sword raised to deal the final thrust. With a

bound I cleared the fifty feet intervening between us, and with

outstretched point drove my sword completely through the body of the

green warrior. His sword fell, harmless, to the ground and he sank

limply upon the prostrate form of the Zodangan.

A cursory examination of the latter revealed no mortal injuries and

after a brief rest he asserted that he felt fit to attempt the return

voyage. He would have to pilot his own craft, however, as these frail

vessels are not intended to convey but a single person.

Quickly completing the repairs we rose together into the still,

cloudless Martian sky, and at great speed and without further mishap

returned to Zodanga.

As we neared the city we discovered a mighty concourse of civilians and

troops assembled upon the plain before the city. The sky was black with

naval vessels and private and public pleasure craft, flying long

streamers of gay-colored silks, and banners and flags of odd and

picturesque design.

My companion signaled that I slow down, and running his machine close

beside mine suggested that we approach and watch the ceremony, which,

he said, was for the purpose of conferring honors on individual

officers and men for bravery and other distinguished service. He then

unfurled a little ensign which denoted that his craft bore a member of

the royal family of Zodanga, and together we made our way through the

maze of low-lying air vessels until we hung directly over the jeddak of

Zodanga and his staff. All were mounted upon the small domestic bull

thoats of the red Martians, and their trappings and ornamentation bore

such a quantity of gorgeously colored feathers that I could not but be

struck with the startling resemblance the concourse bore to a band of

the red Indians of my own Earth.

One of the staff called the attention of Than Kosis to the presence of

my companion above them and the ruler motioned for him to descend. As

they waited for the troops to move into position facing the jeddak the

two talked earnestly together, the jeddak and his staff occasionally

glancing up at me. I could not hear their conversation and presently it

ceased and all dismounted, as the last body of troops had wheeled into

position before their emperor. A member of the staff advanced toward

the troops, and calling the name of a soldier commanded him to advance.

The officer then recited the nature of the heroic act which had won the

approval of the jeddak, and the latter advanced and placed a metal

ornament upon the left arm of the lucky man.

Ten men had been so decorated when the aide called out,

“John Carter, air scout!”

Never in my life had I been so surprised, but the habit of military

discipline is strong within me, and I dropped my little machine lightly

to the ground and advanced on foot as I had seen the others do. As I

halted before the officer, he addressed me in a voice audible to the

entire assemblage of troops and spectators.

“In recognition, John Carter,” he said, “of your remarkable courage and

skill in defending the person of the cousin of the jeddak Than Kosis

and, singlehanded, vanquishing three green warriors, it is the pleasure

of our jeddak to confer on you the mark of his esteem.”

Than Kosis then advanced toward me and placing an ornament upon me,

said:

“My cousin has narrated the details of your wonderful achievement,

which seems little short of miraculous, and if you can so well defend a

cousin of the jeddak how much better could you defend the person of the

jeddak himself. You are therefore appointed a padwar of The Guards and

will be quartered in my palace hereafter.”

I thanked him, and at his direction joined the members of his staff.

After the ceremony I returned my machine to its quarters on the roof of

the barracks of the air-scout squadron, and with an orderly from the

palace to guide me I reported to the officer in charge of the palace.

CHAPTER XXII

I FIND DEJAH

The major-domo to whom I reported had been given instructions to

station me near the person of the jeddak, who, in time of war, is

always in great danger of assassination, as the rule that all is fair

in war seems to constitute the entire ethics of Martian conflict.

He therefore escorted me immediately to the apartment in which Than

Kosis then was. The ruler was engaged in conversation with his son, Sab

Than, and several courtiers of his household, and did not perceive my

entrance.

The walls of the apartment were completely hung with splendid

tapestries which hid any windows or doors which may have pierced them.

The room was lighted by imprisoned rays of sunshine held between the

ceiling proper and what appeared to be a ground-glass false ceiling a

few inches below.

My guide drew aside one of the tapestries, disclosing a passage which

encircled the room, between the hangings and the walls of the chamber.

Within this passage I was to remain, he said, so long as Than Kosis was

in the apartment. When he left I was to follow. My only duty was to

guard the ruler and keep out of sight as much as possible. I would be

relieved after a period of four hours. The major-domo then left me.

The tapestries were of a strange weaving which gave the appearance of

heavy solidity from one side, but from my hiding place I could perceive

all that took place within the room as readily as though there had been

no curtain intervening.

Scarcely had I gained my post than the tapestry at the opposite end of

the chamber separated and four soldiers of The Guard entered,

surrounding a female figure. As they approached Than Kosis the soldiers

fell to either side and there standing before the jeddak and not ten

feet from me, her beautiful face radiant with smiles, was Dejah Thoris.

Sab Than, Prince of Zodanga, advanced to meet her, and hand in hand

they approached close to the jeddak. Than Kosis looked up in surprise,

and, rising, saluted her.

“To what strange freak do I owe this visit from the Princess of Helium,

who, two days ago, with rare consideration for my pride, assured me

that she would prefer Tal Hajus, the green Thark, to my son?”

Dejah Thoris only smiled the more and with the roguish dimples playing

at the corners of her mouth she made answer:

“From the beginning of time upon Barsoom it has been the prerogative of

woman to change her mind as she listed and to dissemble in matters

concerning her heart. That you will forgive, Than Kosis, as has your

son. Two days ago I was not sure of his love for me, but now I am, and

I have come to beg of you to forget my rash words and to accept the

assurance of the Princess of Helium that when the time comes she will

wed Sab Than, Prince of Zodanga.”

“I am glad that you have so decided,” replied Than Kosis. “It is far

from my desire to push war further against the people of Helium, and,

your promise shall be recorded and a proclamation to my people issued

forthwith.”

“It were better, Than Kosis,” interrupted Dejah Thoris, “that the

proclamation wait the ending of this war. It would look strange indeed

to my people and to yours were the Princess of Helium to give herself

to her country’s enemy in the midst of hostilities.”

“Cannot the war be ended at once?” spoke Sab Than. “It requires but the

word of Than Kosis to bring peace. Say it, my father, say the word that

will hasten my happiness, and end this unpopular strife.”

“We shall see,” replied Than Kosis, “how the people of Helium take to

peace. I shall at least offer it to them.”

Dejah Thoris, after a few words, turned and left the apartment, still

followed by her guards.

Thus was the edifice of my brief dream of happiness dashed, broken, to

the ground of reality. The woman for whom I had offered my life, and

from whose lips I had so recently heard a declaration of love for me,

had lightly forgotten my very existence and smilingly given herself to

the son of her people’s most hated enemy.

Although I had heard it with my own ears I could not believe it. I must

search out her apartments and force her to repeat the cruel truth to me

alone before I would be convinced, and so I deserted my post and

hastened through the passage behind the tapestries toward the door by

which she had left the chamber. Slipping quietly through this opening I

discovered a maze of winding corridors, branching and turning in every

direction.

Running rapidly down first one and then another of them I soon became

hopelessly lost and was standing panting against a side wall when I

heard voices near me. Apparently they were coming from the opposite

side of the partition against which I leaned and presently I made out

the tones of Dejah Thoris. I could not hear the words but I knew that I

could not possibly be mistaken in the voice.

Moving on a few steps I discovered another passageway at the end of

which lay a door. Walking boldly forward I pushed into the room only to

find myself in a small antechamber in which were the four guards who

had accompanied her. One of them instantly arose and accosted me,

asking the nature of my business.

“I am from Than Kosis,” I replied, “and wish to speak privately with

Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium.”

“And your order?” asked the fellow.

I did not know what he meant, but replied that I was a member of The

Guard, and without waiting for a reply from him I strode toward the

opposite door of the antechamber, behind which I could hear Dejah

Thoris conversing.

But my entrance was not to be so easily accomplished. The guardsman

stepped before me, saying,

“No one comes from Than Kosis without carrying an order or the

password. You must give me one or the other before you may pass.”

“The only order I require, my friend, to enter where I will, hangs at

my side,” I answered, tapping my long-sword; “will you let me pass in

peace or no?”

For reply he whipped out his own sword, calling to the others to join

him, and thus the four stood, with drawn weapons, barring my further

progress.

“You are not here by the order of Than Kosis,” cried the one who had

first addressed me, “and not only shall you not enter the apartments of

the Princess of Helium but you shall go back to Than Kosis under guard

to explain this unwarranted temerity. Throw down your sword; you cannot

hope to overcome four of us,” he added with a grim smile.

My reply was a quick thrust which left me but three antagonists and I

can assure you that they were worthy of my metal. They had me backed

against the wall in no time, fighting for my life. Slowly I worked my

way to a corner of the room where I could force them to come at me only

one at a time, and thus we fought upward of twenty minutes; the

clanging of steel on steel producing a veritable bedlam in the little

room.

The noise had brought Dejah Thoris to the door of her apartment, and

there she stood throughout the conflict with Sola at her back peering

over her shoulder. Her face was set and emotionless and I knew that she

did not recognize me, nor did Sola.

Finally a lucky cut brought down a second guardsman and then, with only

two opposing me, I changed my tactics and rushed them down after the

fashion of my fighting that had won me many a victory. The third fell

within ten seconds after the second, and the last lay dead upon the

bloody floor a few moments later. They were brave men and noble

fighters, and it grieved me that I had been forced to kill them, but I

would have willingly depopulated all Barsoom could I have reached the

side of my Dejah Thoris in no other way.

Sheathing my bloody blade I advanced toward my Martian Princess, who

still stood mutely gazing at me without sign of recognition.

“Who are you, Zodangan?” she whispered. “Another enemy to harass me in

my misery?”

“I am a friend,” I answered, “a once cherished friend.”

“No friend of Helium’s princess wears that metal,” she replied, “and

yet the voice! I have heard it before; it is not—it cannot be—no, for

he is dead.”

“It is, though, my Princess, none other than John Carter,” I said. “Do

you not recognize, even through paint and strange metal, the heart of

your chieftain?”

As I came close to her she swayed toward me with outstretched hands,

but as I reached to take her in my arms she drew back with a shudder

and a little moan of misery.

“Too late, too late,” she grieved. “O my chieftain that was, and whom I

thought dead, had you but returned one little hour before—but now it is

too late, too late.”

“What do you mean, Dejah Thoris?” I cried. “That you would not have

promised yourself to the Zodangan prince had you known that I lived?”

“Think you, John Carter, that I would give my heart to you yesterday

and today to another? I thought that it lay buried with your ashes in

the pits of Warhoon, and so today I have promised my body to another to

save my people from the curse of a victorious Zodangan army.”

“But I am not dead, my princess. I have come to claim you, and all

Zodanga cannot prevent it.”

“It is too late, John Carter, my promise is given, and on Barsoom that

is final. The ceremonies which follow later are but meaningless

formalities. They make the fact of marriage no more certain than does

the funeral cortege of a jeddak again place the seal of death upon him.

I am as good as married, John Carter. No longer may you call me your

princess. No longer are you my chieftain.”

“I know but little of your customs here upon Barsoom, Dejah Thoris, but

I do know that I love you, and if you meant the last words you spoke to

me that day as the hordes of Warhoon were charging down upon us, no

other man shall ever claim you as his bride. You meant them then, my

princess, and you mean them still! Say that it is true.”

“I meant them, John Carter,” she whispered. “I cannot repeat them now

for I have given myself to another. Ah, if you had only known our ways,

my friend,” she continued, half to herself, “the promise would have

been yours long months ago, and you could have claimed me before all

others. It might have meant the fall of Helium, but I would have given

my empire for my Tharkian chief.”

Then aloud she said: “Do you remember the night when you offended me?

You called me your princess without having asked my hand of me, and

then you boasted that you had fought for me. You did not know, and I

should not have been offended; I see that now. But there was no one to

tell you what I could not, that upon Barsoom there are two kinds of

women in the cities of the red men. The one they fight for that they

may ask them in marriage; the other kind they fight for also, but never

ask their hands. When a man has won a woman he may address her as his

princess, or in any of the several terms which signify possession. You

had fought for me, but had never asked me in marriage, and so when you

called me your princess, you see,” she faltered, “I was hurt, but even

then, John Carter, I did not repulse you, as I should have done, until

you made it doubly worse by taunting me with having won me through

combat.”

“I do not need ask your forgiveness now, Dejah Thoris,” I cried. “You

must know that my fault was of ignorance of your Barsoomian customs.

What I failed to do, through implicit belief that my petition would be

presumptuous and unwelcome, I do now, Dejah Thoris; I ask you to be my

wife, and by all the Virginian fighting blood that flows in my veins

you shall be.”

“No, John Carter, it is useless,” she cried, hopelessly, “I may never

be yours while Sab Than lives.”

“You have sealed his death warrant, my princess—Sab Than dies.”

“Nor that either,” she hastened to explain. “I may not wed the man who

slays my husband, even in self-defense. It is custom. We are ruled by

custom upon Barsoom. It is useless, my friend. You must bear the sorrow

with me. That at least we may share in common. That, and the memory of

the brief days among the Tharks. You must go now, nor ever see me

again. Good-bye, my chieftain that was.”

Disheartened and dejected, I withdrew from the room, but I was not

entirely discouraged, nor would I admit that Dejah Thoris was lost to

me until the ceremony had actually been performed.

As I wandered along the corridors, I was as absolutely lost in the

mazes of winding passageways as I had been before I discovered Dejah

Thoris’ apartments.

I knew that my only hope lay in escape from the city of Zodanga, for

the matter of the four dead guardsmen would have to be explained, and

as I could never reach my original post without a guide, suspicion

would surely rest on me so soon as I was discovered wandering aimlessly

through the palace.

Presently I came upon a spiral runway leading to a lower floor, and

this I followed downward for several stories until I reached the

doorway of a large apartment in which were a number of guardsmen. The

walls of this room were hung with transparent tapestries behind which I

secreted myself without being apprehended.

The conversation of the guardsmen was general, and awakened no interest

in me until an officer entered the room and ordered four of the men to

relieve the detail who were guarding the Princess of Helium. Now, I

knew, my troubles would commence in earnest and indeed they were upon

me all too soon, for it seemed that the squad had scarcely left the

guardroom before one of their number burst in again breathlessly,

crying that they had found their four comrades butchered in the

antechamber.

In a moment the entire palace was alive with people. Guardsmen,

officers, courtiers, servants, and slaves ran helter-skelter through

the corridors and apartments carrying messages and orders, and

searching for signs of the assassin.

This was my opportunity and slim as it appeared I grasped it, for as a

number of soldiers came hurrying past my hiding place I fell in behind

them and followed through the mazes of the palace until, in passing

through a great hall, I saw the blessed light of day coming in through

a series of larger windows.

Here I left my guides, and, slipping to the nearest window, sought for

an avenue of escape. The windows opened upon a great balcony which

overlooked one of the broad avenues of Zodanga. The ground was about

thirty feet below, and at a like distance from the building was a wall

fully twenty feet high, constructed of polished glass about a foot in

thickness. To a red Martian escape by this path would have appeared

impossible, but to me, with my earthly strength and agility, it seemed

already accomplished. My only fear was in being detected before

darkness fell, for I could not make the leap in broad daylight while

the court below and the avenue beyond were crowded with Zodangans.

Accordingly I searched for a hiding place and finally found one by

accident, inside a huge hanging ornament which swung from the ceiling

of the hall, and about ten feet from the floor. Into the capacious

bowl-like vase I sprang with ease, and scarcely had I settled down

within it than I heard a number of people enter the apartment. The

group stopped beneath my hiding place and I could plainly overhear

their every word.

“It is the work of Heliumites,” said one of the men.

“Yes, O Jeddak, but how had they access to the palace? I could believe

that even with the diligent care of your guardsmen a single enemy might

reach the inner chambers, but how a force of six or eight fighting men

could have done so unobserved is beyond me. We shall soon know,

however, for here comes the royal psychologist.”

Another man now joined the group, and, after making his formal

greetings to his ruler, said:

“O mighty Jeddak, it is a strange tale I read in the dead minds of your

faithful guardsmen. They were felled not by a number of fighting men,

but by a single opponent.”

He paused to let the full weight of this announcement impress his

hearers, and that his statement was scarcely credited was evidenced by

the impatient exclamation of incredulity which escaped the lips of Than

Kosis.

“What manner of weird tale are you bringing me, Notan?” he cried.

“It is the truth, my Jeddak,” replied the psychologist. “In fact the

impressions were strongly marked on the brain of each of the four

guardsmen. Their antagonist was a very tall man, wearing the metal of

one of your own guardsmen, and his fighting ability was little short of

marvelous for he fought fair against the entire four and vanquished

them by his surpassing skill and superhuman strength and endurance.

Though he wore the metal of Zodanga, my Jeddak, such a man was never

seen before in this or any other country upon Barsoom.

“The mind of the Princess of Helium whom I have examined and questioned

was a blank to me, she has perfect control, and I could not read one

iota of it. She said that she witnessed a portion of the encounter, and

that when she looked there was but one man engaged with the guardsmen;

a man whom she did not recognize as ever having seen.”

“Where is my erstwhile savior?” spoke another of the party, and I

recognized the voice of the cousin of Than Kosis, whom I had rescued

from the green warriors. “By the metal of my first ancestor,” he went

on, “but the description fits him to perfection, especially as to his

fighting ability.”

“Where is this man?” cried Than Kosis. “Have him brought to me at once.

What know you of him, cousin? It seemed strange to me now that I think

upon it that there should have been such a fighting man in Zodanga, of

whose name, even, we were ignorant before today. And his name too, John

Carter, who ever heard of such a name upon Barsoom!”

Word was soon brought that I was nowhere to be found, either in the

palace or at my former quarters in the barracks of the air-scout

squadron. Kantos Kan, they had found and questioned, but he knew

nothing of my whereabouts, and as to my past, he had told them he knew

as little, since he had but recently met me during our captivity among

the Warhoons.

“Keep your eyes on this other one,” commanded Than Kosis. “He also is a

stranger and likely as not they both hail from Helium, and where one is

we shall sooner or later find the other. Quadruple the air patrol, and

let every man who leaves the city by air or ground be subjected to the

closest scrutiny.”

Another messenger now entered with word that I was still within the

palace walls.

“The likeness of every person who has entered or left the palace

grounds today has been carefully examined,” concluded the fellow, “and

not one approaches the likeness of this new padwar of the guards, other

than that which was recorded of him at the time he entered.”

“Then we will have him shortly,” commented Than Kosis contentedly, “and

in the meanwhile we will repair to the apartments of the Princess of

Helium and question her in regard to the affair. She may know more than

she cared to divulge to you, Notan. Come.”

They left the hall, and, as darkness had fallen without, I slipped

lightly from my hiding place and hastened to the balcony. Few were in

sight, and choosing a moment when none seemed near I sprang quickly to

the top of the glass wall and from there to the avenue beyond the

palace grounds.

CHAPTER XXIII

LOST IN THE SKY

Without effort at concealment I hastened to the vicinity of our

quarters, where I felt sure I should find Kantos Kan. As I neared the

building I became more careful, as I judged, and rightly, that the

place would be guarded. Several men in civilian metal loitered near the

front entrance and in the rear were others. My only means of reaching,

unseen, the upper story where our apartments were situated was through

an adjoining building, and after considerable maneuvering I managed to

attain the roof of a shop several doors away.

Leaping from roof to roof, I soon reached an open window in the

building where I hoped to find the Heliumite, and in another moment I

stood in the room before him. He was alone and showed no surprise at my

coming, saying he had expected me much earlier, as my tour of duty must

have ended some time since.

I saw that he knew nothing of the events of the day at the palace, and

when I had enlightened him he was all excitement. The news that Dejah

Thoris had promised her hand to Sab Than filled him with dismay.

“It cannot be,” he exclaimed. “It is impossible! Why no man in all

Helium but would prefer death to the selling of our loved princess to

the ruling house of Zodanga. She must have lost her mind to have

assented to such an atrocious bargain. You, who do not know how we of

Helium love the members of our ruling house, cannot appreciate the

horror with which I contemplate such an unholy alliance.”

“What can be done, John Carter?” he continued. “You are a resourceful

man. Can you not think of some way to save Helium from this disgrace?”

“If I can come within sword’s reach of Sab Than,” I answered, “I can

solve the difficulty in so far as Helium is concerned, but for personal

reasons I would prefer that another struck the blow that frees Dejah

Thoris.”

Kantos Kan eyed me narrowly before he spoke.

“You love her!” he said. “Does she know it?”

“She knows it, Kantos Kan, and repulses me only because she is promised

to Sab Than.”

The splendid fellow sprang to his feet, and grasping me by the shoulder

raised his sword on high, exclaiming:

“And had the choice been left to me I could not have chosen a more

fitting mate for the first princess of Barsoom. Here is my hand upon

your shoulder, John Carter, and my word that Sab Than shall go out at

the point of my sword for the sake of my love for Helium, for Dejah

Thoris, and for you. This very night I shall try to reach his quarters

in the palace.”

“How?” I asked. “You are strongly guarded and a quadruple force patrols

the sky.”

He bent his head in thought a moment, then raised it with an air of

confidence.

“I only need to pass these guards and I can do it,” he said at last. “I

know a secret entrance to the palace through the pinnacle of the

highest tower. I fell upon it by chance one day as I was passing above

the palace on patrol duty. In this work it is required that we

investigate any unusual occurrence we may witness, and a face peering

from the pinnacle of the high tower of the palace was, to me, most

unusual. I therefore drew near and discovered that the possessor of the

peering face was none other than Sab Than. He was slightly put out at

being detected and commanded me to keep the matter to myself,

explaining that the passage from the tower led directly to his

apartments, and was known only to him. If I can reach the roof of the

barracks and get my machine I can be in Sab Than’s quarters in five

minutes; but how am I to escape from this building, guarded as you say

it is?”

“How well are the machine sheds at the barracks guarded?” I asked.

“There is usually but one man on duty there at night upon the roof.”

“Go to the roof of this building, Kantos Kan, and wait me there.”

Without stopping to explain my plans I retraced my way to the street

and hastened to the barracks. I did not dare to enter the building,

filled as it was with members of the air-scout squadron, who, in common

with all Zodanga, were on the lookout for me.

The building was an enormous one, rearing its lofty head fully a

thousand feet into the air. But few buildings in Zodanga were higher

than these barracks, though several topped it by a few hundred feet;

the docks of the great battleships of the line standing some fifteen

hundred feet from the ground, while the freight and passenger stations

of the merchant squadrons rose nearly as high.

It was a long climb up the face of the building, and one fraught with

much danger, but there was no other way, and so I essayed the task. The

fact that Barsoomian architecture is extremely ornate made the feat

much simpler than I had anticipated, since I found ornamental ledges

and projections which fairly formed a perfect ladder for me all the way

to the eaves of the building. Here I met my first real obstacle. The

eaves projected nearly twenty feet from the wall to which I clung, and

though I encircled the great building I could find no opening through

them.

The top floor was alight, and filled with soldiers engaged in the

pastimes of their kind; I could not, therefore, reach the roof through

the building.

There was one slight, desperate chance, and that I decided I must

take—it was for Dejah Thoris, and no man has lived who would not risk a

thousand deaths for such as she.

Clinging to the wall with my feet and one hand, I unloosened one of the

long leather straps of my trappings at the end of which dangled a great

hook by which air sailors are hung to the sides and bottoms of their

craft for various purposes of repair, and by means of which landing

parties are lowered to the ground from the battleships.

I swung this hook cautiously to the roof several times before it

finally found lodgment; gently I pulled on it to strengthen its hold,

but whether it would bear the weight of my body I did not know. It

might be barely caught upon the very outer verge of the roof, so that

as my body swung out at the end of the strap it would slip off and

launch me to the pavement a thousand feet below.

An instant I hesitated, and then, releasing my grasp upon the

supporting ornament, I swung out into space at the end of the strap.

Far below me lay the brilliantly lighted streets, the hard pavements,

and death. There was a little jerk at the top of the supporting eaves,

and a nasty slipping, grating sound which turned me cold with

apprehension; then the hook caught and I was safe.

Clambering quickly aloft I grasped the edge of the eaves and drew

myself to the surface of the roof above. As I gained my feet I was

confronted by the sentry on duty, into the muzzle of whose revolver I

found myself looking.

“Who are you and whence came you?” he cried.

“I am an air scout, friend, and very near a dead one, for just by the

merest chance I escaped falling to the avenue below,” I replied.

“But how came you upon the roof, man? No one has landed or come up from

the building for the past hour. Quick, explain yourself, or I call the

guard.”

“Look you here, sentry, and you shall see how I came and how close a

shave I had to not coming at all,” I answered, turning toward the edge

of the roof, where, twenty feet below, at the end of my strap, hung all

my weapons.

The fellow, acting on impulse of curiosity, stepped to my side and to

his undoing, for as he leaned to peer over the eaves I grasped him by

his throat and his pistol arm and threw him heavily to the roof. The

weapon dropped from his grasp, and my fingers choked off his attempted

cry for assistance. I gagged and bound him and then hung him over the

edge of the roof as I myself had hung a few moments before. I knew it

would be morning before he would be discovered, and I needed all the

time that I could gain.

Donning my trappings and weapons I hastened to the sheds, and soon had

out both my machine and Kantos Kan’s. Making his fast behind mine I

started my engine, and skimming over the edge of the roof I dove down

into the streets of the city far below the plane usually occupied by

the air patrol. In less than a minute I was settling safely upon the

roof of our apartment beside the astonished Kantos Kan.

I lost no time in explanation, but plunged immediately into a

discussion of our plans for the immediate future. It was decided that I

was to try to make Helium while Kantos Kan was to enter the palace and

dispatch Sab Than. If successful he was then to follow me. He set my

compass for me, a clever little device which will remain steadfastly

fixed upon any given point on the surface of Barsoom, and bidding each

other farewell we rose together and sped in the direction of the palace

which lay in the route which I must take to reach Helium.

As we neared the high tower a patrol shot down from above, throwing its

piercing searchlight full upon my craft, and a voice roared out a

command to halt, following with a shot as I paid no attention to his

hail. Kantos Kan dropped quickly into the darkness, while I rose

steadily and at terrific speed raced through the Martian sky followed

by a dozen of the air-scout craft which had joined the pursuit, and

later by a swift cruiser carrying a hundred men and a battery of

rapid-fire guns. By twisting and turning my little machine, now rising

and now falling, I managed to elude their search-lights most of the

time, but I was also losing ground by these tactics, and so I decided

to hazard everything on a straight-away course and leave the result to

fate and the speed of my machine.

Kantos Kan had shown me a trick of gearing, which is known only to the

navy of Helium, that greatly increased the speed of our machines, so

that I felt sure I could distance my pursuers if I could dodge their

projectiles for a few moments.

As I sped through the air the screeching of the bullets around me

convinced me that only by a miracle could I escape, but the die was

cast, and throwing on full speed I raced a straight course toward

Helium. Gradually I left my pursuers further and further behind, and I

was just congratulating myself on my lucky escape, when a well-directed

shot from the cruiser exploded at the prow of my little craft. The

concussion nearly capsized her, and with a sickening plunge she hurtled

downward through the dark night.

How far I fell before I regained control of the plane I do not know,

but I must have been very close to the ground when I started to rise

again, as I plainly heard the squealing of animals below me. Rising

again I scanned the heavens for my pursuers, and finally making out

their lights far behind me, saw that they were landing, evidently in

search of me.

Not until their lights were no longer discernible did I venture to

flash my little lamp upon my compass, and then I found to my

consternation that a fragment of the projectile had utterly destroyed

my only guide, as well as my speedometer. It was true I could follow

the stars in the general direction of Helium, but without knowing the

exact location of the city or the speed at which I was traveling my

chances for finding it were slim.

Helium lies a thousand miles southwest of Zodanga, and with my compass

intact I should have made the trip, barring accidents, in between four

and five hours. As it turned out, however, morning found me speeding

over a vast expanse of dead sea bottom after nearly six hours of

continuous flight at high speed. Presently a great city showed below

me, but it was not Helium, as that alone of all Barsoomian metropolises

consists in two immense circular walled cities about seventy-five miles

apart and would have been easily distinguishable from the altitude at

which I was flying.

Believing that I had come too far to the north and west, I turned back

in a southeasterly direction, passing during the forenoon several other

large cities, but none resembling the description which Kantos Kan had

given me of Helium. In addition to the twin-city formation of Helium,

another distinguishing feature is the two immense towers, one of vivid

scarlet rising nearly a mile into the air from the center of one of the

cities, while the other, of bright yellow and of the same height, marks

her sister.

CHAPTER XXIV

TARS TARKAS FINDS A FRIEND

About noon I passed low over a great dead city of ancient Mars, and as

I skimmed out across the plain beyond I came full upon several thousand

green warriors engaged in a terrific battle. Scarcely had I seen them

than a volley of shots was directed at me, and with the almost

unfailing accuracy of their aim my little craft was instantly a ruined

wreck, sinking erratically to the ground.

I fell almost directly in the center of the fierce combat, among

warriors who had not seen my approach so busily were they engaged in

life and death struggles. The men were fighting on foot with

long-swords, while an occasional shot from a sharpshooter on the

outskirts of the conflict would bring down a warrior who might for an

instant separate himself from the entangled mass.

As my machine sank among them I realized that it was fight or die, with

good chances of dying in any event, and so I struck the ground with

drawn long-sword ready to defend myself as I could.

I fell beside a huge monster who was engaged with three antagonists,

and as I glanced at his fierce face, filled with the light of battle, I

recognized Tars Tarkas the Thark. He did not see me, as I was a trifle

behind him, and just then the three warriors opposing him, and whom I

recognized as Warhoons, charged simultaneously. The mighty fellow made

quick work of one of them, but in stepping back for another thrust he

fell over a dead body behind him and was down and at the mercy of his

foes in an instant. Quick as lightning they were upon him, and Tars

Tarkas would have been gathered to his fathers in short order had I not

sprung before his prostrate form and engaged his adversaries. I had

accounted for one of them when the mighty Thark regained his feet and

quickly settled the other.

He gave me one look, and a slight smile touched his grim lip as,

touching my shoulder, he said,

“I would scarcely recognize you, John Carter, but there is no other

mortal upon Barsoom who would have done what you have for me. I think I

have learned that there is such a thing as friendship, my friend.”

He said no more, nor was there opportunity, for the Warhoons were

closing in about us, and together we fought, shoulder to shoulder,

during all that long, hot afternoon, until the tide of battle turned

and the remnant of the fierce Warhoon horde fell back upon their

thoats, and fled into the gathering darkness.

Ten thousand men had been engaged in that titanic struggle, and upon

the field of battle lay three thousand dead. Neither side asked or gave

quarter, nor did they attempt to take prisoners.

On our return to the city after the battle we had gone directly to Tars

Tarkas’ quarters, where I was left alone while the chieftain attended

the customary council which immediately follows an engagement.

As I sat awaiting the return of the green warrior I heard something

move in an adjoining apartment, and as I glanced up there rushed

suddenly upon me a huge and hideous creature which bore me backward

upon the pile of silks and furs upon which I had been reclining. It was

Woola—faithful, loving Woola. He had found his way back to Thark and,

as Tars Tarkas later told me, had gone immediately to my former

quarters where he had taken up his pathetic and seemingly hopeless

watch for my return.

“Tal Hajus knows that you are here, John Carter,” said Tars Tarkas, on

his return from the jeddak’s quarters; “Sarkoja saw and recognized you

as we were returning. Tal Hajus has ordered me to bring you before him

tonight. I have ten thoats, John Carter; you may take your choice from

among them, and I will accompany you to the nearest waterway that leads

to Helium. Tars Tarkas may be a cruel green warrior, but he can be a

friend as well. Come, we must start.”

“And when you return, Tars Tarkas?” I asked.

“The wild calots, possibly, or worse,” he replied. “Unless I should

chance to have the opportunity I have so long waited of battling with

Tal Hajus.”

“We will stay, Tars Tarkas, and see Tal Hajus tonight. You shall not

sacrifice yourself, and it may be that tonight you can have the chance

you wait.”

He objected strenuously, saying that Tal Hajus often flew into wild

fits of passion at the mere thought of the blow I had dealt him, and

that if ever he laid his hands upon me I would be subjected to the most

horrible tortures.

While we were eating I repeated to Tars Tarkas the story which Sola had

told me that night upon the sea bottom during the march to Thark.

He said but little, but the great muscles of his face worked in passion

and in agony at recollection of the horrors which had been heaped upon

the only thing he had ever loved in all his cold, cruel, terrible

existence.

He no longer demurred when I suggested that we go before Tal Hajus,

only saying that he would like to speak to Sarkoja first. At his

request I accompanied him to her quarters, and the look of venomous

hatred she cast upon me was almost adequate recompense for any future

misfortunes this accidental return to Thark might bring me.

“Sarkoja,” said Tars Tarkas, “forty years ago you were instrumental in

bringing about the torture and death of a woman named Gozava. I have

just discovered that the warrior who loved that woman has learned of

your part in the transaction. He may not kill you, Sarkoja, it is not

our custom, but there is nothing to prevent him tying one end of a

strap about your neck and the other end to a wild thoat, merely to test

your fitness to survive and help perpetuate our race. Having heard that

he would do this on the morrow, I thought it only right to warn you,

for I am a just man. The river Iss is but a short pilgrimage, Sarkoja.

Come, John Carter.”

The next morning Sarkoja was gone, nor was she ever seen after.

In silence we hastened to the jeddak’s palace, where we were

immediately admitted to his presence; in fact, he could scarcely wait

to see me and was standing erect upon his platform glowering at the

entrance as I came in.

“Strap him to that pillar,” he shrieked. “We shall see who it is dares

strike the mighty Tal Hajus. Heat the irons; with my own hands I shall

burn the eyes from his head that he may not pollute my person with his

vile gaze.”

“Chieftains of Thark,” I cried, turning to the assembled council and

ignoring Tal Hajus, “I have been a chief among you, and today I have

fought for Thark shoulder to shoulder with her greatest warrior. You

owe me, at least, a hearing. I have won that much today. You claim to

be a just people—”

“Silence,” roared Tal Hajus. “Gag the creature and bind him as I

command.”

“Justice, Tal Hajus,” exclaimed Lorquas Ptomel. “Who are you to set

aside the customs of ages among the Tharks.”

“Yes, justice!” echoed a dozen voices, and so, while Tal Hajus fumed

and frothed, I continued.

“You are a brave people and you love bravery, but where was your mighty

jeddak during the fighting today? I did not see him in the thick of

battle; he was not there. He rends defenseless women and little

children in his lair, but how recently has one of you seen him fight

with men? Why, even I, a midget beside him, felled him with a single

blow of my fist. Is it of such that the Tharks fashion their jeddaks?

There stands beside me now a great Thark, a mighty warrior and a noble

man. Chieftains, how sounds, Tars Tarkas, Jeddak of Thark?”

A roar of deep-toned applause greeted this suggestion.

“It but remains for this council to command, and Tal Hajus must prove

his fitness to rule. Were he a brave man he would invite Tars Tarkas to

combat, for he does not love him, but Tal Hajus is afraid; Tal Hajus,

your jeddak, is a coward. With my bare hands I could kill him, and he

knows it.”

After I ceased there was tense silence, as all eyes were riveted upon

Tal Hajus. He did not speak or move, but the blotchy green of his

countenance turned livid, and the froth froze upon his lips.

“Tal Hajus,” said Lorquas Ptomel in a cold, hard voice, “never in my

long life have I seen a jeddak of the Tharks so humiliated. There could

be but one answer to this arraignment. We wait it.” And still Tal Hajus

stood as though petrified.

“Chieftains,” continued Lorquas Ptomel, “shall the jeddak, Tal Hajus,

prove his fitness to rule over Tars Tarkas?”

There were twenty chieftains about the rostrum, and twenty swords

flashed high in assent.

There was no alternative. That decree was final, and so Tal Hajus drew

his long-sword and advanced to meet Tars Tarkas.

The combat was soon over, and, with his foot upon the neck of the dead

monster, Tars Tarkas became jeddak among the Tharks.

His first act was to make me a full-fledged chieftain with the rank I

had won by my combats the first few weeks of my captivity among them.

Seeing the favorable disposition of the warriors toward Tars Tarkas, as

well as toward me, I grasped the opportunity to enlist them in my cause

against Zodanga. I told Tars Tarkas the story of my adventures, and in

a few words had explained to him the thought I had in mind.

“John Carter has made a proposal,” he said, addressing the council,

“which meets with my sanction. I shall put it to you briefly. Dejah

Thoris, the Princess of Helium, who was our prisoner, is now held by

the jeddak of Zodanga, whose son she must wed to save her country from

devastation at the hands of the Zodangan forces.

“John Carter suggests that we rescue her and return her to Helium. The

loot of Zodanga would be magnificent, and I have often thought that had

we an alliance with the people of Helium we could obtain sufficient

assurance of sustenance to permit us to increase the size and frequency

of our hatchings, and thus become unquestionably supreme among the

green men of all Barsoom. What say you?”

It was a chance to fight, an opportunity to loot, and they rose to the

bait as a speckled trout to a fly.

For Tharks they were wildly enthusiastic, and before another half hour

had passed twenty mounted messengers were speeding across dead sea

bottoms to call the hordes together for the expedition.

In three days we were on the march toward Zodanga, one hundred thousand

strong, as Tars Tarkas had been able to enlist the services of three

smaller hordes on the promise of the great loot of Zodanga.

At the head of the column I rode beside the great Thark while at the

heels of my mount trotted my beloved Woola.

We traveled entirely by night, timing our marches so that we camped

during the day at deserted cities where, even to the beasts, we were

all kept indoors during the daylight hours. On the march Tars Tarkas,

through his remarkable ability and statesmanship, enlisted fifty

thousand more warriors from various hordes, so that, ten days after we

set out we halted at midnight outside the great walled city of Zodanga,

one hundred and fifty thousand strong.

The fighting strength and efficiency of this horde of ferocious green

monsters was equivalent to ten times their number of red men. Never in

the history of Barsoom, Tars Tarkas told me, had such a force of green

warriors marched to battle together. It was a monstrous task to keep

even a semblance of harmony among them, and it was a marvel to me that

he got them to the city without a mighty battle among themselves.

But as we neared Zodanga their personal quarrels were submerged by

their greater hatred for the red men, and especially for the Zodangans,

who had for years waged a ruthless campaign of extermination against

the green men, directing special attention toward despoiling their

incubators.

Now that we were before Zodanga the task of obtaining entry to the city

devolved upon me, and directing Tars Tarkas to hold his forces in two

divisions out of earshot of the city, with each division opposite a

large gateway, I took twenty dismounted warriors and approached one of

the small gates that pierced the walls at short intervals. These gates

have no regular guard, but are covered by sentries, who patrol the

avenue that encircles the city just within the walls as our

metropolitan police patrol their beats.

The walls of Zodanga are seventy-five feet in height and fifty feet

thick. They are built of enormous blocks of carborundum, and the task

of entering the city seemed, to my escort of green warriors, an

impossibility. The fellows who had been detailed to accompany me were

of one of the smaller hordes, and therefore did not know me.

Placing three of them with their faces to the wall and arms locked, I

commanded two more to mount to their shoulders, and a sixth I ordered

to climb upon the shoulders of the upper two. The head of the topmost

warrior towered over forty feet from the ground.

In this way, with ten warriors, I built a series of three steps from

the ground to the shoulders of the topmost man. Then starting from a

short distance behind them I ran swiftly up from one tier to the next,

and with a final bound from the broad shoulders of the highest I

clutched the top of the great wall and quietly drew myself to its broad

expanse. After me I dragged six lengths of leather from an equal number

of my warriors. These lengths we had previously fastened together, and

passing one end to the topmost warrior I lowered the other end

cautiously over the opposite side of the wall toward the avenue below.

No one was in sight, so, lowering myself to the end of my leather

strap, I dropped the remaining thirty feet to the pavement below.

I had learned from Kantos Kan the secret of opening these gates, and in

another moment my twenty great fighting men stood within the doomed

city of Zodanga.

I found to my delight that I had entered at the lower boundary of the

enormous palace grounds. The building itself showed in the distance a

blaze of glorious light, and on the instant I determined to lead a

detachment of warriors directly within the palace itself, while the

balance of the great horde was attacking the barracks of the soldiery.

Dispatching one of my men to Tars Tarkas for a detail of fifty Tharks,

with word of my intentions, I ordered ten warriors to capture and open

one of the great gates while with the nine remaining I took the other.

We were to do our work quietly, no shots were to be fired and no

general advance made until I had reached the palace with my fifty

Tharks. Our plans worked to perfection. The two sentries we met were

dispatched to their fathers upon the banks of the lost sea of Korus,

and the guards at both gates followed them in silence.

CHAPTER XXV

THE LOOTING OF ZODANGA

As the great gate where I stood swung open my fifty Tharks, headed by

Tars Tarkas himself, rode in upon their mighty thoats. I led them to

the palace walls, which I negotiated easily without assistance. Once

inside, however, the gate gave me considerable trouble, but I finally

was rewarded by seeing it swing upon its huge hinges, and soon my

fierce escort was riding across the gardens of the jeddak of Zodanga.

As we approached the palace I could see through the great windows of

the first floor into the brilliantly illuminated audience chamber of

Than Kosis. The immense hall was crowded with nobles and their women,

as though some important function was in progress. There was not a

guard in sight without the palace, due, I presume, to the fact that the

city and palace walls were considered impregnable, and so I came close

and peered within.

At one end of the chamber, upon massive golden thrones encrusted with

diamonds, sat Than Kosis and his consort, surrounded by officers and

dignitaries of state. Before them stretched a broad aisle lined on

either side with soldiery, and as I looked there entered this aisle at

the far end of the hall, the head of a procession which advanced to the

foot of the throne.

First there marched four officers of the jeddak’s Guard bearing a huge

salver on which reposed, upon a cushion of scarlet silk, a great golden

chain with a collar and padlock at each end. Directly behind these

officers came four others carrying a similar salver which supported the

magnificent ornaments of a prince and princess of the reigning house of

Zodanga.

At the foot of the throne these two parties separated and halted,

facing each other at opposite sides of the aisle. Then came more

dignitaries, and the officers of the palace and of the army, and

finally two figures entirely muffled in scarlet silk, so that not a

feature of either was discernible. These two stopped at the foot of the

throne, facing Than Kosis. When the balance of the procession had

entered and assumed their stations Than Kosis addressed the couple

standing before him. I could not hear his words, but presently two

officers advanced and removed the scarlet robe from one of the figures,

and I saw that Kantos Kan had failed in his mission, for it was Sab

Than, Prince of Zodanga, who stood revealed before me.

Than Kosis now took a set of the ornaments from one of the salvers and

placed one of the collars of gold about his son’s neck, springing the

padlock fast. After a few more words addressed to Sab Than he turned to

the other figure, from which the officers now removed the enshrouding

silks, disclosing to my now comprehending view Dejah Thoris, Princess

of Helium.

The object of the ceremony was clear to me; in another moment Dejah

Thoris would be joined forever to the Prince of Zodanga. It was an

impressive and beautiful ceremony, I presume, but to me it seemed the

most fiendish sight I had ever witnessed, and as the ornaments were

adjusted upon her beautiful figure and her collar of gold swung open in

the hands of Than Kosis I raised my long-sword above my head, and, with

the heavy hilt, I shattered the glass of the great window and sprang

into the midst of the astonished assemblage. With a bound I was on the

steps of the platform beside Than Kosis, and as he stood riveted with

surprise I brought my long-sword down upon the golden chain that would

have bound Dejah Thoris to another.

In an instant all was confusion; a thousand drawn swords menaced me

from every quarter, and Sab Than sprang upon me with a jeweled dagger

he had drawn from his nuptial ornaments. I could have killed him as

easily as I might a fly, but the age-old custom of Barsoom stayed my

hand, and grasping his wrist as the dagger flew toward my heart I held

him as though in a vise and with my long-sword pointed to the far end

of the hall.

“Zodanga has fallen,” I cried. “Look!”

All eyes turned in the direction I had indicated, and there, forging

through the portals of the entranceway rode Tars Tarkas and his fifty

warriors on their great thoats.

A cry of alarm and amazement broke from the assemblage, but no word of

fear, and in a moment the soldiers and nobles of Zodanga were hurling

themselves upon the advancing Tharks.

Thrusting Sab Than headlong from the platform, I drew Dejah Thoris to

my side. Behind the throne was a narrow doorway and in this Than Kosis

now stood facing me, with drawn long-sword. In an instant we were

engaged, and I found no mean antagonist.

As we circled upon the broad platform I saw Sab Than rushing up the

steps to aid his father, but, as he raised his hand to strike, Dejah

Thoris sprang before him and then my sword found the spot that made Sab

Than jeddak of Zodanga. As his father rolled dead upon the floor the

new jeddak tore himself free from Dejah Thoris’ grasp, and again we

faced each other. He was soon joined by a quartet of officers, and,

with my back against a golden throne, I fought once again for Dejah

Thoris. I was hard pressed to defend myself and yet not strike down Sab

Than and, with him, my last chance to win the woman I loved. My blade

was swinging with the rapidity of lightning as I sought to parry the

thrusts and cuts of my opponents. Two I had disarmed, and one was down,

when several more rushed to the aid of their new ruler, and to avenge

the death of the old.

[Illustration: With my back against a golden throne, I fought once

again for Dejah Thoris.]

As they advanced there were cries of “The woman! The woman! Strike her

down; it is her plot. Kill her! Kill her!”

Calling to Dejah Thoris to get behind me I worked my way toward the

little doorway back of the throne, but the officers realized my

intentions, and three of them sprang in behind me and blocked my

chances for gaining a position where I could have defended Dejah Thoris

against an army of swordsmen.

The Tharks were having their hands full in the center of the room, and

I began to realize that nothing short of a miracle could save Dejah

Thoris and myself, when I saw Tars Tarkas surging through the crowd of

pygmies that swarmed about him. With one swing of his mighty longsword

he laid a dozen corpses at his feet, and so he hewed a pathway before

him until in another moment he stood upon the platform beside me,

dealing death and destruction right and left.

The bravery of the Zodangans was awe-inspiring, not one attempted to

escape, and when the fighting ceased it was because only Tharks

remained alive in the great hall, other than Dejah Thoris and myself.

Sab Than lay dead beside his father, and the corpses of the flower of

Zodangan nobility and chivalry covered the floor of the bloody

shambles.

My first thought when the battle was over was for Kantos Kan, and

leaving Dejah Thoris in charge of Tars Tarkas I took a dozen warriors

and hastened to the dungeons beneath the palace. The jailers had all

left to join the fighters in the throne room, so we searched the

labyrinthine prison without opposition.

I called Kantos Kan’s name aloud in each new corridor and compartment,

and finally I was rewarded by hearing a faint response. Guided by the

sound, we soon found him helpless in a dark recess.

He was overjoyed at seeing me, and to know the meaning of the fight,

faint echoes of which had reached his prison cell. He told me that the

air patrol had captured him before he reached the high tower of the

palace, so that he had not even seen Sab Than.

We discovered that it would be futile to attempt to cut away the bars

and chains which held him prisoner, so, at his suggestion I returned to

search the bodies on the floor above for keys to open the padlocks of

his cell and of his chains.

Fortunately among the first I examined I found his jailer, and soon we

had Kantos Kan with us in the throne room.

The sounds of heavy firing, mingled with shouts and cries, came to us

from the city’s streets, and Tars Tarkas hastened away to direct the

fighting without. Kantos Kan accompanied him to act as guide, the green

warriors commencing a thorough search of the palace for other Zodangans

and for loot, and Dejah Thoris and I were left alone.

She had sunk into one of the golden thrones, and as I turned to her she

greeted me with a wan smile.

“Was there ever such a man!” she exclaimed. “I know that Barsoom has

never before seen your like. Can it be that all Earth men are as you?

Alone, a stranger, hunted, threatened, persecuted, you have done in a

few short months what in all the past ages of Barsoom no man has ever

done: joined together the wild hordes of the sea bottoms and brought

them to fight as allies of a red Martian people.”

“The answer is easy, Dejah Thoris,” I replied smiling. “It was not I

who did it, it was love, love for Dejah Thoris, a power that would work

greater miracles than this you have seen.”

A pretty flush overspread her face and she answered,

“You may say that now, John Carter, and I may listen, for I am free.”

“And more still I have to say, ere it is again too late,” I returned.

“I have done many strange things in my life, many things that wiser men

would not have dared, but never in my wildest fancies have I dreamed of

winning a Dejah Thoris for myself—for never had I dreamed that in all

the universe dwelt such a woman as the Princess of Helium. That you are

a princess does not abash me, but that you are you is enough to make me

doubt my sanity as I ask you, my princess, to be mine.”

“He does not need to be abashed who so well knew the answer to his plea

before the plea were made,” she replied, rising and placing her dear

hands upon my shoulders, and so I took her in my arms and kissed her.

And thus in the midst of a city of wild conflict, filled with the

alarms of war; with death and destruction reaping their terrible

harvest around her, did Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, true daughter

of Mars, the God of War, promise herself in marriage to John Carter,

Gentleman of Virginia.

CHAPTER XXVI

THROUGH CARNAGE TO JOY

Sometime later Tars Tarkas and Kantos Kan returned to report that

Zodanga had been completely reduced. Her forces were entirely destroyed

or captured, and no further resistance was to be expected from within.

Several battleships had escaped, but there were thousands of war and

merchant vessels under guard of Thark warriors.

The lesser hordes had commenced looting and quarreling among

themselves, so it was decided that we collect what warriors we could,

man as many vessels as possible with Zodangan prisoners and make for

Helium without further loss of time.

Five hours later we sailed from the roofs of the dock buildings with a

fleet of two hundred and fifty battleships, carrying nearly one hundred

thousand green warriors, followed by a fleet of transports with our

thoats.

Behind us we left the stricken city in the fierce and brutal clutches

of some forty thousand green warriors of the lesser hordes. They were

looting, murdering, and fighting amongst themselves. In a hundred

places they had applied the torch, and columns of dense smoke were

rising above the city as though to blot out from the eye of heaven the

horrid sights beneath.

In the middle of the afternoon we sighted the scarlet and yellow towers

of Helium, and a short time later a great fleet of Zodangan battleships

rose from the camps of the besiegers without the city, and advanced to

meet us.

The banners of Helium had been strung from stem to stern of each of our

mighty craft, but the Zodangans did not need this sign to realize that

we were enemies, for our green Martian warriors had opened fire upon

them almost as they left the ground. With their uncanny marksmanship

they raked the on-coming fleet with volley after volley.

The twin cities of Helium, perceiving that we were friends, sent out

hundreds of vessels to aid us, and then began the first real air battle

I had ever witnessed.

The vessels carrying our green warriors were kept circling above the

contending fleets of Helium and Zodanga, since their batteries were

useless in the hands of the Tharks who, having no navy, have no skill

in naval gunnery. Their small-arm fire, however, was most effective,

and the final outcome of the engagement was strongly influenced, if not

wholly determined, by their presence.

At first the two forces circled at the same altitude, pouring broadside

after broadside into each other. Presently a great hole was torn in the

hull of one of the immense battle craft from the Zodangan camp; with a

lurch she turned completely over, the little figures of her crew

plunging, turning and twisting toward the ground a thousand feet below;

then with sickening velocity she tore after them, almost completely

burying herself in the soft loam of the ancient sea bottom.

A wild cry of exultation arose from the Heliumite squadron, and with

redoubled ferocity they fell upon the Zodangan fleet. By a pretty

maneuver two of the vessels of Helium gained a position above their

adversaries, from which they poured upon them from their keel bomb

batteries a perfect torrent of exploding bombs.

Then, one by one, the battleships of Helium succeeded in rising above

the Zodangans, and in a short time a number of the beleaguering

battleships were drifting hopeless wrecks toward the high scarlet tower

of greater Helium. Several others attempted to escape, but they were

soon surrounded by thousands of tiny individual fliers, and above each

hung a monster battleship of Helium ready to drop boarding parties upon

their decks.

Within but little more than an hour from the moment the victorious

Zodangan squadron had risen to meet us from the camp of the besiegers

the battle was over, and the remaining vessels of the conquered

Zodangans were headed toward the cities of Helium under prize crews.

There was an extremely pathetic side to the surrender of these mighty

fliers, the result of an age-old custom which demanded that surrender

should be signalized by the voluntary plunging to earth of the

commander of the vanquished vessel. One after another the brave

fellows, holding their colors high above their heads, leaped from the

towering bows of their mighty craft to an awful death.

Not until the commander of the entire fleet took the fearful plunge,

thus indicating the surrender of the remaining vessels, did the

fighting cease, and the useless sacrifice of brave men come to an end.

We now signaled the flagship of Helium’s navy to approach, and when she

was within hailing distance I called out that we had the Princess Dejah

Thoris on board, and that we wished to transfer her to the flagship

that she might be taken immediately to the city.

As the full import of my announcement bore in upon them a great cry

arose from the decks of the flagship, and a moment later the colors of

the Princess of Helium broke from a hundred points upon her upper

works. When the other vessels of the squadron caught the meaning of the

signals flashed them they took up the wild acclaim and unfurled her

colors in the gleaming sunlight.

The flagship bore down upon us, and as she swung gracefully to and

touched our side a dozen officers sprang upon our decks. As their

astonished gaze fell upon the hundreds of green warriors, who now came

forth from the fighting shelters, they stopped aghast, but at sight of

Kantos Kan, who advanced to meet them, they came forward, crowding

about him.

Dejah Thoris and I then advanced, and they had no eyes for other than

her. She received them gracefully, calling each by name, for they were

men high in the esteem and service of her grandfather, and she knew

them well.

“Lay your hands upon the shoulder of John Carter,” she said to them,

turning toward me, “the man to whom Helium owes her princess as well as

her victory today.”

They were very courteous to me and said many kind and complimentary

things, but what seemed to impress them most was that I had won the aid

of the fierce Tharks in my campaign for the liberation of Dejah Thoris,

and the relief of Helium.

“You owe your thanks more to another man than to me,” I said, “and here

he is; meet one of Barsoom’s greatest soldiers and statesmen, Tars

Tarkas, Jeddak of Thark.”

With the same polished courtesy that had marked their manner toward me

they extended their greetings to the great Thark, nor, to my surprise,

was he much behind them in ease of bearing or in courtly speech. Though

not a garrulous race, the Tharks are extremely formal, and their ways

lend themselves amazingly to dignified and courtly manners.

Dejah Thoris went aboard the flagship, and was much put out that I

would not follow, but, as I explained to her, the battle was but partly

won; we still had the land forces of the besieging Zodangans to account

for, and I would not leave Tars Tarkas until that had been

accomplished.

The commander of the naval forces of Helium promised to arrange to have

the armies of Helium attack from the city in conjunction with our land

attack, and so the vessels separated and Dejah Thoris was borne in

triumph back to the court of her grandfather, Tardos Mors, Jeddak of

Helium.

In the distance lay our fleet of transports, with the thoats of the

green warriors, where they had remained during the battle. Without

landing stages it was to be a difficult matter to unload these beasts

upon the open plain, but there was nothing else for it, and so we put

out for a point about ten miles from the city and began the task.

It was necessary to lower the animals to the ground in slings and this

work occupied the remainder of the day and half the night. Twice we

were attacked by parties of Zodangan cavalry, but with little loss,

however, and after darkness shut down they withdrew.

As soon as the last thoat was unloaded Tars Tarkas gave the command to

advance, and in three parties we crept upon the Zodangan camp from the

north, the south and the east.

About a mile from the main camp we encountered their outposts and, as

had been prearranged, accepted this as the signal to charge. With wild,

ferocious cries and amidst the nasty squealing of battle-enraged thoats

we bore down upon the Zodangans.

We did not catch them napping, but found a well-entrenched battle line

confronting us. Time after time we were repulsed until, toward noon, I

began to fear for the result of the battle.

The Zodangans numbered nearly a million fighting men, gathered from

pole to pole, wherever stretched their ribbon-like waterways, while

pitted against them were less than a hundred thousand green warriors.

The forces from Helium had not arrived, nor could we receive any word

from them.

Just at noon we heard heavy firing all along the line between the

Zodangans and the cities, and we knew then that our much-needed

reinforcements had come.

Again Tars Tarkas ordered the charge, and once more the mighty thoats

bore their terrible riders against the ramparts of the enemy. At the

same moment the battle line of Helium surged over the opposite

breastworks of the Zodangans and in another moment they were being

crushed as between two millstones. Nobly they fought, but in vain.

The plain before the city became a veritable shambles ere the last

Zodangan surrendered, but finally the carnage ceased, the prisoners

were marched back to Helium, and we entered the greater city’s gates, a

huge triumphal procession of conquering heroes.

The broad avenues were lined with women and children, among which were

the few men whose duties necessitated that they remain within the city

during the battle. We were greeted with an endless round of applause

and showered with ornaments of gold, platinum, silver, and precious

jewels. The city had gone mad with joy.

My fierce Tharks caused the wildest excitement and enthusiasm. Never

before had an armed body of green warriors entered the gates of Helium,

and that they came now as friends and allies filled the red men with

rejoicing.

That my poor services to Dejah Thoris had become known to the

Heliumites was evidenced by the loud crying of my name, and by the

loads of ornaments that were fastened upon me and my huge thoat as we

passed up the avenues to the palace, for even in the face of the

ferocious appearance of Woola the populace pressed close about me.

As we approached this magnificent pile we were met by a party of

officers who greeted us warmly and requested that Tars Tarkas and his

jeds with the jeddaks and jeds of his wild allies, together with

myself, dismount and accompany them to receive from Tardos Mors an

expression of his gratitude for our services.

At the top of the great steps leading up to the main portals of the

palace stood the royal party, and as we reached the lower steps one of

their number descended to meet us.

He was an almost perfect specimen of manhood; tall, straight as an

arrow, superbly muscled and with the carriage and bearing of a ruler of

men. I did not need to be told that he was Tardos Mors, Jeddak of

Helium.

The first member of our party he met was Tars Tarkas and his first

words sealed forever the new friendship between the races.

“That Tardos Mors,” he said, earnestly, “may meet the greatest living

warrior of Barsoom is a priceless honor, but that he may lay his hand

on the shoulder of a friend and ally is a far greater boon.”

“Jeddak of Helium,” returned Tars Tarkas, “it has remained for a man of

another world to teach the green warriors of Barsoom the meaning of

friendship; to him we owe the fact that the hordes of Thark can

understand you; that they can appreciate and reciprocate the sentiments

so graciously expressed.”

Tardos Mors then greeted each of the green jeddaks and jeds, and to

each spoke words of friendship and appreciation.

As he approached me he laid both hands upon my shoulders.

“Welcome, my son,” he said; “that you are granted, gladly, and without

one word of opposition, the most precious jewel in all Helium, yes, on

all Barsoom, is sufficient earnest of my esteem.”

We were then presented to Mors Kajak, Jed of lesser Helium, and father

of Dejah Thoris. He had followed close behind Tardos Mors and seemed

even more affected by the meeting than had his father.

He tried a dozen times to express his gratitude to me, but his voice

choked with emotion and he could not speak, and yet he had, as I was to

later learn, a reputation for ferocity and fearlessness as a fighter

that was remarkable even upon warlike Barsoom. In common with all

Helium he worshiped his daughter, nor could he think of what she had

escaped without deep emotion.

CHAPTER XXVII

FROM JOY TO DEATH

For ten days the hordes of Thark and their wild allies were feasted and

entertained, and, then, loaded with costly presents and escorted by ten

thousand soldiers of Helium commanded by Mors Kajak, they started on

the return journey to their own lands. The jed of lesser Helium with a

small party of nobles accompanied them all the way to Thark to cement

more closely the new bonds of peace and friendship.

Sola also accompanied Tars Tarkas, her father, who before all his

chieftains had acknowledged her as his daughter.

Three weeks later, Mors Kajak and his officers, accompanied by Tars

Tarkas and Sola, returned upon a battleship that had been dispatched to

Thark to fetch them in time for the ceremony which made Dejah Thoris

and John Carter one.

For nine years I served in the councils and fought in the armies of

Helium as a prince of the house of Tardos Mors. The people seemed never

to tire of heaping honors upon me, and no day passed that did not bring

some new proof of their love for my princess, the incomparable Dejah

Thoris.

In a golden incubator upon the roof of our palace lay a snow-white egg.

For nearly five years ten soldiers of the jeddak’s Guard had constantly

stood over it, and not a day passed when I was in the city that Dejah

Thoris and I did not stand hand in hand before our little shrine

planning for the future, when the delicate shell should break.

Vivid in my memory is the picture of the last night as we sat there

talking in low tones of the strange romance which had woven our lives

together and of this wonder which was coming to augment our happiness

and fulfill our hopes.

In the distance we saw the bright-white light of an approaching

airship, but we attached no special significance to so common a sight.

Like a bolt of lightning it raced toward Helium until its very speed

bespoke the unusual.

Flashing the signals which proclaimed it a dispatch bearer for the

jeddak, it circled impatiently awaiting the tardy patrol boat which

must convoy it to the palace docks.

Ten minutes after it touched at the palace a message called me to the

council chamber, which I found filling with the members of that body.

On the raised platform of the throne was Tardos Mors, pacing back and

forth with tense-drawn face. When all were in their seats he turned

toward us.

“This morning,” he said, “word reached the several governments of

Barsoom that the keeper of the atmosphere plant had made no wireless

report for two days, nor had almost ceaseless calls upon him from a

score of capitals elicited a sign of response.

“The ambassadors of the other nations asked us to take the matter in

hand and hasten the assistant keeper to the plant. All day a thousand

cruisers have been searching for him until just now one of them returns

bearing his dead body, which was found in the pits beneath his house

horribly mutilated by some assassin.

“I do not need to tell you what this means to Barsoom. It would take

months to penetrate those mighty walls, in fact the work has already

commenced, and there would be little to fear were the engine of the

pumping plant to run as it should and as they all have for hundreds of

years; but the worst, we fear, has happened. The instruments show a

rapidly decreasing air pressure on all parts of Barsoom—the engine has

stopped.”

“My gentlemen,” he concluded, “we have at best three days to live.”

There was absolute silence for several minutes, and then a young noble

arose, and with his drawn sword held high above his head addressed

Tardos Mors.

“The men of Helium have prided themselves that they have ever shown

Barsoom how a nation of red men should live, now is our opportunity to

show them how they should die. Let us go about our duties as though a

thousand useful years still lay before us.”

The chamber rang with applause and as there was nothing better to do

than to allay the fears of the people by our example we went our ways

with smiles upon our faces and sorrow gnawing at our hearts.

When I returned to my palace I found that the rumor already had reached

Dejah Thoris, so I told her all that I had heard.

“We have been very happy, John Carter,” she said, “and I thank whatever

fate overtakes us that it permits us to die together.”

The next two days brought no noticeable change in the supply of air,

but on the morning of the third day breathing became difficult at the

higher altitudes of the rooftops. The avenues and plazas of Helium were

filled with people. All business had ceased. For the most part the

people looked bravely into the face of their unalterable doom. Here and

there, however, men and women gave way to quiet grief.

Toward the middle of the day many of the weaker commenced to succumb

and within an hour the people of Barsoom were sinking by thousands into

the unconsciousness which precedes death by asphyxiation.

Dejah Thoris and I with the other members of the royal family had

collected in a sunken garden within an inner courtyard of the palace.

We conversed in low tones, when we conversed at all, as the awe of the

grim shadow of death crept over us. Even Woola seemed to feel the

weight of the impending calamity, for he pressed close to Dejah Thoris

and to me, whining pitifully.

The little incubator had been brought from the roof of our palace at

request of Dejah Thoris and she sat gazing longingly upon the unknown

little life that now she would never know.

As it was becoming perceptibly difficult to breathe Tardos Mors arose,

saying,

“Let us bid each other farewell. The days of the greatness of Barsoom

are over. Tomorrow’s sun will look down upon a dead world which through

all eternity must go swinging through the heavens peopled not even by

memories. It is the end.”

He stooped and kissed the women of his family, and laid his strong hand

upon the shoulders of the men.

As I turned sadly from him my eyes fell upon Dejah Thoris. Her head was

drooping upon her breast, to all appearances she was lifeless. With a

cry I sprang to her and raised her in my arms.

Her eyes opened and looked into mine.

“Kiss me, John Carter,” she murmured. “I love you! I love you! It is

cruel that we must be torn apart who were just starting upon a life of

love and happiness.”

As I pressed her dear lips to mine the old feeling of unconquerable

power and authority rose in me. The fighting blood of Virginia sprang

to life in my veins.

“It shall not be, my princess,” I cried. “There is, there must be some

way, and John Carter, who has fought his way through a strange world

for love of you, will find it.”

And with my words there crept above the threshold of my conscious mind

a series of nine long forgotten sounds. Like a flash of lightning in

the darkness their full purport dawned upon me—the key to the three

great doors of the atmosphere plant!

Turning suddenly toward Tardos Mors as I still clasped my dying love to

my breast I cried.

“A flier, Jeddak! Quick! Order your swiftest flier to the palace top. I

can save Barsoom yet.”

He did not wait to question, but in an instant a guard was racing to

the nearest dock and though the air was thin and almost gone at the

rooftop they managed to launch the fastest one-man, air-scout machine

that the skill of Barsoom had ever produced.

Kissing Dejah Thoris a dozen times and commanding Woola, who would have

followed me, to remain and guard her, I bounded with my old agility and

strength to the high ramparts of the palace, and in another moment I

was headed toward the goal of the hopes of all Barsoom.

I had to fly low to get sufficient air to breathe, but I took a

straight course across an old sea bottom and so had to rise only a few

feet above the ground.

I traveled with awful velocity for my errand was a race against time

with death. The face of Dejah Thoris hung always before me. As I turned

for a last look as I left the palace garden I had seen her stagger and

sink upon the ground beside the little incubator. That she had dropped

into the last coma which would end in death, if the air supply remained

unreplenished, I well knew, and so, throwing caution to the winds, I

flung overboard everything but the engine and compass, even to my

ornaments, and lying on my belly along the deck with one hand on the

steering wheel and the other pushing the speed lever to its last notch

I split the thin air of dying Mars with the speed of a meteor.

An hour before dark the great walls of the atmosphere plant loomed

suddenly before me, and with a sickening thud I plunged to the ground

before the small door which was withholding the spark of life from the

inhabitants of an entire planet.

Beside the door a great crew of men had been laboring to pierce the

wall, but they had scarcely scratched the flint-like surface, and now

most of them lay in the last sleep from which not even air would awaken

them.

Conditions seemed much worse here than at Helium, and it was with

difficulty that I breathed at all. There were a few men still

conscious, and to one of these I spoke.

“If I can open these doors is there a man who can start the engines?” I

asked.

“I can,” he replied, “if you open quickly. I can last but a few moments

more. But it is useless, they are both dead and no one else upon

Barsoom knew the secret of these awful locks. For three days men crazed

with fear have surged about this portal in vain attempts to solve its

mystery.”

I had no time to talk, I was becoming very weak and it was with

difficulty that I controlled my mind at all.

But, with a final effort, as I sank weakly to my knees I hurled the

nine thought waves at that awful thing before me. The Martian had

crawled to my side and with staring eyes fixed on the single panel

before us we waited in the silence of death.

Slowly the mighty door receded before us. I attempted to rise and

follow it but I was too weak.

“After it,” I cried to my companion, “and if you reach the pump room

turn loose all the pumps. It is the only chance Barsoom has to exist

tomorrow!”

From where I lay I opened the second door, and then the third, and as I

saw the hope of Barsoom crawling weakly on hands and knees through the

last doorway I sank unconscious upon the ground.

CHAPTER XXVIII

AT THE ARIZONA CAVE

It was dark when I opened my eyes again. Strange, stiff garments were

upon my body; garments that cracked and powdered away from me as I rose

to a sitting posture.

I felt myself over from head to foot and from head to foot I was

clothed, though when I fell unconscious at the little doorway I had

been naked. Before me was a small patch of moonlit sky which showed

through a ragged aperture.

As my hands passed over my body they came in contact with pockets and

in one of these a small parcel of matches wrapped in oiled paper. One

of these matches I struck, and its dim flame lighted up what appeared

to be a huge cave, toward the back of which I discovered a strange,

still figure huddled over a tiny bench. As I approached it I saw that

it was the dead and mummified remains of a little old woman with long

black hair, and the thing it leaned over was a small charcoal burner

upon which rested a round copper vessel containing a small quantity of

greenish powder.

Behind her, depending from the roof upon rawhide thongs, and stretching

entirely across the cave, was a row of human skeletons. From the thong

which held them stretched another to the dead hand of the little old

woman; as I touched the cord the skeletons swung to the motion with a

noise as of the rustling of dry leaves.

It was a most grotesque and horrid tableau and I hastened out into the

fresh air; glad to escape from so gruesome a place.

The sight that met my eyes as I stepped out upon a small ledge which

ran before the entrance of the cave filled me with consternation.

A new heaven and a new landscape met my gaze. The silvered mountains in

the distance, the almost stationary moon hanging in the sky, the

cacti-studded valley below me were not of Mars. I could scarce believe

my eyes, but the truth slowly forced itself upon me—I was looking upon

Arizona from the same ledge from which ten years before I had gazed

with longing upon Mars.

Burying my head in my arms I turned, broken, and sorrowful, down the

trail from the cave.

Above me shone the red eye of Mars holding her awful secret,

forty-eight million miles away.

Did the Martian reach the pump room? Did the vitalizing air reach the

people of that distant planet in time to save them? Was my Dejah Thoris

alive, or did her beautiful body lie cold in death beside the tiny

golden incubator in the sunken garden of the inner courtyard of the

palace of Tardos Mors, the jeddak of Helium?

For ten years I have waited and prayed for an answer to my questions.

For ten years I have waited and prayed to be taken back to the world of

my lost love. I would rather lie dead beside her there than live on

Earth all those millions of terrible miles from her.

The old mine, which I found untouched, has made me fabulously wealthy;

but what care I for wealth!

As I sit here tonight in my little study overlooking the Hudson, just

twenty years have elapsed since I first opened my eyes upon Mars.

I can see her shining in the sky through the little window by my desk,

and tonight she seems calling to me again as she has not called before

since that long dead night, and I think I can see, across that awful

abyss of space, a beautiful black-haired woman standing in the garden

of a palace, and at her side is a little boy who puts his arm around

her as she points into the sky toward the planet Earth, while at their

feet is a huge and hideous creature with a heart of gold.

I believe that they are waiting there for me, and something tells me

that I shall soon know.