Llana of GatholLLANA OF GATHOL
EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS

Contents
Foreword
Book 1: The Ancient Dead
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Book 2: The Black Pirates of Barsoom
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Book 3: Escape on Mars
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Book 4: Invisible Men of Mars
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13
[About this etext] 

FOREWORD
LANIKAI is a district, a beach, a Post Office, and a grocery store. It lies on 
the windward shore of the Island of Oahu. It is a long way from Mars. Its waters 
are blue and beautiful and calm inside its coral reef, and the trade wind 
sighing through the fronds of its coconut palms at night might be the murmuring 
voices of the ghosts of the kings and chieftains who fished in its still waters 
long before the sea captains brought strange diseases or the missionaries 
brought mother-hubbards.
Thoughts of the past, mere vague imaginings, were passing idly through my mind 
one night that I could not sleep and was sitting on the lanai watching the white 
maned chargers of the sea racing shoreward beneath the floodlight of the Moon. I 
saw the giant kings of old Hawaii and their mighty chiefs clothed in feather 
cape and helmet. Kamehameha came, the great conqueror, towering above them all. 
Down from the Nuuanu Pali he came in great strides, stepping over cane fields 
and houses. The hem of his feather cape caught on the spire of a church, 
toppling it to the ground. He stepped on low, soft ground; and when he lifted 
his foot, the water of a slough rushed into his footprint, and there was a lake.
I was much interested in the coming of Kamehameha the King, for I had always 
admired him; though I had never expected to see him, he having been dead a 
matter of a hundred years or so and his bones buried in a holy, secret place 
that no man knows. However, I was not at all surprised to see him. What 
surprised me was that I was not surprised. I distinctly recall this reaction. I 
also recall that I hoped he would see me and not step on me.
While I was thinking these thoughts, Kamehameha stopped in front of me and 
looked down at me. "Well, well!" he said; "asleep on a beautiful night like 
this! I am surprised."
I blinked my eyes hard and looked again. There before me stood indeed a warrior 
strangely garbed, but it was not King Kamehameha. Under the moonlight one's eyes 
sometimes play strange tricks on one. I blinked mine again, but the warrior did 
not vanish. Then I knew!
Leaping to my feet, I extended my hand. "John Carter!" I exclaimed.
"Let's see," he said; "where was it we met last – the headwaters of the Little 
Colorado or Tarzana?"
"The headwaters of the Little Colorado in Arizona, I think," I said. "That was a 
long time ago. I never expected to see you again."
"No, I never expected to return."
"Why have you? It must be something important."
"Nothing of Cosmic importance," he said, smiling; "but important to me, 
nevertheless. You see, I wanted to see you."
"I appreciate that," I said.
"You see, you are the last of my Earthly kin whom I know personally. Every once 
in a while I feel an urge to see you and visit with you, and at long intervals I 
am able to satisfy that urge – as now. After you are dead, and it will not be 
long now, I shall have no Earthly ties – no reason to return to the scenes of my 
former life."
"There are my children." I reminded him. "They are your blood kin."
"Yes," he said, "I know; but they might be afraid of me. After all, I might be 
considered something of a ghost by Earth men."
"Not by my children," I assured him. "They know you quite as well as I. After I 
am gone, see them occasionally."
He nodded. "Perhaps I shall," he half promised.
"And now," I said, "tell me something of yourself, of Mars, of Dejah Thoris, of 
Carthoris and Thuvia and of Tara of Helium. Let me see! It was Gahan of Gathol 
that Tara of Helium wed."
"Yes," replied the war lord, "it was Gahan, Jed of the free city of Gathol. They 
have a daughter, one whose character and whose beauty are worthy of her mother 
and her mother's mother – a beauty which, like that of those other two, hurled 
nations at each other's throats in war. Perhaps you would like to hear the story 
of Llana of Gathol."
I said that I would, and this is the story that he told me that night beneath 
the coconut palms of Oahu.

LLANA OF GATHOL
BOOK 1
THE ANCIENT DEAD
1
NO MATTER how instinctively gregarious one may be there are times when one longs 
for solitude. I like people. I like to be with my family, my friends, my 
fighting men; and probably just because I am so keen for companionship, I am at 
times equally keen to be alone. It is at such times that I can best resolve the 
knotty problems of government in times of war or peace. It is then that I can 
meditate upon all the various aspects of a full life such as I lead; and, being 
human, I have plenty of mistakes upon which to meditate that I may fortify 
myself against their recommission.
When I feel that strange urge for solitude coming over me, it is my usual custom 
to take a one man flier and range the dead sea bottoms and the other uninhabited 
wildernesses of this dying planet; for there indeed is solitude. There are vast 
areas on Mars where no human foot has ever trod, and other vast areas that for 
thousands of years have known only the giant green men, the wandering nomads of 
the ocher deserts.
Sometimes I am away for weeks on these glorious adventures in solitude. Because 
of them, I probably know more of the geography and topography of Mars than any 
other living man; for they and my other adventurous excursions upon the planet 
have carried me from the Lost Sea of Korus, in the Valley Dor at the frozen 
South to Okar, land of the black bearded Yellow Men of the frozen North, and 
from Kaol to Bantoom; and yet there are many parts of Barsoom that I have not 
visited, which will not seem so strange when there is taken into consideration 
the fact that although the area of Mars is like more than one fourth that of 
Earth its land area is almost eight million square miles greater. That is 
because Barsoom has no large bodies of surface water, its largest known ocean 
being entirely subterranean. Also, I think you will admit, fifty-six million 
square miles is a lot of territory to know thoroughly.
Upon the occasion of which I am about to tell you I flew northwest from Helium, 
which lies 30° south of the Equator which I crossed about sixteen hundred miles 
east of Exum, the Barsoomian Greenwich. North and west of me lay a vast, almost 
unexplored region; and there I thought to find the absolute solitude for which I 
craved.
I had set my directional compass upon Horz, the long deserted city of ancient 
Barsoomian culture, and loafed along at seventy-five miles an hour at an 
altitude of five hundred to a thousand feet. I had seen some green men northeast 
of Torquas and had been forced up to escape their fire, which I did not return 
as I was not seeking adventure; and I had crossed two thin ribbons of red 
Martian farm land bordering canals that bring the precious waters from the 
annually melting ice caps at the poles. Beyond these I saw no signs of human 
life in all the five thousand miles that lie between Lesser Helium and Horz.
It is always a little saddening to me to look down thus upon a dying world, to 
scan the endless miles of ocher, mosslike vegetation which carpets the vast 
areas where once rolled the mighty oceans of a young and virile Mars, to ponder 
that just beneath me once ranged the proud navies and the merchant ships of a 
dozen rich and powerful nations where today the fierce banth roams a solitude 
whose silence is unbroken except for the roars of the killer and the screams of 
the dying.
At night I slept, secure in the knowledge that my directional compass would hold 
a true course for Horz and always at the altitude for which I had set it – a 
thousand feet, not above sea level but above the terrain over which the ship was 
passing. These amazing little instruments may be set for any point upon Barsoom 
and at any altitude. If one is set for a thousand feet, as mine was upon this 
occasion, it will not permit the ship to come closer than a thousand feet to any 
object, thus eliminating even the danger of collision; and when the ship reaches 
its objective the compass will stop it a thousand feet above. The pilot whose 
ship is equipped with one of these directional compasses does not even have to 
remain awake; thus I could travel day and night without danger.
It was about noon of the third day that I sighted the towers of ancient Horz. 
The oldest part of the city lies upon the edge of a vast plateau; the newer 
portions, and they are countless thousands of years old, are terraced downward 
into a great gulf, marking the hopeless pursuit of the receding sea upon the 
shores of which this rich and powerful city once stood. The last poor, mean 
structures of a dying race have either disappeared or are only mouldering ruins 
now; but the splendid structures of her prime remain at the edge of the plateau, 
mute but eloquent reminders of her vanished grandeur – enduring monuments to the 
white-skinned, fair-haired race which has vanished forever.
I am always interested in these deserted cities of ancient Mars. Little is known 
of their inhabitants, other than what can be gathered from the stories told by 
the carvings which ornament the exteriors of many of their public buildings and 
the few remaining murals which have withstood the ravages of time and the 
vandalism of the green hordes which have overrun many of them. The extremely low 
humidity has helped to preserve them, but more than all else was the permanency 
of their construction. These magnificent edifices were built not for years but 
for eternities. The secrets of their mortars, their cements, and their pigments 
have been lost for ages; and for countless ages more, long after the last life 
has disappeared from the face of Barsoom, their works will remain, hurtling 
through space forever upon a dead, cold planet with no eye to see, with no mind 
to appreciate. It is a sad thing to contemplate.
At last I was over Horz. I had for long promised myself that some day I should 
come here, for Horz is, perhaps, the oldest and the greatest of the dead cities 
of Barsoom. Water built it, the lack of water spelled its doom. I often wonder 
if the people of Earth, who have water in such abundance, really appreciate it. 
I wonder if the inhabitants of New York City realize what it would mean to them 
if some enemy, establishing an air base within cruising radius of the first city 
of the New World, should successfully bomb and destroy Croton Dam and the 
Catskill water system. The railroads and the highways would be jammed with 
refugees, millions would die, and for years, perhaps forever, New York City 
would cease to be.
As I floated lazily above the deserted city I saw figures moving in a plaza 
below me. So Horz was not entirely deserted! My curiosity piqued, I dropped a 
little lower; and what I saw dashed thoughts of solitude from my mind – a lone 
red man beset by half a dozen fierce green warriors.
I had not sought adventure, but here it was; for no man worthy of his metal 
would abandon one of his own kind in such a dire extremity. I saw a spot where I 
might land in a nearby plaza; and, praying that the green men would be too 
engrossed with their engagement to note my approach, I dove quickly and silently 
toward a landing.
2
Fortunately I landed unobserved, screened by a mighty tower which rose beside 
the plaza I had selected. I had seen that they were fighting with long-swords, 
and so I drew mine as I ran in the direction of the unequal struggle. That the 
red man lived even a few moments against such odds bespoke the excellence of his 
swordsmanship, and I hoped that he would hold out until I reached him; for then 
he would have the best sword arm in all Barsoom to aid him and the sword that 
had tasted the blood of a thousand enemies the length and breadth of a world.
I found my way from the plaza in which I had landed, but only to be confronted 
by a twenty-foot wall in which I could perceive no opening. Doubtless there was 
one, I knew; but in the time that I might waste in finding it my man might 
easily be killed.
The clash of swords, the imprecations, and the grunts of fighting men came to me 
distinctly from the opposite side of the wall which barred my way. I could even 
hear the heavy breathing of the fighters. I heard the green men demand the 
surrender of their quarry and his taunting reply. I liked what he said and the 
way he said it in the face of death.
My knowledge of the ways of the green men assured me that they would try to 
capture him for purposes of torture rather than kill him outright, but if I were 
to save him from either fate I must act quickly.
There was only one way to reach him without loss of time, and that way was open 
to me because of the lesser gravitation of Mars and my great Earthly strength 
and agility. I would simply jump to the top of the wall, take a quick survey of 
the lay of the land beyond, and then drop down, long-sword in hand, and take my 
place at the side of the red man.
When I exert myself, I can jump to incredible heights. Twenty feet is nothing, 
but this time I miscalculated. I was several yards from the wall when I took a 
short run and leaped into the air. Instead of alighting on the top of the wall, 
as I had planned, I soared completely over it, clearing it by a good ten feet.
Below me were the fighters. Apparently I was going to land right in their midst. 
So engrossed were they in their sword play that they did not notice me; and that 
was well for me; as one of the green men could easily have impaled me on his 
sword as I dropped upon them.
My man was being hard pressed. It was evident that the green men had given up 
the notion of capturing him, and were trying to finish him off. One of them had 
him at a disadvantage and was about to plunge a longsword through him when I 
alighted. By rare good luck I alighted squarely upon the back of the man who was 
about to kill the red man, and I alighted with the point of my sword protruding 
straight below me. It caught him in the left shoulder and passed downward 
through his heart, and even before he collapsed I had planted both feet upon his 
shoulders; and, straightening up, withdrawn my blade from his carcass.
For a moment my amazing advent threw them all off their guard, and in that 
moment I leaped to the side of the red man and faced his remaining foes, the red 
blood of a green warrior dripping from my point.
The red man threw a quick glance at me; and then the remaining green men were 
upon us, and there was no time for words. A fellow swung at me and missed. Gad! 
what a blow he swung! Had it connected I should have been as headless as a 
rykor. It was unfortunate for the green man that it did not, for mine did. I cut 
horizontally with all my Earthly strength, which is great on Earth and 
infinitely greater on Mars. My longsword, its edge as keen as a razor and its 
steel such as only Barsoom produces, passed entirely through the body of my 
antagonist, cutting him in two.
"Well done!" exclaimed the red man, and again he cast a quick glance at me.
From the corner of my eye I caught an occasional glimpse of my unknown comrade, 
and I saw some marvelous swordsmanship. I was proud to fight at the side of such 
a man. By now we had reduced the number of our antagonists to three. They fell 
back a few steps, dropping their points, just for a breathing spell. I neither 
needed nor desired a breathing spell; but, glancing at my companion, I saw that 
he was pretty well exhausted; so I dropped my point too and waited.
It was then that I got my first good look at the man whose cause I had espoused; 
and I got a shock, too. This was no red man, but a white man if I have ever seen 
one. His skin was bronzed by exposure to the sun, as is mine; and that had at 
first deceived me. But now I saw that there was nothing red-Martian about him. 
His harness, his weapons, everything about him differed from any that I had seen 
on Mars.
He wore a headdress, which is quite unusual upon Barsoom. It consisted of a 
leather band that ran around the head just above his brows, with another leather 
band crossing his from right to left and a second from front to rear. These 
bands were highly ornamented with carving and set with jewels and precious 
metals. To the center of the band that crossed his forehead was affixed a flat 
piece of gold in the shape of a spearhead with the point up. This, also, was 
beautifully carved and bore a strange device inlaid in red and black.
Confined by this headdress was a shock of blond hair – a most amazing thing to 
see upon Mars. At first I jumped to the conclusion that he must be a thern from 
the far south-polar land; but that thought I discarded at once when I realized 
that the hair was his own. The therns are entirely bald and wear great yellow 
wigs.
I also saw that my companion was strangely handsome. I might say beautiful were 
it not for the effeminateness which the word connotes, and there was nothing 
effeminate about the way this man fought or the mighty oaths that he swore when 
he spoke at all to an adversary. We fighting men are not given to much talk, but 
when you feel your blade cleave a skull in twain or drive through the heart of a 
foeman, then sometimes a great oath is wrenched from your lips.
But I had little time then to appraise my companion, for the remaining three 
were at us again in a moment. I fought that day, I suppose, as I have always 
fought; but each time it seems to me that I have never fought so well as upon 
that particular occasion. I do not take great credit for my fighting ability, 
for it seems to me that my sword is inspired. No man could think as quickly as 
my point moves, always to the right spot at the right time, as though 
anticipating the next move of an adversary. It weaves a net of steel about me 
that few blades have ever pierced. It fills the foeman's eyes with amazement and 
his mind with doubt and his heart with fear. I imagine that much of my success 
has been due to the psychological effect of my swordsmanship upon my 
adversaries.
Simultaneously my companion and I each struck down an antagonist, and then the 
remaining warrior turned to flee. "Do not let him escape!" cried my 
comrade-in-arms, and leaped in pursuit, at the same time calling loudly for 
help, something he had not done when close to death before the points of six 
swords. But whom did he expect to answer his appeal in this dead and deserted 
city? Why did he call for help when the last of his antagonists was in full 
flight? I was puzzled; but having enlisted myself in this strange adventure, I 
felt that I should see it through; and so I set off in pursuit of the fleeing 
green man.
He crossed the courtyard where we had been engaged and made for a great archway 
that opened out into a broad avenue. I was close behind him, having outstripped 
both him and the strange warrior. When I came into the avenue I saw the green 
man leap to the back of one of six thoats waiting there, and at the same time I 
saw at least a hundred warriors pouring from a nearby building. They were 
yellow-haired white men, garbed like my erstwhile fighting companion, who now 
joined in the pursuit of the green man. They were armed with bows and arrows; 
and they sent a volley of missiles after the escaping quarry, whom they could 
never hope to overtake, and who was soon out of range of their weapons.
The spirit of adventure is so strong within me that I often yield to its demands 
in spite of the dictates of my better judgment. This matter was no affair of 
mine. I had already done all, and even more than could have been expected of me; 
yet I leaped to the back of one of the remaining thoats and took off in pursuit 
of the green warrior.
3
There are two species of thoat on Mars: the small, comparatively docile breed 
used by the red Martians as saddle animals and, to a lesser extent, as beasts of 
burden on the farms that border the great irrigation canals; and then there are 
the huge, vicious, unruly beasts that the green warriors use exclusively as 
steeds of war.
These creatures tower fully ten feet at the shoulder. They have four legs on 
either side and a broad, flat tail, larger at the tip than at the root, that 
they hold straight out behind while running. Their gaping mouths split their 
heads from their snouts to their long, massive necks. Their bodies, the upper 
portion of which is a dark slate color and exceedingly smooth and glossy, are 
entirely devoid of hair. Their bellies are white, and their legs shade gradually 
from the slate color of their bodies to a vivid yellow at the feet, which are 
heavily padded and nailless.
The thoat of the green man has the most abominable disposition of any creature I 
have ever seen, not even the green men themselves excepted. They are constantly 
fighting among themselves, and woe betide the rider who loses control of his 
terrible mount; yet, paradoxical as it may appear, they are ridden without 
bridle or bit; and are controlled solely by telepathic means, which, fortunately 
for me, I learned many ago while I was prisoner of Lorquas Ptomel, jed of the 
Tharks, a green Martian horde.
The beast to whose back I had vaulted was a vicious devil, and he took violent 
exception to me and probably to my odor. He tried to buck me off; and, failing 
that, reached back with his huge, gaping jaws in an effort to seize me.
There is, I might mention, an auxiliary method of control when these ugly beasts 
become recalcitrant; and I adopted it in this instance, notwithstanding the fact 
that I had won grudging approval from the fierce green Tharks by controlling 
thoats through patience and kindness. I had time for neither now, as my quarry 
was racing along the broad avenue that led to the ancient quays of Horz and the 
vast dead sea bottoms beyond; so I laid heavily upon the head and snout of the 
beast with the flat of my broadsword until I had beaten it into subjection; then 
it obeyed my telepathic commands, and set out at great speed in pursuit.
It was a very swift thoat, one of the swiftest that I had ever bestrode; and, in 
addition, it carried much less weight than the beast we sought to overtake; so 
we closed up rapidly on the escaping green man.
At the very edge of the plateau upon which the old city was built we caught up 
with him, and there he stopped and wheeled his mount and prepared to give 
battle. It was then that I began to appreciate the marvelous intelligence of my 
mount. Almost without direction from me be maneuvered into the correct positions 
to give me an advantage in this savage duel, and when at last I had achieved a 
sudden advantage which had almost unseated my rival, my thoat rushed like a mad 
devil upon the thoat of the green warrior tearing at its throat with his mighty 
jaws while he tried to beat it to its knees with the weight of his savage 
assault.
It was then that I gave the coup de grace to my beaten and bloody adversary; 
and, leaving him where he had fallen, rode back to receive the plaudits and the 
thanks of my newfound friends.
They were waiting for me, a hundred of them, in what had probably once been a 
public market place in the ancient city of Horz. They were not smiling. They 
looked sad. As I dismounted, they crowded around me.
"Did the green man escape?" demanded one whose ornaments and metal proclaimed 
him a leader.
"No," I replied; "he is dead."
A great sigh of relief arose from a hundred throats. Just why they should feel 
such relief that a single green man had been killed I did not then understand.
They thanked me, crowding around me as they did so; and stiff they were 
unsmiling and sad. I suddenly realized that these people were not friendly – it 
came to me intuitively, but too late. They were pushing against me from all 
sides, so that I could not even raise an arm, and then, quite suddenly at a word 
from their leader, I was disarmed.
"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded. "Of my own volition I came to the aid 
of one of your people who would otherwise have been killed. Is this the thanks I 
am to receive? Give me back my weapons and let me go."
"I am sorry," said he who had first spoken, "but we cannot – do otherwise. Pan 
Dan Chee, to whose aid you came, has pleaded that we permit you to go your way; 
but such is not the law of Horz. I must take you to Ho Ran Kim, the great jeddak 
of Horz. There we will all plead for you, but our pleas will be unavailing. In 
the end you will be destroyed. The safety of Horz is more important than the 
life of any man."
"I am not threatening the safety of Horz," I replied. "Why should I have designs 
upon a dead city, which is of absolutely no importance to the Empire of Helium, 
in the service of whose Jeddak, Tardos Mors, I wear the harness of a war lord."
"I am sorry," exclaimed Pan Dan Chee, who had pushed his way to my side through 
the press of warriors. "I called to you when you mounted the thoat and pursued 
the green warrior and told you not to return, but evidently you did not hear me. 
For that I may die, but I shall die proudly. I sought to influence Lan Sohn Wen, 
who commands this utan, to permit you to escape, but in vain. I shall intercede 
for you with Ho Ran Kim, the jeddak; but I am afraid that there is no hope."
"Come!" said Lan Sohn Wen; "we have wasted enough time here. We will take the 
prisoner to the jeddak. By the way, what is your name?"
"I am John Carter, a Prince of Helium and Warlord of Barsoom," I replied.
"A proud title, that last," he said; "but of Helium I have never heard."
"If harm befalls me here," I said, "you'll hear of Helium if Helium ever 
learns."
I was escorted through still magnificent avenues flanked by beautiful buildings, 
still beautiful in decay. I think I have never seen such inspiring architecture, 
nor construction so enduring. I do not know how old these buildings are, but I 
have heard Martian savants argue that the original dominant race of 
white-skinned, yellow-haired people flourished fully a million years ago. It 
seems incredible that their works should still exist; but there are many things 
on Mars incredible to the narrow, earthbound men of our little speck of dust.
At last we halted before a tiny gate in a colossal, fortress-like edifice in 
which there was no other opening than this small gate for fifty feet above the 
ground. From a balcony fifty feet above the gate a sentry looked down upon us. 
"Who comes?" he demanded, although he could doubtless see who came, and must 
have recognized Lan Sohn Wen.
"It is Lan Sohn Wen, Dwar, commanding the 1st Utan of The Jeddak's Guard, with a 
prisoner," replied Lan Sohn Wen.
The sentry appeared bewildered. "My orders are to admit no strangers," he said, 
"but to kill them immediately."
"Summon the commander of the guard," snapped Lan Sohn Wen, and presently an 
officer came onto the balcony with the sentry.
"What is this?" he demanded. "No prisoner has ever been brought into the citadel 
of Horz. You know the law."
"This is an emergency," said Lan Sohn Wen. "I must bring this man before Ho Ran 
Kim. Open the gate!"
"Only on orders from Ho Ran Kim himself," replied the commander of the guard.
"Then go get the orders," said Lan Sohn Wen. "Tell the Jeddak that I strongly 
urge him to receive me with this prisoner. He is not as other prisoners who have 
fallen into our hands in times past."
The officer re-entered the citadel and was gone for perhaps fifteen minutes when 
the little gate before which we stood swung outward, and we were motioned in by 
the commander of the guard himself.
"The Jeddak will receive you," he said to the dwar, Lan Sohn Wen.
The citadel was an enormous walled city within the ancient city of Horz. It was 
quite evidently impregnable to any but attack by air. Within were pleasant 
avenues, homes, gardens, shops. Happy, carefree people stopped to look at me in 
astonishment as I was conducted down a broad boulevard toward a handsome 
building. It was the palace of the Jeddak, Ho Ran Kim. A sentry stood upon 
either side of the portal. There was no other guard; and these two were there 
more as a formality and as messengers than for protection, for within the walls 
of the citadel no man needed protection from another; as I was to learn.
We were detained in an ante room for a few minutes while we were being 
announced, and then we were ushered down a long corridor and into a medium size 
room where a man sat at a desk alone. This was Ho Ran Kim, Jeddak of Horz. His 
skin was not as tanned as that of his warriors, but his hair was just as yellow 
and his eyes as blue.
I felt those blue eyes appraising me as I approached his desk. They were kindly 
eyes, but with a glint of steel. From me they passed to Lan Sohn Wen, and to him 
Ho Ran Kim spoke.
"This is most unusual," he said in a quiet, well modulated voice. "You know, do 
you not, that Horzans have died for less than this?"
"I do, my Jeddak," replied the dwar; "but this is a most unusual emergency."
"Explain yourself," said the Jeddak.
Let me explain," interrupted Pan Dan Chee, "for after all the responsibility is 
mine. I urged this action upon Lan Sohn Wen."
The Jeddak nodded. "Proceed," he said.
4
I couldn't comprehend why they were making such an issue of bringing in a 
prisoner, nor why men had died for less, as Ho Ran Kim had reminded Lan Sohn 
Wen. In Helium, a warrior would have received at least commendation for bringing 
in a prisoner. For bringing in John Carter, Warlord of Mars, a common warrior 
might easily have been ennobled by an enemy prince.
"My Jeddak," commenced Pan Dan Chee, "while I was beset by six green warriors, 
this man, who says he is known as John Carter, Warlord of Barsoom, came of his 
own volition to fight at my side. From whence he came I do not know. I only know 
that at one moment I was fighting alone, a hopeless fight, and that at the next 
there fought at my side the greatest swordsman Horz has ever seen. He did not 
have to come; he could have left at any time, but he remained; and because he 
remained I am alive and the last of the six green warriors lies dead by the 
ancient waterfront. He would have escaped had not John Carter leaped to the back 
of a great thoat and pursued him.
"Then this man could have escaped, but he came back. He fought for a soldier of 
Horz. He trusted the men of Horz. Are we to repay him with death?"
Pan Dan Chee ceased speaking, and Ho Ran Kim turned his blue eyes upon me. "John 
Carter," he said, "what you have done commands the respect and sympathy of every 
man of Horz. It wins the thanks of their Jeddak, but–" He hesitated. "Perhaps if 
I tell you something of our history, you will understand why I must condemn you 
to death." He paused for a moment, as though in thought.
At the same time I was doing a little thinking on my own account The casual 
manner in which Ho Ran Kim had sentenced me to death had rather taken my breath 
away. He seemed so friendly that it didn't seem possible that he was in earnest, 
but a glance at the glint in those blue eyes assured me that he was not being 
facetious.
"I am sure," I said, "that the history of Horz must be most interesting; but 
right now I am most interested in learning why I should have to die for 
befriending a fighting man of Horz." 
"That I shall explain," he said.
"It is going to take a great deal of explaining, your majesty," I assured him.
He paid no attention to that, but continued. "The inhabitants of Horz are, as 
far as we know, the sole remaining remnant of the once dominant race of Barsoom, 
the Orovars. A million years ago our ships ranged the five great oceans, which 
we ruled. The city of Horz was not only the capital of a great empire, it was 
the seat of learning and culture of the most glorious race of human beings a 
world has ever known. Our empire spread from pole to pole. There were other 
races on Barsoom, but they were few in numbers and negligible in importance. We 
looked upon them as inferior creatures. The Orovars owned Barsoom, which was 
divided among a score of powerful jeddaks. They were a happy, prosperous, 
contented people, the various nations seldom warring upon one another. Horz had 
enjoyed a thousand years of peace.
"They had reached the ultimate pinnacle of civilization and perfection when the 
first shadow of impending fate darkened their horizon – the seas began to 
recede, the atmosphere to grow more tenuous. What science had long predicted was 
coming to pass – a world was dying.
"For ages our cities followed the receding waters. Straits and bays, canals and 
lakes dried up. Prosperous seaports became deserted inland cities. Famine came. 
Hungry hordes made war upon the more fortunate. The growing hordes of wild green 
men overran what had once been fertile farm land, preying upon all.
"The atmosphere became so tenuous that it was difficult to breathe. Scientists 
were working upon an atmosphere plant, but before it was completed and in 
successful operation all but a few of the inhabitants of Barsoom had died. Only 
the hardiest survived – the green men, the red men, and a few Orovars; then life 
became merely a battle for the survival of the fittest.
"The green men hunted us as we had hunted beasts of prey. They gave us no rest, 
they showed us no mercy. We were few; they were many. Horz became our last city 
of refuge, and our only hope of survival lay in preventing the outside world 
from knowing that we existed; therefore, for ages we have slain every stranger 
who came to Horz and saw an Orovar, that no man might go away and betray our 
presence to our enemies.
"Now you will understand that no matter how deeply we must regret the necessity, 
it is obvious that we cannot let you live."
"I can understand," I said, "that you might feel it necessary to destroy an 
enemy; but I see no reason for destroying a friend. However, that is for you to 
decide."
"It is already decided, my friend," said the Jeddak. "You must die."
"Just a moment, O Jeddak!" exclaimed Pan Dan Chee. "Before you pass final 
judgment, consider this alternative. If he remains here in Horz, he cannot carry 
word to our enemies. We owe him a debt of gratitude. Permit him then to live, 
but always within the walls of the citadel."
There were nods of approval from the others present, and I saw by his quickly 
darting eyes that Ho Ran Kim had noticed them. He cleared his throat. "Perhaps 
that is something that should be given thought," he said. "I shall reserve 
judgment until the morrow. I do so largely because of my love for you, Pan Dan 
Chee; inasmuch as, because it was due to your importunities that this man is 
here, you must suffer whatever fate is ordained for him."
Pan Dan Chee was certainly surprised, nor could he hide the fact; but he took 
the blow like a man. "I shall consider it an honor," he said, "to share any fate 
that may be meted to John Carter, Warlord of Barsoom."
"Well said, Pan Dan Chee!" exclaimed the Jeddak. "My admiration for you 
increases as does the bitterness of my sorrow when I contemplate the almost 
inescapable conviction that on the morrow you die."
Pan Dan Chee bowed. "I thank your majesty for your deep concern," he said. "The 
remembrance of it will glorify last my hours."
The Jeddak turned his eyes upon Lan Sohn Wen, and held them them for what seemed 
a full minute. I would have laid ten to one that Ho Ran Kim was about to cause 
himself further untold grief by condemning Lan Sohn Wen to death. I think Lan 
Sohn Wen thought the same thing. He looked worried.
"Lan Sohn Wen," said Ho Ran Kim, "you will conduct these two to the pits and 
leave them there for the night. See that they have good food and every possible 
comfort, for they are my honored guests."
"But the pits, your majesty!" exclaimed Lan Sohn Wen. "They have never been used 
within the memory of man. I do not even know that I can find the entrance to 
them."
"That is so," said Ho Ran Kim, thoughtfully. "Even if you found them they might 
prove very dirty and uncomfortable. Perhaps it would be kinder to destroy John 
Carter and Pan Dan Chee at once."
"Wait, majesty," said Pan Dan Chee. "I know where lies the entrance to the pits. 
I have been in them. They can easily be made most comfortable. I would not think 
of altering your plans or causing you immediately the deep grief of sorrowing 
over the untimely passing of John Carter and myself. Come, Lan Sohn Wen! I will 
lead the way to the pits of Horz!"
5
It was a good thing for me that Pan Dan Chee was a fast talker. Before Ho Ran 
Kim could formulate any objections we were out of the audience chamber and on 
our way to the pits of Horz, and I can tell you that I was glad to be out of 
sight of that kindly and considerate tyrant. There was no telling when some new 
humanitarian urge might influence him to order our heads lopped off instanter.
The entrance to the pits of Horz was in a small, windowless building near the 
rear wall of the citadel. It was closed by massive gates that creaked on 
corroded hinges as two of the warriors who had accompanied us pushed them open.
"It is dark in there," said Pan Dan Chee. "We'll break our necks without a 
light."
Lan Sohn Wen, being a good fellow, sent one of his men for some torches; and 
when he returned, Pan Dan Chee and I entered the gloomy cavern.
We had taken but a few steps toward the head of a rock hewn ramp that ran 
downward into Stygian darkness, when Lan Sohn Wen cried, "Wait! Where is the key 
to these gates?"
"The keeper of the keys of some great jeddak who lived thousands of years ago 
may have known," replied Pan Dan Chee, "but I don't."
"But how am I going to lock you in?" demanded Lan Sohn Wen.
"The Jeddak didn't tell you to lock us in," said Pan Dan Chee. "He said to take 
us to the pits and leave us there for the night. I distinctly recall his very 
words."
Lan Sohn Wen was in a quandary, but at last he hit upon an avenue of escape. 
"Come," he said, "I shall take you back to the Jeddak and explain that there are 
no keys; then it will be up to him."
"And you know what he will do!" said Pan Dan Chee.
"What?" asked Lan Sohn Wen.
"He will order us destroyed at once. Come, Lan Sohn Wen, do not condemn us to 
immediate death. Post a guard here at the gates, with orders to kill us if we 
try to escape."
Lan Sohn Wen considered this for a moment, and finally nodded his head in 
acquiescence. "That is an excellent plan," he said, and then he detailed two 
warriors to stand guard; and arranged for their relief, after which he wished us 
good night and departed with his warriors.
I have never seen such courteous and considerate people as the Orovars; it might 
almost be a pleasure to have one's throat slit by one of them, he would be so 
polite about it. They are the absolute opposites of their hereditary enemies, 
the green men; for these are endowed with neither courtesy, consideration, nor 
kindness. They are cold, cruel, abysmal brutes to whom love is unknown and whose 
creed is hate. Nevertheless, the pits of Horz was not a pleasant place. The dust 
of ages lay upon the ramp down which we walked. From its end a corridor 
stretched away beyond the limits of our torchlight. It was a wide corridor, with 
doors opening from it on either side. These, I presumed, were the dungeons where 
ancient jeddaks had confined their enemies. I asked Pan Dan Chee.
"Probably," he said, "though our jeddaks have never used them."
"Have they never had enemies?" I asked.
"Certainly, but they have considered it cruel to imprison men in dark holes like 
this; so they have always destroyed them immediately they were suspected of 
being enemies."
"Then why are the pits here?" I demanded.
"Oh, they were built when the city was built, perhaps a million years ago, 
perhaps more. It just chanced that the citadel was built around the entrance."
I glanced into one of the dungeons. A mouldering skeleton lay upon the floor, 
the rusted irons that had secured it to the wall lying among its bones. In the 
next dungeon were three skeletons and two magnificently carved, metal bound 
chests. As Pan Dan Chee raised the lid of one of them I could scarce repress a 
gasp of astonishment and admiration. Tje chest was filled with magnificent gems 
in settings of elaborate beauty, specimens of forgotten arts, the handicraft of 
master craftsmen who had lived a million years ago. I think that nothing that I 
had ever seen before had so impressed me. And it was depressing, for these 
jewels had been worn by lovely women and brave men who had disappeared into an 
oblivion so complete that not even a memory of them remained.
My reverie was interrupted by the sound of shuffling feet behind me. I wheeled; 
and, instinctively, my hand flew to where the hilt of a sword should have been 
but was not. Facing me, and ready to spring upon me, was the largest ulsio I had 
ever seen.
These Martian rats are fierce and unlovely things. They are many legged and 
hairless, their hide resembling that of a new-born mouse in repulsiveness. Their 
eyes are small and close set and almost hidden in deep, fleshy apertures. Their 
most ferocious and repulsive features, however, are their jaws, the entire bony 
structure of which protrudes several inches beyond the flesh, revealing five 
sharp, spadelike teeth in each jaw, the whole suggesting the appearance of a 
rotting face from which much of the flesh has sloughed away. Ordinarily they are 
about the size of an Airedale terrier, but the thing that leaped for me in the 
pits of Horz that day was as large as a small puma and ten times as ferocious.
As the creature leaped for my throat, I struck it a heavy blow on the side of 
its head and knocked it to one side; but it was up at once and at me again; then 
Pan Dan Chee came into the scene. They had not disarmed him, and with 
short-sword he set upon the ulsio.
It was quite a battle. That ulsio was the most ferocious and most determined 
beast I had ever seen, and it gave Pan Dan Chee the fight of his life. He had 
knocked off two of its six legs, an ear, and most of its teeth before the 
ferocity of its repeated attacks abated at all. It was almost cut to ribbons, 
yet it always forced the fighting. I could only stand and look on, which is not 
such a part in a fight as I like to take. At last, however, it was over; the 
ulsio was dead, and Pan Dan Chee looked at me and smiled.
He was looking around for something upon which he might wipe the blood from his 
blade. "Perhaps there is something in this other chest," I suggested; and, 
walking to it, I lifted the lid.
The chest was about seven feet long, two and a half wide and two deep. In it lay 
the body of a man. His elaborate harness was encrusted with jewels. He wore a 
helmet entirely covered with diamonds, one of the few helmets I had ever seen 
upon Mars. The scabbards of his long-sword, his shortsword, and his dagger were 
similarly emblazoned.
He had been a very handsome man, and he was still a handsome corpse. So 
perfectly was he preserved that, in so far as appearances went, he might still 
have been alive but for the thin layer of dust overlying his features. When I 
blew this away he looked quite as alive as you or I.
"You bury your dead here?" I asked Pan Dan Chee, but he shook his head.
"No," he replied. "This chap may have been here a million years."
"Nonsense!" I exclaimed. "He would have dried up and blown away thousands of 
years ago."
"I don't know about that," said Pan Dan Chee. "There were lots of things that 
those old fellows knew that are lost arts today. Embalming, I know, was one of 
them. There is the legend of Lee Um Lo, the most famous embalmer of all time. It 
recounts that his work was so perfect that not even the corpse, himself, knew 
that he was dead; and upon several occasions they arose and walked out during 
the funeral services. The end of Lee Um Lo came when the wife of a great jeddak 
failed to realize that she was dead, and walked right in on the jeddak and his 
new wife. The next day Lee Um Lo lost his head."
"It is a good story," I said, laughing; "but I hope this chap realizes that he 
is dead; because I am about to disarm him. Little could he have dreamed a 
million years ago that one day he was going to rearm The Warlord of Barsoom."
Pan Dan Chee helped me raise the corpse and remove its harness; and we were both 
rather startled by the soft, pliable texture of the flesh and its normal warmth.
"Do you suppose we could be mistaken?" I asked. "Could it be that he is not 
dead?"
Pan Dan Chee shrugged. "The knowledge and the arts of the ancients are beyond 
the ken of modern man," he said.
"That doesn't help a bit," I said. "Do you think this chap can be alive?"
"His face was covered with dust," said Pan Dan Chee, "and no one has been in 
these pits for thousands and thousands of years. If he isn't dead, he should 
be."
I quite agreed, and buckled the gorgeous harness about me without more ado. I 
drew the swords and the dagger and examined them. They were as bright and fine 
as the day they had received their first polish, and their edges were keen. Once 
again, I felt like a whole man, so much is a sword a part of me.
As we stepped out into the corridor I saw a light far away. It was gone almost 
in the instant. "Did you see that?" I asked Pan Dan Chee.
"I saw it," he said, and his voice was troubled. "There should be no light here, 
for there are no people."
We stood straining our eyes along the corridor for a repetition of the light. 
There was none but from afar there echoed down that black corridor a hollow 
laugh.
6
Pan Dan Chee looked at me. "What," he asked, "could that have been?"
"It sounded very much like a laugh to me," replied.
Pan Dan Chee nodded. "Yes," he agreed, but how can there be a laugh where there 
is no one to laugh?" Pan Dan Chee was perplexed.
"Perhaps the ulsios of Horz have learned to laugh," I suggested with a smile.
Pan Dan Chee ignored my flippancy. "We saw a light and we heard a laugh," he 
said thoughtfully. "What does that convey to you?"
"The same thing that it conveys to you," I said: "that there is some one down 
here in the Pits of Horz beside us."
"I do not see how that can be possible," he said.
"Let's investigate," I suggested.
With drawn swords we advanced; for we did not know the nature nor the temper of 
the owner of that laugh, and there was always the chance that an ulsio might 
leap from one of the dungeons and attack us.
The corridor ran straight for some distance, and then commenced to curve. There 
were many branches and intersections, but we kept to what we believed to be the 
main corridor. We saw no more lights, heard no more laughter. There was not a 
sound in all that vast labyrinth of passageways other than the subdued clanking 
of our metal, the occasional shuffling of our sandalled feet, and the soft 
whisperings of our leather harnesses.
"It is useless to search farther," said Pan Dan Chee at last. "We might as well 
start back."
Now I had no intention of going back to my death. I reasoned that the light and 
the laugh indicated the presence of man in these pits. If the inhabitants of 
Horz knew nothing of them; then they must enter the pits from outside the 
citadel, indicating an avenue of escape open to me. Therefore, I did not wish to 
retrace our steps; so I suggested that we rest for a while and discuss our 
future plans.
"We can rest," said Pan Dan Chee, "but there is nothing to discuss. Our plans 
have all been made for us by Ho Ran Kim."
We entered a cell which contained no grim reminders of past tragedy; and, after 
wedging one of our torches in a niche in the wall, we sat down on the hard stone 
floor.
"Perhaps your plans have been made for you by Ho Ran Kim," I said, "but I make 
my own plans."
"And they are–?" he asked.
"I am not going back to be murdered. I am going to find a way out of these 
pits."
Pan Dan Chee shook his head sorrowfully. "I am sorry," he said, "but you are 
going back to meet your fate with me."
"What makes you think that?" I asked.
"Because I shall have to take you back. You well know that I cannot let a 
stranger escape from Horz."
"That means that we shall have to fight to the death, Pan Dan Chee," I said; 
"and I do not wish to kill one at whose side I have fought and whom I have 
learned to admire."
"I feel the same way, John Carter," said Pan Dan Chee. "I do not wish to kill 
you; but you must see my position – if you do not come with me willingly, I 
shall have to kill you." 
I tried to argue him out of his foolish stand, but he was adamant. I was 
positive that Pan Dan Chee liked me; and I shrank from the idea of killing him, 
as I knew that I should. He was an excellent swordsman, but what chance would he 
have against the master swordsman of two worlds? I am sorry if that should sound 
like boasting; for I abhor boasting – I only spoke what is a fact. I am, 
unquestionably, the best swordsman that has ever lived.
"Well," I said, "we don't have to kill each other at once. Let's enjoy each 
other's company for a while longer."
Pan Dan Chee smiled. "That will suit me perfectly," he said.
"How about a game of Jetan?" I asked. "It will help to pass the time 
pleasantly."
"How can we play Jetan without a board or the pieces?" he asked.
I opened the leather pocket pouch such as all Martians carry, and took out a 
tiny, folding Jetan board with all the pieces – a present from Dejah Thoris, my 
incomparable mate. Pan Dan Chee was intrigued by it, and it is a marvelously 
beautiful piece of work. The greatest artist of Helium had designed the pieces, 
which had been carved under his guidance by two of our greatest sculptors.
Each of the pieces, such as Warriors, Padwars, Dwars, Panthans, and Chiefs, were 
carved in the likeness of well-known Martian fighting men; and one of the 
Princesses was a beautifully executed miniature carving of Tara of Helium, and 
the other Princess, Llana of Gathol.
I am inordinately proud of this Jetan set; and because the figures are so tiny, 
I always carry a small but powerful reading glass, not alone that I may enjoy 
them but that others may. I offered it now to Pan Dan Chee, who examined the 
figures minutely.
"Extraordinary," he said. "I have never seen anything more beautiful." He had 
examined one figure much longer than he had the others, and he held it in his 
hand now as though loath to relinquish it. "What an exquisite imagination the 
artist must have had who created this figure, for he could have had no model for 
such gorgeous beauty; since nothing like it exists on Barsoom."
"Every one of those figures was carved from life," I told him.
"Perhaps the others," he said, "but not this one. No such beautiful woman ever 
lived."
"Which one is it?" I asked, and he handed it to me. "This," I said, "is Llana of 
Gathol, the daughter of Tara of Helium, who is my daughter. She really lives, 
and this is a most excellent likeness of her. Of course it cannot do her justice 
since it cannot reflect her animation nor the charm of her personality."
He took the little figurine back and held it for a long time under the glass; 
then he replaced it in the box. "Shall we play?" I asked.
He shook his head. "It would be sacrilege," he said, "to play at a game with the 
figure of a goddess."
I packed the pieces back in the tiny box, which was also the playing board, and 
returned it to my pouch. Pan Dan Chee sat silent. The light of the single torch 
cast our shadows deep and dark upon the floor.
These torches of Horz were a revelation to me. They are most ingenious. 
Cylindrical, they have a central core which glows brightly with a cold light 
when exposed to the air. By turning back a hinged cap and pushing the central 
core up with a thumb button, it becomes exposed to the air and glows brightly. 
The farther up it is pushed and the more of it that is exposed, the more intense 
the light. Pan Dan Chee told me that they were invented ages ago, and that the 
lighting results in so little loss of matter that they are practically eternal. 
The art of producing the central core was lost in far antiquity, and no 
scientist since has been able to analyze its composition.
It was a long time before Pan Dan Chee spoke again; then he arose. He looked 
tired and sad. "Come," he said, "let's have it over with," and he drew his 
sword.
"Why should we fight?" I asked. "We are friends. If I go away, I pledge my honor 
that I will not lead others to Horz. Let me go, then, in peace. I do not wish to 
kill you. Or, better still, you come away with me. There is much to see in the 
world outside of Horz and much to adventure."
"Don't tempt me," he begged, "for I want to come. For the first time in my life 
I want to leave Horz, but I may not. Come! John Carter. On guard! One of us must 
die, unless you return willingly with me."
"In which case both of us will die," I reminded him. "It is very silly, Pan Dan 
Chee."
"On guard!" was his only reply.
There was nothing for me to do but draw and defend myself. Never have I drawn 
with less relish.
7
Pan Dan Chee would not take the offensive, and he offered very little in the way 
of defense. I could have run him through at any time that I chose from the very 
instant that I drew my sword. Almost immediately I realized that he was offering 
me my freedom at the expense of his own life, but I would not take his life.
Finally I backed away and dropped my point. "I am no butcher, Pan Dan Chee," I 
said. "Come! put up a fight."
He shook his head. "I cannot kill you," he said, quite simply.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because I am a fool," he said. "The same blood flows in your veins and hers. I 
could not spill that blood. I could not bring unhappiness to her."
"What do you mean?" I demanded. "What are you talking about?"
"I am talking about Llana of Gathol," he said, "the most beautiful woman in the 
world, the woman I shall never see but for whom I gladly offer my life."
Now, Martian fighting men are proverbially chivalrous to a fault, but this was 
carrying it much further than I had ever seen it carried before.
"Very well," I said; "and as I don't intend killing you there is no use going on 
with this silly duel."
I returned my sword to its scabbard, and Pan Dan Chee did likewise.
"What shall we do?" he asked. "I cannot let you escape; but I on the other hand, 
I cannot prevent it. I am a traitor to my country. I shall, therefore, have to 
destroy myself."
I had a plan. I would accompany Pan Dan Chee back almost to the entrance to the 
pits, and there I would overpower, bind, and gag him; then I would make my 
escape, or at least I would try to find another exit from the pits. Pan Dan Chee 
would be discovered, and could face his doom without the stigma of treason being 
attached to his name.
"You need not kill yourself," I told him. "I will accompany you to the entrance 
to the pits; but I warn you that should I discover an opportunity to escape, I 
shall do so."
"That is fair enough," he said. "It is very generous of you. You have made it 
possible for me to die honorably and content."
"Do you wish to die?" I asked.
"Certainly not," he assured me. "I wish to live. If I live, I may some day find 
my way to Gathol."
"Why not come with me, then?" I demanded. "Together we may be able to find our 
way out of the pits. My flier lies but a short distance from the citadel, and it 
is only about four thousand haads from Horz to Gathol."
He shook his head. "The temptation is great," he said, "but until I have 
exhausted every resource and failed to return to Ho Ran Kim before noon tomorrow 
I may do nothing else but try."
"Why by noon tomorrow?" I asked.
"It is a very ancient Orovaran law," he replied, "which limits the duration of a 
death sentence to noon of the day one is condemned to die. Ho Ran Kim decreed 
that we should die tomorrow. If we do not, we are not in honor bound to return 
to him."
We set off a little dejectedly for the doorway through which we were expected to 
pass to our doom. Of course, I had no intention of doing so; but I was dejected 
because of Pan Dan Chee. I had come to like him immensely. He was a man of high 
honor and a courageous fighter.
We walked on and on, until I became convinced that if we had followed the right 
corridor we should long since have arrived at the entrance. I suggested as much 
to Pan Dan Chee, and he agreed with me; then we retraced our steps and tried 
another corridor. We kept this up until we were all but exhausted, but we failed 
to find the right corridor.
"I am afraid we are lost," said Pan Dan Chee.
"I am quite sure of it," I agreed, with a smile. If we were sufficiently well 
lost, we might not find the entrance before the next noon; in which event Pan 
Dan Chee would be free to go where he pleased, and I had a pretty good idea of 
where he pleased to go.
Now, I am no matchmaker; nor neither do I believe in standing in the way to 
prevent the meeting of a man and a maid. I believe in letting nature take her 
course. If Pan Dan Chee thought he was in love with Llana of Gathol and wished 
to go to Gathol and try to win her, I would only have discouraged the idea had 
he been a man of low origin or of a dishonorable nature. He was neither. The 
race to which he belonged is the oldest of the cultured races of Barsoom, and 
Pan Dan Chee had proved himself a man of honor.
I had no reason to believe that his suit would meet with any success. Llana of 
Gathol was still very young, but even so the swords of some of the greatest 
houses of Barsoom had been lain at her feet. Like nearly all Martian women of 
high degree she knew her mind. Like so many of them, she might be abducted by 
some impetuous suitor; and she would either love him or slip a dagger between 
his ribs, but she would never mate with a man she did not love. I was more 
fearful for Pan Dan Chee than I was for Llana of Gathol.
We retraced our steps and tried another corridor, yet still no entrance. We lay 
down and rested; then we tried again. The result was the same.
"It must be nearly morning," said Pan Dan Chee.
"It is," I said, consulting my chronometer. "It is almost noon."
Of course I didn't use the term noon; but rather the Barsoomian equivalent, 25 
xats past the 3rd zode, which is 12 noon Earth time.
"We must hurry!" exclaimed Pan Dan Chee.
A hollow laugh sounded behind us; and, turning quickly, we saw a light in the 
distance. It disappeared immediately. "Why should we hurry?" I demanded. "We 
have done the best we could. That we did not find our way back to the citadel 
and death is no fault of ours."
Pan Dan Chee nodded. "And no matter how much we may hurry, there is little 
likelihood that we shall ever find the entrance."
Of course this was wishful thinking, but it was also quite accurate thinking. We 
never did find the entrance to the citadel.
"This is the second time we have heard that laugh and seen that light," said Pan 
Dan Chee. "I think we should investigate it. Perhaps he who makes the light and 
voices the laugh may be able to direct us to the entrance."
"I have no objection to investigating," I said, "but I doubt that we shall find 
a friend if we find the author."
"It is most mystifying," said Pan Dan Chee. "All my life I have believed, as all 
other inhabitants of Horz have believed, that the pits of Horz were deserted. A 
long time ago, perhaps ages, some venturesome men entered the pits to 
investigate them. These incursions occurred at intervals, and none of those who 
entered the pits ever returned. It was assumed that they became lost, and 
starved to death. Perhaps they, too, heard the laughter and saw the lights!" 
"Perhaps," I said.
8
Pan Dan Chee and I lost all sense of time, so long were we in the pits of Horz 
without food or water. It could not have been more than two days, as we still 
had strength; and more than two days without water will sap the strength of the 
best of men. Twice more we saw the light and heard the laughter. That laugh! I 
can hear it yet. I tried to think that it was human. I didn't want to go mad.
Pan Dan Chee said, "Let's find it and drink its blood!"
"No, Pan Dan Chee," I counselled. "We are men, not beasts."
"You are right," he said. "I was losing control."
"Let's use our heads," I said. "He knows always where we are, because always he 
can see the light of our torch. Suppose we extinguish it, and creep forward 
silently. If he has curiosity, he will investigate. We shall listen attentively, 
and we shall hear his footfalls." I had it all worked out beautifully, and Pan 
Dan Chee agreed that it was a perfect plan. I think he still had in mind the 
drinking of the creature's blood, when we should find it. I was approaching a 
point when I might have taken a drink myself. God! If you have never suffered 
from hunger and thirst, don't judge others too harshly.
We extinguished the torch. We each had one, but there was no use in keeping both 
lighted. The light of one could have been raised to a brilliancy that would have 
blinded. We crept silently forward in the direction that we had last seen the 
light. Our swords were drawn. Three times already we had been set upon by the 
huge ulsios of these ancient pits of Horz, but at these times we had had the 
advantage of the light of our torch. I could not but wonder how we would come 
out if one of them attacked us now.
The darkness was total, and there was no sound. We clung to our weapons so that 
they would not clank against our metal. We lifted our sandalled feet high and 
placed them gently on the stone flooring. There was no scuffing. There was no 
sound. We scarcely breathed.
Presently a light appeared before us. We halted, waiting, listening. I saw a 
figure. Perhaps it was human, perhaps not. I touched Pan Dan Chee lightly on the 
arm, and moved forward. He came with me. We made no sound – absolutely no sound. 
I think that we each held his breath.
The light grew brighter. Now I could see a head and shoulder protruding from a 
doorway at the side of the corridor. The thing had the contour of humanity at 
least. I could imagine that it was concerned over our sudden disappearance. It 
was wondering what had become of us. It withdrew within the doorway where it had 
stood, but the light persisted. We could see it shining from the interior of the 
cell or room into which the THING had withdrawn.
We crept closer. Here might lie the answer to our quest for water and for food. 
If the THING were human, it would require both; and if it had them, we should 
have them.
Silently we approached the doorway from which the light streamed out into the 
corridor. Our swords were drawn. I was in the lead. I felt that if the THING had 
any warning of our approach, it would disappear. That must not happen. We must 
see IT. We must seize IT, and we must force IT to give us water – food and 
water!
I reached the doorway, and as I stepped into the opening I had a momentary 
glimpse of a strange figure; and then all was plunged into darkness and a hollow 
laugh reverberated through the Stygian blackness of the pits of Horz.
In my right hand I held the long-sword of that long dead Orovaran from whose 
body I had filched it. In my left hand I held the amazing torch of the Horzians. 
When the light in the chamber was extinguished, I pushed up the thumb button of 
my torch; and the apartment before me was flooded with light.
I saw a large chamber filled with many chests. There was a simple couch, a 
bench, a table, bookshelves filled with books, an ancient Martian stove, a 
reservoir of water, and the strangest figure of a man my eyes had ever rested 
upon.
I rushed at him and held my sword against his heart, for I did not wish him to 
escape. He cowered and screamed, beseeching his life.
"We want water," I said; "water and food. Give us these and offer us no harm, 
and you will be safe."
"Help yourselves," he said. "There is water and food here, but tell me who you 
are and how you got here to the pits of ancient Horz, dead Horz – dead for 
countless ages. I have been waiting for ages for some one to come, and now you 
have come. You are welcome. We shall be great friends. You shall stay here with 
me forever, as all the countless others have. I shall have company in the lonely 
pits of Horz." Then he laughed maniacally.
It was evident that the creature was quite mad. He not only looked it, he acted 
it. Sometimes his speech was inarticulate gibber; often it was broken by 
meaningless and inopportune laughter – the hollow laugh that we had heard 
before.
His appearance was most repulsive. He was naked except for the harness which 
supported a sword and a dagger, and the skin of his malformed body was a ghastly 
white – the color of a corpse. His flabby mouth hung open, revealing a few 
yellow, snaggled fangs. His eyes were wide and round, the whites showing 
entirely around the irises. He had no nose; it appeared to have been eaten away 
by disease.
I kept my eye on him constantly while Pan Dan Chee drank; then he watched him 
while I slaked my thirst, and an the while the creature kept up a running fire 
of senseless chatter. He would take a word like calot, for instance, and keep 
repeating it over and over just as though he were carrying on a conversation. 
You could detect an interrogatory sentence by his inflection, as also the 
declarative, imperative, and exclamatory. All the time, he kept gesturing like a 
Fourth of July orator.
At last he said, "You seem very stupid, but eventually you may understand. And 
now about food: You prefer your ulsio raw, I presume; or shall I cook it?"
"Ulsio!" exclaimed Pan Dan Chee. "You don't mean to say that you eat ulsio!"
"A great delicacy," said the creature.
"Have you nothing else?" demanded Pan Dan Chee.
"There is a little of Ro Tan Bim left," said the THING, "but he is getting a bit 
high even for an epicure like me."
Pan Dan Chee looked at me. "I am not hungry," I said "Come! Let's try to get out 
of here." I turned to the old man. "Which corridor leads out into the city?" I 
asked.
"You must rest," he said; "then I will show you. Lie down upon that couch and 
rest."
I had always heard that it is best to humor the insane; and as I was asking a 
favor of this creature, it seemed the wise thing to do. Furthermore, both Pan 
Dan Chee and I were very tired; so we lay down on the couch and the old man drew 
up a bench and sat down beside us. He commenced to talk in a low, soothing 
voice.
"You are very tired," he said, over and over again monotonously, his great eyes 
fixed first upon one of us and then upon the other. I felt my muscles relaxing. 
I saw Pan Dan Chee's lids drooping. "Soon you will be asleep," whispered the old 
man of the pits. "You will sleep and sleep and sleep, perhaps for ages as have 
these others. You will only awaken when I tell you to or when I die – and I 
shall never die. You robbed Hor Kai Lan of his harness and weapons." He looked 
at me as he spoke. "Hor Kai Lan would be very angry were he to awaken and find 
that you have stolen his weapons, but Hor Kai Lan will not awaken. He has been 
asleep for so many ages that even I have forgotten. It is in my book, but what 
difference does it make? What difference does it make who wears the harness of 
Hor Kai Lan? No one will ever use his swords again; and, anyway, when Ro Tan Bim 
is gone, maybe I shall use Hor Kai Lan. Maybe I shall use you. Who knows?"
His voice was like a dreamy lullably. I felt myself sinking into pleasant 
slumber. I glanced at Pan Dan Chee. He was fast asleep. And then the import of 
the THING'S words reached my reasoning mind. By hypnosis we were being condemned 
to a living death! I sought to shake the lethargy from me. I brought to bear 
what remained to me of my will power. Always my mind has been stronger than that 
of any Martian against whose mind I have pitted it.
The horror of the situation lent me strength: the thought of lying here for 
countless ages collecting the dust of the pits of Horz, or of being eaten by 
this snaggled toothed maniac! I put every ounce of my will power into a final, 
terrific effort to break the bonds that held me. It was even more devastating 
than a physical effort. I broke out into violent perspiration. I felt myself 
trembling from head to feet. Would I succeed?
The old man evidently realized the battle I was making for freedom, as he 
redoubled his efforts to hold me. His voice and his eyes wrapped themselves 
about me with almost physical force. The THING was sweating now, so strenuous 
were its endeavors to enthrall my mind. Would it succeed?
9
I was winning! I knew that I was winning! And the THING must have known it, too; 
for I saw it slipping its dagger from the sheath at its side. If it couldn't 
hold me in the semblance of death, it would hold me in actual death. I sought to 
wrench myself free from the last weakening tentacles of the THING'S malign 
mental forces before it could strike the fatal blow that would spell death for 
me and the equivalent of death for Pan Dan Chee.
The dagger hand rose above me. Those hideous eyes glared down into mine, lighted 
by the Hellish fires of insanity; and then, in that last instant, I won! I was 
free. I struck the dagger hand from me and leaped to my feet, the good longsword 
of Hor Kai Lan already in my hand.
The THING cowered and screamed. It screamed for help where there was no help, 
and then it drew its sword. I would not defile the fine art of my swordsmanship 
by crossing blades with such as this. I recalled its boast that Pan Dan Chee and 
I would sleep until it awoke us or it died. That alone was enough to determine 
me – I would be no duelist, but an executioner and a liberator.
I cut once, and the foul head rolled to the stone floor of the pits of Horz. I 
looked at Pan Dan Chee. He was awakening. He rolled over and stretched; then he 
sat up and looked at me, questioningly. His eyes wandered to the torso and the 
head lying on the floor.
"What happened?" he asked.
Before I could reply, I was interrupted by a volley of sound coming from the 
chamber in which we were and from other chambers in the pits of Horz.
We looked quickly around us. Lids were being raised on innumerable chests, and 
cries were coming from others the lids of which were held down by the chests on 
top of them. Armed men were emerging – warriors in gorgeous harness. Women, 
rubbing their eyes and looking about them in bewilderment.
From the corridor others began to converge upon the chamber, guided by our 
light.
"What is the meaning of this?" demanded a large man, magnificently trapped. "Who 
brought me here? Who are you?" He looked around him, evidently bewildered, as 
though searching for some familiar face.
"Perhaps I can enlighten you?" I said. "We are in the pits of Horz. I have been 
here only a few hours, but if this dead thing on the floor spoke the truth some 
of you must have been here for ages. You have been held by the hypnotic power of 
this mad creature. His death has freed you."
The man looked down at the staring head upon the floor. "Lum Tar O!" he 
exclaimed. "He sent for me – asked me to come and see him on an important 
matter. And you have killed him. You must account to me – tomorrow. Now I must 
return to my guests."
There was a layer of dust on the man's face and body. By that I knew that he 
must have been here a long time, and presently my surmise was substantiated in a 
most dramatic manner.
The awakened men and women were forcing their way from the chests in which they 
had been kept. Some of those in the lower tiers were having difficulty in 
dislodging the chests piled on top of them. There was a great clattering and 
tumult as empty chests toppled to the floor. There was a babel of conversation. 
There were bewilderment and confusion.
A dusty nobleman crawled from one of the chests. Instantly he and the large man 
who had just spoken recognized one another. "What is the matter with you?" 
demanded the latter. "You are all covered with dust. Why did you come down? 
Come! I must get back to my guests."
The other shook his head in evident bewilderment. "Your guests, Kam Han Tor!" he 
exclaimed. "Did you expect your guests to wait twenty years for you to return."
"Twenty years! What do you mean?"
"I was your guest twenty years ago. You left in the middle of the banquet and 
never returned."
"Twenty years? You are mad!" exclaimed Kam Han Tor. He looked at me and then at 
the grinning head upon the floor, and he commenced to weaken. I could see it.
The other man was feeling of his own face and looking at the dust he wiped from 
it. "You, too, are covered with dust," he said to Kam Han Tor.
Kam Han Tor looked down at his body and harness; then he wiped his face and 
looked at his fingers. "Twenty years!" he exclaimed, and then he looked down at 
the head of Lum Tar O. "You vile beast!" he exclaimed. "I was your friend, and 
you did this to me!" He turned then to me. "Forget what I said. I did not 
understand. Whoever you may be, permit me to assure you that my sword is always 
in your service."
I bowed in acknowledgment.
"Twenty years!" repeated Kam Han Tor, as though he still could not believe it. 
"My great ship! It was to have sailed from the harbor of Horz the day following 
my banquet – the greatest ship that ever had been built. Now it is old, perhaps 
obsolete; and I have never seen it. Tell me – did it sail well? Is it still a 
proud ship?"
"I saw it as it sailed out upon Throxeus," said the other. "It was a proud ship 
indeed, but it never returned from that first voyage; nor was any word ever 
heard of it. It must have been lost with all hands."
Kam Han Tor shook his head sadly, and then he straightcned up and squared his 
shoulders. "I shall build another," he said, "an even greater ship, to sail the 
mightiest of Barsoom's five seas."
Now I commenced to understand what I had suspected but could not believe. It was 
absolutely astounding. I was looking at and conversing with men who had lived 
hundreds of thousands of years ago, when Throxeus and the other four oceans of 
ancient Mars had covered what are now the vast desert wastes of dead sea bottom; 
when a great merchant marine carried on the commerce of the fair-skinned, blond 
race that had supposedly been extinct for countless ages.
I stepped closer to Kam Han Tor and laid a hand upon his shoulder. The men and 
women who had been released from Lum Tar O's malicious spell had gathered around 
us, listening. "I am sorry to disillusion you, Kam Han Tor," I said; "but you 
will build no ship, nor will any ship ever again sail Throxeus."
"What do you mean. he demanded. "Who is to stop Kam Han Tor, brother of the 
jeddak, from building ships and sailing them upon Throxeus?"
"There is no Throxeus, my friend," I said.
"No Throxeus? You are mad!"
"You have been here in the pits of Horz for countless ages," I explained, "and 
during that time the five great oceans of Barsoom have dried up. There are no 
oceans. There is no commerce. The race to which you belonged is extinct."
"Man, you are mad!" he cried.
"Do you know how to get out of these pits?" I asked – "out into the city proper 
– not up through the–" I was going to say citadel but I recalled that there had 
been no citadel when these people had been lured to the pits.
"You mean not up through my palace?" asked Kam Han Tor.
"Yes," I said, "not up through your palace, but out toward the quays; then I can 
show you that there is no longer a Throxeus."
"Certainly I know the way," he said. "Were these pits not built according to my 
plans!"
"Come, then," I said.
A man was standing looking down on the head of Lum Tar O. "If what this man says 
is true," he said to Kam Han Tor, "Lum Tar O must have lived many ages ago. How 
then could he have survived all these ages? How have we survived?"
"You were existing in a state of suspended animation," I said; "but as for Lum 
Tar O – that is a mystery."
"Perhaps not such a mystery after all," replied the man. "I knew Lum Tar O well. 
He was a weakling and a coward with the psychological reactions of the weakling 
and the coward. He hated all who were brave and strong, and these he wished to 
harm. His only friend was Lee Um Lo, the most famous embalmer the world had ever 
known; and when Lum Tar O died, Lee Um Lo embalmed his body. Evidently he did 
such a magnificent job that Lum Tar O's corpse never realized that Lum Tar O was 
dead, and went right on functioning as in life. That would account for the great 
span of years that the thing has existed – not a human being; not a live 
creature, at all; just a corpse the malign brain of which still functioned."
As the man finished speaking there was a commotion at the entrance to the 
chamber. A large man, almost naked, rushed in. He was very angry. "What is the 
meaning of this?" he demanded. "What am I doing here? What are you all doing 
here? Who stole my harness and my weapons?"
It was then that I recognized him – Hor Kai Lan, whose metal I wore. He was very 
much excited, and I couldn't blame him much. He forced his way through the 
crowd, and the moment he laid eyes upon me he recognized his belongings.
"Thief!" he cried. "Give me back my harness and my weapons!"
"I'm sorry," I said; "but unless you will furnish me with others, I shall have 
to keep these."
"Calot!" he fairly screamed. "Do you realize to whom you are speaking? I am Hor 
Kai Lan, brother of the jeddak."
Kam Han Tor looked at him in amazement. "You have been dead over five hundred 
years, Hor Kai Lan," he exclaimed, "and so has your brother. My brother 
succeeded the last jeddak in the year 27M382J4."
"You have all been dead for ages," said Pan Dan Chee. "Even that calendar is a 
thing of the dead past."
I thought Hor Kai Lan was going to burst a blood vessel then. "Who are you?" he 
screamed. "I place you under arrest. I place you all under arrest. Ho! the 
guard!"
Kam Han Tor tried to pacify him, and at least succeeded in getting him to agree 
to accompany us to the quays to settle the question of the existence of 
Throxeus, which would definitely prove or disprove the unhappy truths I had been 
forced to explain to them.
As we started out, led by Kam Han Tor, I noticed the lid of a chest moving 
slightly. It was raised little by little, and I could see two eyes peering out 
through the crack made by the lifting of the lid; then suddenly a girl's voice 
cried, "John Carter, Prince of Helium! May my first ancestor be blessed!"
10
Had my first ancestor suddenly materialized before my eyes, I could not have 
been more surprised than I was to hear my name from the interior of one of those 
chests in the pits of Horz.
As I started to investigate, the lid of the chest was thrown aside; and a girl 
stepped out before me. This was more surprising than my first ancestor would 
have been, for the girl was Llana of Gathol!
"Llana!" I cried; "what are you doing here?"
"I might ask you the same question, my revered progenitor," she shot back, with 
that lack of respect for my great age which has always characterized those 
closest to me in bonds of blood and affection.
Pan Dan Chee came forward rather open-mouthed and goggle-eyed. "Llana of 
Gathol!" he whispered as one might voice the name of a goddess. The roomful of 
anachronisms looked on more or less apathetically.
"Who is this person?" demanded Llana of Gathol.
"My friend, Pan Dan Chee of Horz," I explained.
Pan Dan Chee unbuckled his sword and laid it at her feet, an act which is rather 
difficult to explain by Earthly standards of conduct. It is not exactly an 
avowal of love or a proposal of marriage. It is, in a way, something even more 
sacred. It means that as long as life lasts that sword is at the service of him 
at whose feet it has been laid. A warrior may lay his sword at the feet of a man 
or a woman. It means lifetime loyalty. Where the object of that loyalty is a 
woman, the man may have something else in mind. I am sure that Pan Dan Chee did.
"Your friend acts with amazing celerity," said Llana of Gathol; but she stooped 
and picked up the sword and handed it back to Pan Dan Chee hilt first! which 
meant that she was pleased and accepted his offer of fealty. Had she simply 
refused it, she would have left the sword lying where it had been placed. Had 
she wished to spurn his offer, she would have returned his sword to him point 
first. That would have been the final and deadly insult. I was glad that Llana 
of Gathol had returned Pan Dan Chee's sword hilt first, as I rather liked Pan 
Dan Chee. I was particularly glad that she had not returned it point first; as 
that would have meant that I, as the closest mate relative of Llana of Gathol 
available, would have had to fight Pan Dan Chee; and I certainly didn't want to 
kill him.
"Well," interrupted Kam Han Tor, "this is all very interesting and touching; but 
can't we postpone it until we have gone down to the quays."
Pan Dan Chee bridled, and laid a hand on the hilt of his sword. I forestalled 
any unseemly action on his part by suggesting that Kam Han Tor was wholly right 
and that our private affairs could wait until the matter of the ocean, so vital 
to all these other people, had been settled. Pan Dan Chee agreed; so we started 
again for the quay of ancient Horz.
Llana of Gathol walked at my side. "Now you may tell me," I said, "how you came 
to be in the pits of Horz."
"It has been many years," she began, "since you were in the kingdom of Okar in 
the frozen north. Talu, the rebel prince, whom you placed upon the throne of 
Okar, visited Helium once immediately thereafter. Since then, as far as I have 
ever heard, there has been no intercourse between Okar and the rest of Barsoom."
"What has all that to do with your being in the pits of Horz?" I demanded.
"Wait"' she admonished. "I am leading up to that. The general belief has been 
that the region surrounding the North Pole is but sparsely inhabited and by a 
race of black-bearded yellow men only."
"Correct," I said.
"Not correct," she contradicted. "There is a nation of red men occupying a 
considerable area, but at some distance from Okar. I am under the impression 
that when you were there the Okarians themselves had never heard of these 
people.
"Recently there came to the court of my father, Gahan of Gathol, a strange red 
man. He was like us, yet unlike. He came in an ancient ship, one which my father 
said must have been several hundred years old – obsolete in every respect. It 
was manned by a hundred warriors, whose harness and metal were unknown to us. 
They appeared fierce and warlike, but they came in peace and were received in 
peace.
"Their leader, whose name was Hin Abtol, was a pompous braggart. He was an 
uncultured boor; but, as our guest, he was accorded every courtesy. He said that 
he was Jeddak of Jeddaks of the North. My father said that he had thought that 
Talu held that title.
"'He did,' replied Hin Abtol, 'until I conquered his country and made him my 
vassal. Now I am Jeddak of Jeddaks of the North. My country is cold and bleak 
outside our glazed cities. I would come south, looking for other lands in which 
my people may settle and increase.'
"My father told him that all the arable lands were settled and belonged to other 
nations which had held them for centuries.
"Hin Abtol merely shrugged superciliously. 'When I find what I wish,' he said, 
'I shall conquer its people. I, Hin Abtol, take what I wish from the lesser 
peoples of Barsoom. From what I have heard, they are all weak and effete; not 
hardy and warlike as are we Panars. We breed fighting men, in addition to which 
we have countless mercenaries. I could conquer all of Barsoom, if I chose.'
"Naturally, that sort of talk disgusted my father; but he kept his temper, for 
Hin Abtol was his guest. I suppose that Hin Abtol thought that my father feared 
him, his kind often believing that politeness is a sign of weakness. I know he 
once said to my father, 'You are fortunate that Hin Abtol is your friend. Other 
nations may fall before my armies, but you shall be allowed to keep your throne. 
Perhaps I shall demand a little tribute from you, but you will be safe. Hin 
Abtol will protect you.'
"I do not know how my father controlled his temper. I was furious. A dozen times 
I insulted the fellow, but he was too much of an egotistical boor to realize 
that he was being insulted; then came the last straw. He told Gahan of Gathol 
had decided to honor him by taking me, Llana of as his wife. He had already 
bragged that he had seven!
"'That,' said my father, 'is a matter that I cannot discuss with you. The 
daughter of Gahan of Gathol will choose her own mate.'
"Hin Abtol laughed. 'Hin Abtol,' he said, 'chooses his wives – they have nothing 
to say about it.'
"Well, I had stood about all I could of the fellow; and so I decided to go to 
Helium and visit you and Dejah Thoris. My father decided that I should go in a 
small flier manned by twenty-five of his most trusted men, all members of my 
personal Guard.
"When Hin Abtol heard that I was leaving, he said that he would have to leave 
also – that he was returning to his own country but that he would come back for 
me. 'And I hope we have no trouble about it,' he said, 'for it would be too bad 
for Gathol if she made an enemy of Hin Abtol the Panar, Jeddak of Jeddaks of the 
North.'
"He left the day before I set out, and I did not change my plans because of his 
going. As a matter of fact, I had been planning on this visit for some time.
"My ship had covered scarce a hundred haads on the journey toward Helium, when 
we saw a ship rise from the edge of a sorapus forest ahead of us. It came slowly 
toward us, and presently I recognized its ancient lines. It was the ship of Hin 
Abtol the Panar, so-called Jeddak of Jeddaks of the North.
"When we were close enough it hailed us, and its captain told us that something 
had gone wrong with their compass and they were lost. He asked to come alongside 
that he might examine our charts and get his bearings. He hoped, he said, that 
we might repair his compass for him.
"Under the circumstances there was nothing to do but accede to his request, as 
one does not leave a disabled ship without offering aid. As I did not wish to 
see Hin Abtol, I went below to my cabin.
"I felt the two ships touch as that of the Panar came alongside, and an instant 
later I heard shouts and curses and the sounds of battle on the upper deck.
"I rushed up the ladder, and the sight that met my eyes filled me with rage. 
Nearly a hundred warriors swarmed over our deck from Hin Abtol's ancient tub. I 
have never seen greater brutality displayed by even the green men. The beasts 
ignored the commonest ethics of civilized warfare. Outnumbering us four to one, 
we had not a chance; but the men of Gathol put up a most noble fight, taking 
bloody toll of their attackers; so that Hin Abtol must have lost fully fifty men 
before the last of my brave Guard was slaughtered.
"The Panars threw my wounded overboard with the dead, not even vouchsafing them 
the coup de grace. Of all my crew, not one was left alive.
"Then Hin Abtol swaggered aboard. 'I told you,' he said, 'that Hin Abtol chooses 
his wives. It would have been better for you and for Gathol had you believed 
me.'
"'It would have been better for you,' I replied, 'had you never heard of Llana 
of Gathol. You may rest assured that her death will be avenged.'
"'I do not intend to kill you,' he said.
"'I shall kill myself,' I told him, 'before I shall mate with such an ulsio as 
you.'
"That made him angry, and he struck me. 'A coward as well as an ulsio,' I said.
"He did not strike me again, but he ordered me below. In my cabin I realized 
that the ship was again under way, and looking from the port I saw that it was 
heading north – north toward the frozen land of the Panars.
11
"Early the following morning, a warrior came to my cabin. 'Hin Abtol commands 
that you come at once to the control room,' he said.
"'What does he want of me?' I demanded.
"'His navigator does not understand this ship or the instruments,' the fellow 
explained. 'He would ask you some questions.'
"I thought quickly. Perhaps I might frustrate Hin Abtol's plans if I could have 
a few minutes with the controls and the instruments, which I knew as well as we 
know the face of a loved one; so I followed the warrior above.
"Hin Abtol was in the control room with three of his officers. His face was a 
black scowl as I entered. 'We are off our course,' he snapped, 'and during the 
night we have lost touch with our own ship. You will instruct my officers as to 
these silly instruments that have confused them.' With that, he left the control 
room.
"I looked around the horizon in every direction. The other ship was nowhere in 
sight. My plan was instantly formed. Had the other ship been able to see us, it 
could not have succeeded. I knew that if this ship on which I was prisoner ever 
reached Panar I would have to take my own life to escape a fate worse than 
death. On the ground I might also meet death, but I would have a better chance 
to escape.
"'What is wrong?' I asked one of the officers.
"'Everything,' he replied. 'What is this?'
"'A directional compass,' I explained; 'but what have you done to it? It is a 
wreck.'
"'Hin Abtol could not understand what it was for, which made him very angry; so 
he started taking it apart to see what was inside.'
"'He did a good job,' I said, '–of taking it apart. Now he, or another of you, 
should put it together again.'
"'We don't know how,' said the fellow. 'Do you?'
"'Of course not."
"'Then what are we to do?'
"'Here is an ordinary compass,' I told him. 'Fly north by this, but first let me 
see what other harm has been done.'
"I pretended to examine all the other instruments and controls, and while I was 
doing so, I opened the buoyancy tank valves; and then jammed them so that they 
couldn't be closed.
"'Everything is all right now,' I said. 'Just keep on north by this compass. You 
won't need the directional compass.'
I might have added that in a very short time they wouldn't need any compass as 
far as navigating this ship was concerned. Then I went down to my cabin.
"I knew that something would happen pretty soon, and sure enough it did. I could 
see from my porthole that we were losing altitude – just dropping slowly lower 
and lower – and directly another warrior came to my cabin and said that I was 
wanted in the control room again.
"Once more Hin Abtol was there. 'We are sinking,' he told me – a fact that was 
too obvious to need mention.
'I have noticed that for some time,' I said.
"'Well, do something about it!' he snapped. 'You know all about this ship.'
"'I should think that a man who is thinking of conquering all of Barsoom ought 
to be able to fly a ship without the help of a woman,' I said.
"He flushed at that, and then he drew his sword. 'You will tell us what is 
wrong,' he growled, 'Or I'll split you open from your crown to your belly.'
"'Always the chivalrous gentleman,' I sneered; 'but, even without your threat, 
I'll tell you what is wrong.'
"'Well, what is it?' he demanded.
"In fiddling around with these controls, either you or some equally stupid brute 
has opened the buoyancy tank valves. All you have to do is close them. We won't 
sink any lower then, but we'll never go any higher, either. I hope there are no 
mountains or very high hills between here and Panar.'
"'Where are the valves?' he asked.
"I showed him.
"They tried to close them; but I had made such a good job of jamming them that 
they couldn't, and we kept right on dropping down toward the ocher vegetation of 
a dead sea bottom.
"Hin Abtol was frantic. So were his officers. Here they were, thousands of haads 
from home – twenty-five men who had spent the greater parts of their lives in 
the glazed, hothouse cities of the North Polar lands, with no knowledge, or very 
little, of the outside world or what nature of men, beasts, or other menaces 
might dispute their way toward home. I could scarcely refrain from laughing.
"As we lost altitude, I saw the towers of a city in the distance to the north of 
us; so did Hin Abtol. 'A city,' he said. 'We are fortunate. There we can find 
mechanics to repair our ship.'
"'Yes,' I thought; 'if you had come a million years ago, you would have found 
mechanics. They would have known nothing about repairing a flier, for fliers had 
not been invented then; but they could have built you a stanch ship wherein you 
could have sailed the five seas of ancient Barsoom,' but I said nothing. I would 
let Hin Abtol find out for himself.
"I had never been to Horz; but I knew that those towers rising in the distance 
could mark only that long dead city, and I wished the pleasure of witnessing Hin 
Abtol's disappointment after he had made the long and useless trek."
"You are a vindictive little rascal," I said.
"I'm afraid I am," admitted Llana of Gathol; "but, in this instance, can you 
blame me?"
I had to admit that I could not. "Go on," I urged. "Tell me what happened next."
"Will we never reach the end of these abominable pits!" exclaimed Kam Han Tor.
"You should know," said Pan Dan Chee; "you have said that they were built 
according to your plans."
"You are insolent," snapped Kam Han Tor. "You shall be punished."
"You have been dead a million years," said Pan Dan Chee. "You should lie down."
Kam Han Tor laid a hand upon the hilt of his longsword. He was very angry; and I 
could not blame him, but this was no time to indulge in the pleasure of a duel.
"Hold!" I said. "We have more important things to think of now than personal 
quarrels, Pan Dan Chee is in the wrong. He will apologize."
Pan Dan Chee looked at me in surprise and disapproval, but he pushed his sword 
back into its scabbard. "What John Carter, Prince of Helium, Warlord of Barsoom, 
commands me to do, I do," he said. "To Kam Han Tor I offer my apology."
Well, Kam Han Tor graciously accepted it, and I urged Llana of Gathol to go on 
with her story.
"The ship dropped gently to the ground without incurring further damage," she 
continued, "Hin Abtol was undecided at first as whether to take all his men with 
him to the city or leave some to guard the ship. Finally he concluded that it 
might be better for them all to remain together in the event they should meet 
with a hostile reception at the gates of the city. You would have thought, from 
the way he spoke, that twenty-five Panars could take any city on Barsoom.
"'I shall wait for you here,' I said. 'There is no reason why I should accompany 
you to the city.'
"'And when I came back, you would be gone,' he said. 'You are a shrewd wench, 
but I am just a little bit shrewder. You will come with us.'
"So I had to tramp all the way to Horz with them, and it was a very long and 
tiresome tramp. As we approached the city, Hin Abtol remarked that it was 
surprising that we saw no signs of life – no smoke, no movement along the avenue 
which we could see paralleling the plain upon which the city faced, the plain 
that had once been a mighty ocean.
"It was not until we had entered the city that he realized that it was dead and 
deserted – but not entirely deserted, as we were soon to discover.
"We had advanced but a short distance up the main avenue when a dozen green 
warriors emerged from a building and fell upon the Panars. It might have been a 
good battle, John Carter, had you and two of the warriors of your guard been 
pitted against the green men; but these Panars are no warriors unless the odds 
are all on their side. Of course they outnumbered the green men, but the great 
size and strength and the savage ferocity of the latter gave them the advantage 
over such weak foemen.
"I saw but little of the light. The contestants paid no attention to me. They 
were too engrossed with one another; and as I saw the head of a ramp close by, I 
dodged into it. The last I saw of the engagement revealed Hin Abtol running at 
the top of his speed back toward the plain with his men trailing behind him and 
the green men bringing up the rear. For the sublimation of speed, I accord all 
honors to the Panars. They may not be able to fight, but they can run."
12
"Knowing that the green men would return for their thoats and that I must, 
therefore, hide, I descended the ramp," Llana went on. "It led into the pits 
beneath the city. I intended going in only far enough to avoid discovery from 
above and to have a head start should the green men come down the ramp in search 
of me; as I knew they might – they would not quickly forego an opportunity to 
capture a red woman for torture or slavery.
"I had gone down to the end of the ramp and a short distance along a corridor, 
when I saw a dim light far ahead. I thought this worth investigating, as I did 
not wish to be taken unexpectedly from behind and, perhaps, caught between two 
enemies; so I followed the corridor in the direction of the light, which I 
presently discovered was retreating. However, I continued to follow it, until 
presently it stopped in a room filled with chests.
"Looking in, I saw a creature of most horrid mein – "
"Lum Tar O," I said. "The creature I killed."
"Yes," said Llana. "I watched him for a moment, not knowing what to do. A 
lighted torch illuminated the chamber. He carried another in his left hand. 
Presently he became alert. He seemed to be listening intently; then he crept 
from the room."
"That must have been when he first heard Pan Dan Chee and me," I suggested.
"I presume so," said Llana of Gathol. "Anyway, I was left alone in the room. If 
I went back the way I had come, I might run into the arms of a green man. If I 
followed the horrid creature I had just seen, I would doubtless be in just as 
bad a fix. If I only had a place to hide until it would be safe to come out of 
the pits the way I had entered!
"The chests looked inviting. One of them would provide an excellent hiding 
place. It was just by the merest chance that the first one I opened was empty. I 
crept into it and lowered the lid above me. The rest you know."
"And now you are coming out of the pits," I said, as we started up a ramp at the 
top of which I could see daylight.
"In a few moments," said Kam Han Tor, "we shall be looking upon the broad waters 
of Throxeus."
I shook my head. "Do not be too disappointed," I said.
"Are you and your friend in league to perpetrate a hoax upon me?" demanded Kan 
Han Tor. "Only yesterday I saw the ships of the fleet lying at anchor off the 
quay. Do you think me a fool, that you tell me there is no longer any ocean 
where an ocean was yesterday, where it has been since the creation of Barsoom? 
Oceans do not disappear overnight, my friend."
There was a murmur of approval from those of the fine company of nobles and 
their women who were within earshot. They were loath to believe what they did 
not wish to believe and what, I realized, must have seemed an insult to their 
intelligence.
Put yourself in their place. Perhaps you live in San Francisco. You go to bed 
one night. When you awaken, a total stranger tells you that the Pacific Ocean 
has dried up and that you may walk to Honolulu or Guam or the Philippines. I'm 
quite sure that you wouldn't believe him.
As we came up into the broad avenue that led to the ancient sea front of Horz, 
that assembly of gorgeously trapped men and women looked about them in 
dumfounded astonishment upon the crumbling ruins of their once proud city.
"Where are the people?" demanded one. "Why is the Avenue of Jeddaks deserted?"
"And the palace of the jeddak!" exclaimed another. "There are no guards."
"There is no one!" gasped a woman.
No one commented, as they pushed on eagerly toward the quay. Before they got 
there they were already straining their eyes out across a barren desert of dead 
sea bottom where once the waters of Throxeus had rolled.
In silence they continued on to the Avenue of Quays. They simply could not 
believe the testimony of their own eyes. I cannot recall ever having felt 
sorrier for any of my fellow men than I did at that moment for these poor 
people.
"It is gone," said Kam Han Tor in a scarcely audible whisper.
A woman sobbed. A warrior drew his dagger and plunged it into his own heart.
"And a our people are gone," said Kam Han Tor. "Our very world is gone."
They stood there looking out across that desert waste; behind them a dead city 
that, in their last yesterday, had teemed with life and youth and energy.
And then a strange thing happened. Before my eyes, Kam Han Tor commenced to 
shrink and crumble. He literally disintegrated, he and the leather of his 
harness. His weapons clattered to the pavement and lay there in a little pile of 
dust that had been Kam Han Tor, the brother of a jeddak.
Llana of Gathol pressed close to me and seized my arm. "It is horrible!" she 
whispered. "Look! Look at the others!"
I looked about me. Singly, in groups of two or three, the men and women of 
ancient Horz were returning to the dust from which they had sprung – "Earth to 
earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust!"
"For all the ages that they have lain in the pits of Horz," said Pan Dan Chee, 
"this disintegration has been going slowly on. Only Lum Tar O's obscene powers 
gave them a semblance of life. With that removed final dissolution came 
quickly."
"That must be the explanation," I said. "It is well that it is so, for these 
people never could have found happiness in the Barsoom of today – a dying world, 
so unlike the glorious world of Barsoom in the full flush of her prime, with her 
five oceans, her great cities, her happy, prosperous peoples, who, if history 
speaks the truth, had finally overthrown all the war lords and war mongers and 
established peace from pole to pole."
"No," said Llana of Gathol, "they could never have been happy again. Did you 
notice what handsome people they were? and the color of their skins was the same 
as yours, John Carter. But for their blond hair they might have been from your 
own Earth."
"There are many blond people on Earth," I told her. "Maybe, after all the races 
of Earth have intermarried for many ages, we shall develop a race of red men, as 
has Barsoom. Who knows?"
Pan Dan Chee was standing looking adoringly at Llana of Gathol. He was so 
obvious that it was almost painful, and I could see that it annoyed Llana even 
while it pleased her.
"Come," I said. "Nothing is to be gained by standing here. My flier is in a 
courtyard nearby. It will carry three. You will come with me, Pan Dan Chee? I 
can assure you a welcome in Helium and a post of some nature in the army of the 
jeddak."
Pan Dan Chee shook his head. "I must go back to the Citadel," he said.
"To Ho Ran Kim and death," I reminded him.
"Yes, to Ho Ran Kim and death," he said.
"Don't be a fool, Pan Dan Chee," I said. "You have acquitted yourself honorably. 
You cannot kill me, and I know you would not kill Llana of Gathol. We shall go 
away, carrying the secret of the forgotten people of Horz with us, no matter 
what you do; but you must know that neither of us would use our knowledge to 
bring harm to your people. Why then go back to your death uselessly? Come with 
us."
He looked straight into the eyes of Llana of Gathol. "Is it your wish that I 
come with you?" he asked.
"If the alternative means your death," she replied; "then it is my wish that you 
come with us."
A wry smile twisted Pan Dan Chee's lip, but evidently he saw a ray of hope in 
her noncommittal answer, for he said to me, "I thank you, John Carter. I will go 
with you. My sword is yours, always."
13
I had no difficulty in locating the courtyard where I had landed and left my 
flier. As we approached it, I saw a number of dead men lying in the avenue. They 
were sprawled in the grotesque postures of death. Some of them were split wide 
open from their crowns to their bellies. "The work of green men," I said.
"These were the men of Hin Abtol," said Llana of Gathol.
We counted seventeen corpses before we reached the entrance to the courtyard. 
When I looked in, I stopped, appalled – my flier was not there; but five more 
dead Panars lay near where it had stood.
"It is gone," I said.
"Hin Abtol," said Llana of Gathol. "The coward abandoned his men and fled in 
your flier. Only two of his warriors succeeded in accompanying him."
"Perhaps he would have been a fool to remain," I said. "He would only have met 
the same death that they met."
"In like circumstances, John Carter would have been a fool, then," she shot 
back.
Perhaps I would, for the truth of the matter is that I like to fight. I suppose 
it is all wrong, but I cannot help it. Fighting has been my profession during 
all the life that I can recall. I fought all during the Civil War in the 
Confederate Army. I fought in other wars before that. I will not bore you with 
my autobiography. Suffice it to say that I have always been fighting. I do not 
know how old I am. I recall no childhood. I have always appeared to be about 
thirty years old. I still do. I do not know from whence I came, nor if I were 
born of woman as are other men. I have, so far as I know, simply always been. 
Perhaps I am the materialization of some long dead warrior of another age. Who 
knows? That might explain my ability to cross the cold, dark void of space which 
separates Earth from Mars. I do not know.
Pan Dan Chee broke the spell of my reverie. "What now?" he asked.
"A long walk," I said. "It is fully four thousand haads from here to Gathol, the 
nearest friendly city." That would be the equivalent of fifteen hundred miles – 
a very long walk.
"And only this desert from which to look for subsistence?" asked Pan Dan Chee.
"There will be hills," I told him. "There will be deep little ravines where 
moisture lingers and things grow which we can eat; but there may be green men, 
and there will certainly be banths and other beasts of prey. Are you afraid, Pan 
Dan Chee?"
"Yes," he said, "but only for Llana of Gathol. She is a woman – it is no 
adventure for a woman. Perhaps she could not survive it."
Llana of Gathol laughed. "You do not know the women of Helium," she said, "and 
still less one in whose veins flows the blood of Dejah Thoris and John Carter. 
Perhaps you will learn before we have reached Gathol." She stooped and stripped 
the harness and weapons of a dead Panar from his corpse and buckled them upon 
herself. The act was more eloquent than words.
"Now we are three good sword arms," said Pan Dan Chee with a laugh, but we knew 
that he was not laughing at Llana of Gathol but from admiration of her.
And so we set out, the three of us, on that long trek toward far Gathol – Llana 
of Gathol and I, of one blood and two worlds, and Pan Dan Chee of still another 
blood and of an extinct world. We might have seemed ill assorted, but no three 
people could have been more in harmony with each other – at least at first.
For five days we saw no living thing. We subsisted entirely upon the milk of the 
mantalia plant, which grows apparently without water, distilling its plentiful 
supply of milk from the products of the soil, the slight moisture in the air, 
and the rays of the sun. A single plant of this species will give eight or ten 
quarts of milk a day. They are scattered across the dead sea bottoms as though 
by a beneficent Providence, giving both food and drink to man and beast.
My companions might still have died of thirst or starvation had I not been with 
them, for neither knew that the quite ordinary looking plants which we 
occasionally passed carried in their stems and branches this life-giving fluid.
We rested in the middle of the day and slept during the middle portion of the 
nights, taking turns standing guard – a duty which Llana of Gathol insisted on 
sharing with us.
When we lay down to rest on the sixth night, Llana had the first watch; and as I 
had the second, I prepared to sleep at once. Pan Dan Chee sat up and talked with 
Llana.
As I dozed off, I heard him say, "May I call you my princess?"
That, on Barsoom, is the equivalent of a proposal of marriage on Earth. I tried 
to shut my ears and go to sleep, but I could not but hear her reply.
"You have not fought for me yet," she said, "and no man may presume to claim a 
woman of Helium until he has proved his metal."
"I have had no opportunity to fight for you," he said.
"Then wait until you have," she said, shortly; "and now good-night."
I thought she was a little too short with him. Pan Dan Chee is a nice fellow, 
and I was sure that he would give a good account of himself when the opportunity 
arose. She didn't have to treat him as though he were scum. But then, women have 
their own ways. As a rule they are unpleasant ways, but they seem the proper 
ways to win men; so I suppose they must be all right.
Pan Dan Chee walked off a few paces and lay down on the other side of Llana of 
Gathol. We always managed to keep her between us at all times for her greater 
protection.
I was awakened later on by a shout and a hideous roar. I leaped to my feet to 
see Llana of Gathol down on the ground with a huge banth on top of her, and at 
that instant Pan Dan Chee leaped full upon the back of the mighty carnivore.
It all happened so quickly that I can scarcely visualize it all. I saw Pan Dan 
Chee dragging at the great beast in an effort to pull it from Llana's body, and 
at the same he was plunging his dagger into its side. The banth was roaring 
hideously as it tried to fight off Pan Dan Chee and at the same time retain its 
hold upon Llana.
I sprang close in with my short-sword, but it was difficult to find an opening 
which did not endanger either Llana or Pan Dan Chee. It must have been a very 
amusing sight; as the four of us were threshing around on the ground, all mixed 
up, and the banth was roaring and Pan Dan Chee was cursing like a trooper when 
he wasn't trying to tell Llana of Gathol how much he loved her.
But at last I got an opening, and drove my short-sword into the heart of the 
banth. With a final scream and a convulsive shudder, the beast rolled over and 
lay still.
When I tried to lift Llana from the ground, she leaped to her feet. "Pan Dan 
Chee!" she cried. "Is he all right? Was he hurt?"
"Of course I'm all right," said Pan Dan Chee; "but you? How badly are you hurt?"
"I am not hurt at all. You kept the brute so busy it didn't have a chance to 
maul me."
"Thanks be to my ancestors!" exclaimed Pan Dan Chee fervently. Suddenly he 
turned on her. "Now," he said, "I have fought for you. What is your answer?"
Llana of Gathol shrugged her pretty shoulders. "You have not fought a man," she 
said, "–just a little banth."
Well, I never did understand women.
BOOK 2
THE BLACK PIRATES OF BARSOOM
1
IN my former life on earth I spent more time in the saddle than I did on foot, 
and since I have been here on the Planet of Barsoom I have spent much time in 
the saddle or on the swift fliers of the Navy of Helium; so naturally I did not 
look forward with any great amount of pleasure to walking fifteen hundred miles. 
However, it had to be done; and when a thing has to be done the best plan is to 
get at it, stick to it, and get it over with as quickly as possible.
Gathol is southwest of Horz; but, having no compass and no landmarks, I went, as 
I discovered later, a little too far to the West. Had I not done so we might 
have been saved some very harrowing experiences. Although, if my past life is 
any criterion, we would have found plenty of other adventures.
We had covered some two thousand five hundred haads of the four thousand we had 
to travel, or at least as nearly as I could compute it, with a minimum of 
untoward incidents. On two occasions we had been attacked by banths but had 
managed to kill them before they could harm us; and we had been attacked by a 
band of wild calots, but fortunately we had met no human beings – of all the 
creatures of Barsoom the most dangerous. For here, outside of your own country 
or the countries of your allies, every man is your enemy and bent upon 
destroying you; nor is it strange upon a dying world the natural resources of 
which have dwindled almost to the vanishing point and even air and water are 
only barely sufficient to meet the requirements of the present population.
The vast stretches of dead sea bottom, covered with its ocher vegetation, which 
we traversed were broken only occasionally by low hills. Here in shaded ravines 
we sometimes found edible roots and tubers. But for the most part we subsisted 
upon the milk-like sap of the mantalia bush, which grows on the dead sea bottom, 
though in no great profusion.
We had tried to keep track of the days, and it was on the thirty-seventh day 
that we encountered really serious trouble. It was the fourth zode, which is 
roughly about one P.M. Earth time, that we saw in the distance and to our left 
what I instantly recognized as a caravan of green Martians.
As no fate can be worse than falling into the hands of these cruel monsters, we 
hurried on in the hope of crossing their path before we were discovered. We took 
advantage of what cover the sea bottom afforded us, which was very little; 
oftentimes compelling us to worm our way along on our bellies, an art which I 
had learned from the Apaches of Arizona. I was in the lead, when I came upon a 
human skeleton. It was crumbling to dust, an indication that it must have lain 
there for many years, for so low is the humidity on Mars that disintegration of 
bony structures is extremely slow. Within fifty yards I came upon another 
skeleton and after that we saw many of them. It was a gruesome sight, and what 
it portended I could not guess. At first I thought that perhaps a battle had 
once been fought here, but when I saw that some of these skeletons were fresh 
and well preserved and that others had already started to disintegrate I 
realized that these men had died many years apart.
At last I felt that we had crossed the line of march of the caravan and that as 
soon as we had found a hiding place we would be comparatively safe, and just 
then I came to the edge of a yawning chasm.
Except for the Grand Canyon of the Colorado, I had never seen anything like it. 
It was a great rift valley that appeared to be about ten miles wide and perhaps 
two miles deep, extending for miles in either direction.
There were outcroppings of rock at the rim of the rift, and behind these we hid. 
Scattered about us were more human skeletons than we had seen before. Perhaps 
they were a warning; but at least they could not harm us, and so we turned our 
attention to the approaching caravan, which had now changed its direction a 
little and was coming straight toward us. Hoping against hope that they would 
again change their direction and pass us, we lay there watching them.
When I had been first miraculously transported to Mars I had been captured by a 
horde of green men, and I had lived with them for a long time; so that I learned 
to know their customs well. Therefore, I was quite positive that this caravan 
was making the quinquennial pilgrimage of the horde to its hidden incubator.
Each adult Martian female brings forth about thirteen eggs each year; and those 
which reach the correct size, weight and specific gravity 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 counsel 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.
All but about one per cent of the eggs hatch, and these are left behind when the 
horde departs from the incubator. If these eggs hatch, the fate of those 
abandoned little Martians is unknown. They are not wanted, as their offspring 
might inherit and transmit the tendency to prolonged incubation and thus upset 
the system which has been maintained for ages and which permits the adult 
Martians to figure the proper time for return to the incubator 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.
The green Martians' caravan is a gorgeous and barbaric thing to see. In this one 
were some two hundred and fifty enormous three wheeled chariots drawn by huge 
mastodonian animals known as zitidars, any one of which from their appearance 
might easily have drawn the entire 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 zitidars a young Martian driver 
was perched on top of gorgeous trappings.
At the head of the caravan rode some two hundred warriors, five abreast; and a 
like number brought up the rear. About twenty-five or thirty out-riders flanked 
the chariots on either side.
The mounts of the warriors defy description in earthly words. They towered ten 
feet at the shoulder, had four legs on either side, a broad flat tail, larger at 
the tip than at the root, which they held straight out behind while running; a 
gaping mouth which splits the head from the snout to the long, massive neck.
Like their huge masters, they are entirely devoid of hair, but are a dark slate 
color and are exceedingly smooth and glossy. Their bellies are white and their 
legs shaded from the slate of the shoulders and hips to a vivid yellow at the 
feet. The feet themselves are heavily padded and nailless. Like the zitidars 
they wear neither bit nor bridle, but are guided entirely by telepathic means.
As we watched this truly magnificent and impressive cortege, it changed 
direction again; and I breathed a sigh of relief as I saw that they were going 
to pass us. Evidently, from the backs of their lofty mounts, they had seen the 
rift and were now moving parallel with it.
My relief was to be short-lived, for as the rear of the caravan was about to 
pass us one of the flankers spied us.
2
Instantly the fellow wheeled his thoat and, shouting to his companions, came 
galloping toward us. We sprang to our feet with drawn swords, expecting to die; 
but ready to sell our lives dearly.
A moment after we had gained our feet, Llana exclaimed, "Look! Here is a trail 
down into the valley."
I looked around. Sure enough, now that we were standing erect, I could see the 
head of a narrow, precipitous trail leading down over the edge of the cliff. If 
we could but reach it, we would be safe, for the great thoats and zitidars of 
the green men could not possibly negotiate it. It was very possible that the 
green men were not even aware of the presence of the rift before they had come 
suddenly upon it, and this is entirely possible; because they build their 
incubators in uninhabited and unexplored wildernesses sometimes as much as a 
thousand miles from their own stamping grounds.
As the three of us, Llana, Pan Dan Chee, and I, ran for the trail, I glanced 
over my shoulder and saw that the leading warrior was almost on top of us and 
that we could not all reach the trail. So I called to Pan Dan Chee to hurry down 
it with Llana. They both stopped and turned toward me.
"It is a command," I told them. Reluctantly they turned and continued on toward 
the end of the trail, while I wheeled and faced the warrior.
He had stopped his thoat and dismounted, evidently intent upon capturing me 
rather than killing me; but I had no mind to be captured for torture and 
eventual death. It was far better to die now.
He drew his long-sword as he came toward me and I did likewise. Had there not 
been six of his fellows galloping up on their huge thoats I should not have 
worried greatly, for with a sword I am a match for any green Martian that was 
ever hatched. Even their great size gives them no advantage. Perhaps it 
handicaps them, for their movements are slow and ponderous by comparison with my 
earthly agility; and though they are twice my size, I am fully as strong as 
they. The muscles of earthly man have not contended with the force of gravity 
since the dawn of humanity for nothing. It has developed and hardened muscles; 
because every move we make is contested by gravity.
My antagonist was so terribly cock-sure of himself, when facing such a seemingly 
puny creature as I, that he left himself wide open, as he charged down upon me 
like a wild bull.
I saw by the way he held his sword that he intended to strike me on the head 
with the flat of it, rendering me unconscious, so that he could more easily 
capture me; but when the sword fell I was not there; I had stepped to the right 
out of his way, and simultaneously I thrust for his heart. I would have 
punctured it, too, had not one of his four arms happened to swing against the 
point of my blade before it reached his body. As it was, I gave him a severe 
wound; and, roaring with rage, he turned and came at me again.
This time he was more careful; but it made no difference; he was doomed, for he 
was testing his skill against the best swordsman of two worlds.
The other six warriors were almost upon me now. This was no time for the sport 
of fencing. I feinted once, and ran him through the heart. Then, seeing that 
Llana was safe, I turned and ran along the edge of the rift; and the six green 
warriors did just what I had expected them to do. They had probably detached 
themselves from the rear guard for the sport of catching a red man for torture 
or for their savage games. Bunched close together they came after me, the 
nailless, padded feet of their ponderous mounts making no sound upon the ocher, 
moss-like vegetation of the dead sea bottom. Their spears couched, they came for 
me, each trying to make the kill or the capture. I felt much as a fox must feel 
at a fox hunt.
Suddenly I stopped, turned, and ran toward them. They must have thought that I 
had gone mad with fear, for they certainly couldn't have known what I had in 
mind and that I had run from them merely to lure them away from the head of the 
trail leading down into the valley. They were almost upon me when I leaped high 
into the air and completely over them. My great strength and agility and the 
lesser gravity of Mars had once again come to my aid in an emergency.
When I alighted, I dashed for the head of the trail. And when the warriors could 
stop their mounts they turned and raced after me, but they were too late. I can 
out-run any thoat that was ever foaled. The only trouble with me is that I am 
too proud to run; but, like the fellow that was too proud to fight, I sometimes 
have to, as in this case where the safety of others was at stake.
I reached the head of the trail in plenty of time and hurried down after Llana 
and Pan Dan Chee, whom I found waiting for me when I caught up with them.
As we descended, I looked up and saw the green warriors at the edge of the rift 
looking at us; and, guessing what would happen, I dragged Llana into the shelter 
of an overhanging ledge. Pan Dan Chee followed just as radium bullets commenced 
to explode close to us.
The rifles with which the green men of Mars are armed are of a white metal, 
stocked with wood; 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 projectiles which they use explode when they strike an object, for they have 
an opaque outer coating which is broken by the impact, exposing a glass 
cylinder, almost solid, in the forward end of which is a minute particle of 
radium powder.
(Editor's Note) 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 manuscripts 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.
The moment the sunlight, even though diffused, strikes this powder it explodes 
with a violence which nothing can withstand. In night battles one notices the 
absence of these explosions, while the following morning 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 after dark.
I felt it safer to remain where we were rather than to expose ourselves by 
attempting to descend, as I doubted very much that the huge green warriors would 
follow us down that steep declivity on foot, for the trail was too narrow for 
their great bodies and they hate going anywhere on foot.
After a few minutes I investigated and found that they apparently had departed. 
Then we started on down into the valley, not wishing to risk another encounter 
with that great horde of cruel and ruthless creatures.
3
The trail was steep and oftentimes dangerous for it zig-zagged down the face of 
an almost perpendicular cliff. Occasionally on a ledge we would have to step 
over the skeleton of a man, and we passed three newly dead bodies in various 
stages of decomposition.
"What do you make of these skeletons and bodies?" asked Pan Dan Chee. 
"I am puzzled," I replied; "there must be a great many more who died on the 
trail than those whose remains we have seen here. You will note that these all 
lie on ledges where the bodies could have lodged when they fell. Many more must 
have pitched to the foot of the cliff."
"But how do you suppose they met their death?" asked Llana.
"There might have been an epidemic of disease in the valley," suggested Pan Dan 
Chee, "and these poor devils died while trying to escape."
"I am sure I haven't the slightest idea of what the explanation can be," I 
replied. "You see the remains of harness on most of them, but no weapons. I am 
inclined to think that Pan Dan Chee is right in assuming that they were trying 
to escape, but whether from an epidemic of sickness or something else we may 
never know."
From our dizzy footing on that precarious trail we had an excellent view of the 
valley below. It was level and well watered and the monotony of the scarlet 
grass which grows on Mars where there is water, was broken by forests, the whole 
making an amazing sight for one familiar with this dying planet.
There are crops and trees and other vegetation along the canals; there are lawns 
and gardens in the cities where irrigation is available; but never have I seen a 
sight like this except in the Valley Dor at the South Pole, where lies the Lost 
Sea of Korus. For here there was not only a vast expanse of fertile valley but 
there were rivers and at least one lake which I could see in the distance; and 
then Llana called our attention to a city, gleaming white, with lofty towers.
"What a beautiful city," she said. "I wonder what sort of people live there?"
"Probably somebody who would love nothing better than to slit our throats," I 
said.
"We Orovars are not like that," said Pan Dan Chee, "we hate to kill people. Why 
do all the other races on Mars hate each other so?"
"I don't think that it is hate that makes them want to kill each other," I said. 
"It is that is has become a custom. Since the drying up of the seas ages ago, 
survival has become more and more difficult; and in all those ages they have 
become so accustomed to battling for existence that now it has become second 
nature to kill all aliens."
"I'd still like to see the inside of that city," said Llana of Gathol.
"Your curiosity will probably never be satisfied," I said.
We stood for some time on a ledge looking down upon that beautiful valley, 
probably one of the most beautiful sights on all of Mars. We saw several herds 
of the small thoats used by the red Martians as riding animals and for food. 
There is a little difference in the saddle and butchering species, but at this 
distance we could not tell which these were. We saw game animals down there, 
too, and we who had been so long without good meat were tempted.
"Let's go down," said Llana; "we haven't seen any human beings and we don't need 
to go near the city; it is a long way off. I should like so much to see the 
beauties of that valley closer."
"And I would like to get some good red meat," I said.
"And I, too," said Pan Dan Chee.
"My better judgment tells me it would be a foolish thing to do," I said, "but if 
I had followed my better judgment always, my life would have been a very dull 
one."
"Anyway," said Llana, "we don't know that it is any more dangerous down on the 
floor of the valley than it was up on the edge of the rim. We certainly barely 
missed a lot of trouble up there, and it may still be hanging around."
I didn't think so; although I have known green Martians to hunt a couple of red 
men for days at a time. Anyway, the outcome of our discussion was that we 
continued on down to the floor of the valley.
Around the foot of the cliff, where the trail ended, there was a jumble of human 
bones and a couple of badly mangled bodies – poor devils who had either died on 
the trail above or fallen to their death here at the bottom. I wondered how and 
why.
Fortunately for us, the city was at such a distance that I was sure that no one 
could have seen us from there; and, knowing Martian customs, we had no intention 
of approaching it; nor would we have particularly cared to had it been safe, for 
the floor of the valley was so entrancingly beautiful in its natural state that 
the sights and sounds of a city would have proved a discordant note.
A short distance from us was a little river; and, beyond it, a forest came down 
to its edge. We crossed to the river on the scarlet sward, close-cropped by 
grazing herds and starred by many flowers of unearthly beauty.
A short distance down the river a herd of thoats was grazing. They were the beef 
variety, which is exceptionally good eating; and Pan Dan Chee suggested that we 
cross the river so that he could take advantage of the concealment of the forest 
to approach close enough to make a kill.
The river was simply alive with fish, and as we waded across I speared several 
with my long sword.
"At least we shall have fish for dinner," I said, "and if Pan Dan Chee is lucky, 
we shall have a steak."
"And in the forest I see fruits and nuts," said Llana. "What a banquet we shall 
have!"
"Wish me luck," said Pan Dan Chee, as he entered the forest to work his way down 
toward the thoats.
Llana and I were watching, but we did not see the young Orovaran again until he 
leaped from the forest and hurled something at the nearest thoat, a young bull. 
The beast screamed, ran a few feet, staggered and fell, while the rest of the 
herd galloped off.
"How did he do that?" asked Llana.
"I don't know," I said, "he did it so quickly that I couldn't see what it was he 
threw. It was certainly not a spear because he hasn't one, and if it had been 
his sword we could have seen it."
"It looked like a little stick," said Llana.
We saw Pan Dan Chee cutting steaks from his kill; and presently he was back with 
us, carrying enough meat for a dozen men.
"How did you kill that thoat?" demanded Llana.
"With my dagger," replied Pan Dan Chee.
"It was marvellous," I said, "but where did you learn it?"
"Dagger throwing is a form of sport in Horz. We are all good at it, but I happen 
to have won the Jeddak's trophy for the last three years; so I was pretty sure 
of my ground when I offered to get you a thoat, although I had never before used 
it to kill game. Very, very rarely is there a duel in Horz; and when there is, 
the contestants usually choose daggers, unless one of them is far more 
proficient than the other."
While Pan Dan Chee and I were making fire and cooking the fish and steaks, Llana 
gathered fruits and nuts; so that we had a delicious meal, and when night came 
we lay down on the soft sward and slept.
4
We slept late, for we had been very tired the night before. I speared some fresh 
fish, and we had fish and steaks and fruit and nuts again for breakfast. Then we 
started toward the trail that leads out of the valley.
"It is going to be an awful climb," said Pan Dan Chee.
"Oh, I wish we didn't have to make it," said Llana; "I hate to leave this 
beautiful spot."
My attention was suddenly attracted toward the lower end of the valley.
"Maybe you won't have to leave it, Llana," I said. "Look!"
Both she and Pan Dan Chee turned and looked in the direction I had indicated, to 
see two hundred warriors mounted on thoats. The men were ebony black, and I 
wondered if they could be the notorious Black Pirates of Barsoom that I had 
first met and fought many years ago at the South Pole – the people who called 
themselves the First Born.
They galloped up and surrounded us; their spears couched, ready for any 
emergency.
"Who are you?" demanded their leader. "What are you doing in the Valley of the 
First Born?"
"We came down the trail to avoid a horde of green men," I replied. "We were just 
leaving. We came in peace; we do not want war, but we are still three swords 
ready to give a good account of ourselves."
"You will have to come to Kamtol with us," said the leader.
"The city?" I asked. He nodded.
I whipped my sword from its scabbard.
"Stop!" he said. "We are two hundred; you are three. If you come to the city 
there would be at least a chance that you won't be killed; if you stay here and 
fight you will be killed."
I shrugged. "It is immaterial to me," I said. "Llana of Gathol wishes to see the 
city, and I would just as leave fight. Pan Dan Chee, what do you and Llana say?"
"I would like to see the city," said Llana, "but I will fight if you fight. 
Perhaps," she added, "they will not be unkind to us."
"You will have to give up your arms," said the leader.
I didn't like that and I hesitated.
"It is that or death," said the leader. "Come! I can't stand here all day."
Well, resistance was futile; and it seemed foolish to sacrifice our lives if 
there were the remotest hope that we might be well received in Kamtol, and so we 
were taken on the backs of three thoats behind their riders and started for the 
beautiful white city.
The ride to the city was uneventful, but it gave me an excellent opportunity to 
examine our captors more closely. They were unquestionably of the same race as 
Xodar, Dator of the First Born of Barsoom, to give him his full title, who had 
been first my enemy and then my friend during my strange adventures among the 
Holy Therns. They are an exceptionally handsome race, clean-limbed and powerful, 
with intelligent faces and features of such exquisite chiseling that Adonis 
himself might have envied them. I am a Virginian; and it may seem strange for me 
to say so, but their black skins, resembling polished ebony, add greatly to 
their beauty. The harness and metal of our captors was identical with that worn 
by the Black Pirates whose acquaintance I had made upon the Golden Cliffs above 
the Valley Dor.
My admiration of these people did not blind me to the fact that they are a cruel 
and ruthless race and that our life expectancy was reduced to a minimum by our 
capture.
Kamtol did not belie its promise. It was as beautiful on closer inspection as it 
had been at a distance. Its pure white outer wall is elaborately carved, as are 
the facades on many of its buildings. Graceful towers rise above its broad 
avenues, which, when we entered the city, were filled with people. Among the 
blacks, we saw a number of red men performing menial tasks. It was evident that 
they were slaves, and their presence suggested the fate which might await us.
I cannot say that I looked forward with any great amount of enthusiasm to the 
possibility that John Carter, Prince of Helium, Warlord of Mars, might become a 
street cleaner or a garbage collector. One thing that I noticed particularly in 
Kamtol was that the residences could not be raised on cylindrical columns, as is 
the case in most modern Martian cities, where assassination has been developed 
to a fine art and where assassins' guilds flourish openly, and their members 
swagger through the streets like gangsters once did in Chicago.
Heavily guarded, we were taken to a large building and there we were separated. 
I was taken to an apartment and seated in a chair with my back toward a strange 
looking machine, the face of which was covered with innumerable dials. A number 
of heavily insulated cables ran from various parts of the apparatus; metal bands 
at the ends of these cables were clamped about my wrists, my ankles, and my 
neck, the latter clamp pressing against the base of my skull; then something 
like a strait-jacket was buckled tightly around me, and I had a sensation as of 
countless needles touching my spine for almost its full length. I thought that I 
was to be electrocuted, but it seemed to me that they took a great deal of 
unnecessary pains to destroy me. A simple sword thrust would have done it much 
more quickly.
An officer, who was evidently in charge of the proceedings, came and stood in 
front of me. "You are about to be examined," he said, "you will answer all 
questions truthfully;" then he signalled to an attendant who threw a switch on 
the apparatus.
So I was not to be electrocuted, but examined. For what, I could not imagine. I 
felt a very gentle tingling throughout my entire body, and then they commenced 
to hurl questions at me.
There were six men. Sometimes they questioned me singly and sometimes all at 
once. At such times, of course, I could not answer very intelligently because I 
could not hear the questions fully. Sometimes they spoke soothingly to me, and 
again they shouted at me angrily; often they heaped insults upon me. They let me 
rest for a few moments, and then a slave entered the apartment with a tray of 
very tempting food which he offered to me. As I was about to take it, it was 
snatched away; and my tormentors laughed at me. They jabbed me with sharp 
instruments until the blood flowed, and then they rubbed the wounds with a 
burning caustic, after which they applied a salve that instantly relieved the 
pain. Again I rested and again food was offered me. When I made no move to 
attempt to take it, they insisted; and, much to my surprise, let me eat it.
By this time I had come to the conclusion that we had been captured by a race of 
sadistic maniacs, and what happened next assured me that I was right, My 
torturers all left the apartment. I sat there for several minutes wondering at 
the whole procedure and why they couldn't have tortured me without attaching me 
to that amazing contraption. I was facing a door in the opposite wall, and 
suddenly the door flew open and a huge banth leaped into the room with a horrid 
roar.
This, I thought, is the end, as the great carnivore came racing at me. As 
suddenly as he had entered the room, he came to a stop a few feet from me, and 
so instantly that he was thrown to the floor at my feet. It was then that I saw 
that he was secured by a chain just a little too short to permit him to reach 
me. I had had all the sensations of impending death – a most refined form of 
torture. However, if that had been their purpose they had failed, for I do not 
fear death.
The banth was dragged out of the apartment by his chain and the door closed; 
then the examining board re-entered smiling at me in the most kindly way.
"That is all," said the officer in charge; "the examination is over."
5
After the paraphernalia had been removed from me, I was turned over to my guard 
and taken to the pits, such as are to be found in every Martian city, ancient or 
modern. These labyrinthine corridors and chambers are used for storage purposes 
and for the incarceration of prisoners, their only other tenants being the 
repulsive ulsio.
I was chained to the wall in a large cell in which there was another prisoner, a 
red Martian; and it was not long until Llana of Gathol and Pan Dan Chee were 
brought in and chained near me.
"I see you survived the examination," I said.
"What in the world do they expect to learn from such an examination as that?" 
demanded Llana. "It was stupid and silly."
"Perhaps they wanted to find out if they could scare us to death," suggested Pan 
Dan Chee.
"I wonder how long they will keep us in these pits," said Llana.
"I have been here a year," said the red man. "Occasionally I have been taken out 
and put to work with other slaves belonging to the jeddak, but until someone 
buys me I shall remain here."
"Buys you! What do you mean?" asked Pan Dan Chee.
"All prisoners belong to the jeddak," replied the red man, "but his nobles or 
officers may buy them if they wish another slave. I think he is holding me at 
too high a price, for a number of nobles have looked at me and said that they 
would like to have me."
He was silent for a moment and then he said, "You will pardon my curiosity, but 
two of you do not look like Barsoomians at all, and I am wondering from what 
part of the world you come. Only the woman is typical of Barsoom; both you men 
have white skin and one of you black hair and the other yellow."
"You have heard of the Orovars?" I asked.
"Certainly," he replied, "but they have been extinct for ages.
"Nevertheless, Pan Dan Chee here is an Orovar. There is a small colony of them 
that has survived in a deserted Orovar city."
And you?" he asked; "you are no Orovar, with that black hair."
"No," I said, "I am from another world – Jasoom."
"Oh," he exclaimed, "can it be that you are John Carter?"
"Yes; and you?"
"My name is Jad-han. I am from Amhor."
"Amhor?" I said. "I know a girl from Amhor. Her name is Janai."
"What do you know of Janai?" he demanded.
"You knew her?" I asked.
"She was my sister; she has been dead for years. While I was out of the country 
on a long trip, Jal Had, Prince of Amhor, employed Ganturn Gur, the assassin, to 
kill my father because he objected to Jal Had as a suitor for Janai's hand. Then 
I returned to Amhor, Janai had fled; and later I learned of her death. In order 
to escape assassination myself, I was forced to leave the city; and after 
wandering about for some time I was captured by the First Born. But tell me, 
what did you know of Janai?"
"I know that she is not dead," I replied. "She is mated with one of my most 
trusted officers and is safe in Helium."
Jad-han was overcome with happiness when he learned that his sister still lived. 
"Now," he said, "if I could escape from here and return to Amhor to avenge my 
father, I would die happy."
"Your father has been avenged," I told him. "Jal Had is dead."
"I am sorry that it was not given to me to kill him," said Jad-han.
"You have been here a year," I said, "and you must know something of the customs 
of the people. Can you tell us what fate may lie in store for us?"
"There are several possibilities," he replied. "You may be worked as slaves, in 
which event you will be treated badly, but may be permitted to live for years; 
or you may be saved solely for the games which are held in a great stadium. 
There you will fight with men or beasts for the edification of the First Born. 
On the other hand, you may be summarily executed at any moment. All depends upon 
the mental vagaries of Doxus, Jeddak of The First Born, who I think is a little 
mad."
"If the silly examination they gave us is any criterion," said Llana, "they are 
all mad."
"Don't be too sure of that," Jad-han advised. "If you realized the purpose of 
that examination, you would understand that it was never devised by any unsound 
mind. Did you see the dead men as you entered the valley?"
"Yes, but what have they to do with the examination?"
"They took that same examination; that is why they lie dead out there."
"I do not understand," I said. "Please explain."
"The machines to which you were connected recorded hundreds of your reflexes; 
and automatically recorded your own individual nerve index, which is unlike that 
of any other creature in the world.
"The master machine, which you did not see and never will, generates short wave 
vibrations which can be keyed exactly to your individual nerve index. When that 
is done you have such a severe paralytic stroke that you die almost instantly."
"But why all that just to destroy a few slaves?" demanded Pan Dan Chee.
"It is not for that alone," explained Jad-han. "Perhaps that was one of the 
initial purposes to prevent prisoners from escaping and spreading word of this 
beautiful valley on a dying planet. You can imagine that almost any country 
would wish to possess it. But it has another purpose; it keeps Doxus supreme. 
Every adult in the valley has had his nerve index recorded, and is at the mercy 
of his jeddak. You don't have to leave the valley to be exterminated. An enemy 
of the jeddak might be sitting in his own home some day, when the thing would 
find him out and destroy him. Doxus is the only adult in Kamtol whose index has 
not been recorded; and he and one other man, Myr-lo, are the only ones who know 
exactly where the master machine is located, or how to operate it. It is said to 
be very delicate and that it can be irreparably damaged in an instant – and can 
never be replaced."
"Why couldn't it be replaced?" asked Llana.
"The inventor of it is dead," replied Jad-han. "It is said that he hated Doxus 
because of the purpose to which the jeddak had put his invention and that Doxus 
had him assassinated through fear of him. Myr-lo, who succeeded him, has not the 
genius to design another such machine."
6
That night, after Llana had fallen asleep, Jad-han, Pan Dan Chee, and I were 
conversing in whispers; so as not to disturb her.
"It is too bad," said Jad-han, who had been looking at the sleeping girl; "it is 
too bad that she is so beautiful."
"What do you mean?" asked Pan Dan Chee.
"This afternoon you asked me what your fate might be; and I told you what the 
possibilities might be, but those were the possibilities for you two men. For 
the girl–" He looked sorrowfully at Llana and shook his head; he did not need to 
say more.
The next day a number of the First Born came down into our cell to examine us, 
as one might examine cattle that one purposed buying. Among them was one of the 
jeddak's officers, upon whom developed the duty of selling prisoners into 
slavery for the highest amounts he could obtain.
One of the nobles immediately took a fancy to Llana and made an offer for her. 
They haggled over the price for some time, but in the end the noble got her.
Pan Dan Chee and I were grief-stricken as they led Llana of Gathol away, for we 
knew that we should never see her again. Although her father is Jed of Gathol, 
in her veins flows the blood of Helium; and the women of Helium know how to act 
when an unkind Providence reserves for them the fate for which we knew Llana of 
Gathol was intended.
"Oh! to be chained to a wall and without a sword when a thing like this 
happens," exclaimed Pan Dan Chee.
"I know how you feel," I said; "but we are not dead yet, Pan Dan Chee; and our 
chance may come yet."
"If it does, we will make them pay," he said.
Two nobles were bidding for me, and at last I was knocked down to a dator named 
Xaxak. My fetters were removed, and the jeddak's agent warned me to be a good 
and docile slave.
Xaxak had a couple of warriors with him, and they walked on either side of me as 
we left the pits. I was the object of considerable curiosity, as we made our way 
toward Xaxak's palace, which stood near that of the jeddak. My white skin and 
gray eyes always arouse comment in cities where I am not known. Of course, I am 
bronzed by exposure to the sun, but even so my skin is not the copper red of the 
red men of Barsoom.
Before I was to be taken to the slaves' quarters of the palace, Xaxak questioned 
me. "What is your name?" he asked.
"Dotar Sojat," I replied. It is the name given me by the green Martians who 
captured me when I first came to Mars, being the names of the first two green 
Martians I had killed in duels; and is in the nature of an honorable title. A 
man with one name, an o-mad, is not considered very highly. I was always glad 
that they stopped with two names, for had I had to assume the name of every 
green Martian warrior I had killed in a duel it would have taken an hour to 
pronounce them all.
"Did you say dator?" asked Xaxak. "Don't tell me that you are a prince!"
"I said Dotar," I replied. I hadn't given my real name; because I had reason to 
believe that it was well known to the First Born, who had good reason to hate me 
for what I had done to them in the Valley Dor.
"Where are you from?" he asked.
"I have no country," I said; "I am a panthan."
As these soldiers of fortune have no fixed abode, wandering about from city to 
city offering their services and their swords to whomever will employ them, they 
are the only men who can go with impunity into almost any Martian city.
"Oh, a panthan," he said. "I suppose you think you are pretty good with a 
sword."
"I have met worse," I replied.
"If I thought you were any good, I would enter you in the lesser games," he 
said; but you cost me a lot of money, and I'd hate to take the chance of your 
being killed."
"I don't think you need worry about that," I told him.
"You are pretty sure of yourself," he said. "Well, let's see what you can do. 
Take him out into the garden," he directed the two warriors. Xaxak followed us 
out to an open patch of sand.
"Give him your sword," he said to one of the warriors; and, to the other, 
"Engage him, Ptang; but not to the death;" then he turned to me. "It is not to 
the death, slave, you understand. I merely wish to see how good you are. Either 
one of you may draw blood, but don't kill."
Ptang, like all the other Black Pirates of Barsoom whom I have met, was an 
excellent swordsman – cool, quick, and deadly. He came toward me with a faint, 
supercilious smile on his lips.
"It is scarcely fair, my prince," he said to Xaxak, "to pit him against one of 
the best swordsmen in Kamtol."
"That is the only way in which I can tell whether he is any good at all, or 
not," replied Xaxak. "If he extends you, he will certainly be good enough to 
enter in the Lesser Games. He might even win his price back for me."
"We shall see," said Ptang, crossing swords with me.
Before he realized what was happening, I had pricked him in the shoulder. He 
looked very much surprised, and the smile left his lips.
"An accident," he said; "it will not occur again;" and then I pinked him in the 
other shoulder. Now, he made a fatal mistake; he became angry. While anger may 
stiffen a man's offense, it weakens his defense. I have seen it happen a 
thousand times, and when I am anxious to dispatch an antagonist quickly I always 
try to make him angry.
"Come, come! Ptang," said Xaxak; "can't you make a better showing than that 
against a slave?"
With that, Ptang came for me with blood in his eye, and I didn't see anything 
there that looked like a desire to pink – Ptang was out to kill me.
"Ptang!" snapped Xaxak; "don't kill him."
At that, I laughed; and drew blood from Ptang's breast. "Have you no real 
swordsmen in Kamtol?" I asked, tauntingly.
Xaxak and his other warrior were very quiet. I caught glimpses of their faces 
occasionally, and they looked a bit glum. Ptang was furious, and now he came for 
me like a mad bull with a cut that would have lopped off my head had it 
connected. However, it didn't connect; and I ran him through the muscles of his 
left arm.
"Hadn't we better stop," I asked Xaxak, "before your man bleeds to death?"
Xaxak did not reply; but I was getting bored with the whole affair and wanted to 
end it; so I drew Ptang into a lunge and sent his sword flying across the 
garden.
"Is that enough now?" I asked.
Xaxak nodded. "Yes," he said, "that is enough."
Ptang was one of the most surprised and crestfallen men I have ever seen. He 
just stood there staring at me, making no move to retrieve his blade. I felt 
very sorry for him.
"You have nothing to be ashamed of, Ptang," I told him. "You are a splendid 
swordsman, but what I did to you I can do to any man in Kamtol."
"I believe it," he said. "You may be a slave, but I am proud to have crossed 
swords with you. The world has never seen a better swordsman."
"I am convinced of that," said Xaxak, "and I can see where you are going to make 
a lot of money for me, Dotar Sojat."
7
Xaxak treated me much as a wealthy horse owner on Earth would treat a 
prospective Derby winner. I was quartered in the barracks of his personal guard, 
where I was treated as an equal. He detailed Ptang to see that I had the proper 
amount of exercise and sword play; and also, I presume, to see that I did not 
try to escape. And now my only concern was the fate of Llana of Gathol and Pan 
Dan Chee, of whose whereabouts and state I was totally ignorant.
Somewhat of a friendship developed between Ptang and myself. He admired my 
swordsmanship, and used to brag about it to the other warriors. At first they 
had been inclined to criticize and ridicule him because he had been bested by a 
slave; so I suggested that he offer to let his critics see if they could do any 
better with me.
"I can't do that," he said, "without Xaxak's permission; for if anything 
happened to you, I should be held responsible."
"Nothing will happen to me," I told him; "no one should know that better than 
you."
He smiled a bit ruefully. "You are right," he said, "but still I must ask 
Xaxak;" and this he did the next time that he saw the dator.
In order to win Ptang's greater friendship, I had been teaching him some of the 
finer points of swordsmanship which I had learned in two worlds and in a 
thousand duels and battles; but by no means did I teach him all of my tricks, 
nor could I impart to him the strength and agility which my earthly muscles give 
me on Mars.
Xaxak was watching us at swordplay when Ptang asked him if I might take on some 
of his critics. Xaxak shook his head. "I am afraid that Dotar Sojat might be 
injured," he said.
"I will guarantee that I shall not be," I told him.
"Well," he said; "then I am afraid that you may kill some of my warriors."
"I promise not to. I will simply show them that they cannot last as long as 
Ptang did."
"It might be good sport," said Xaxak. "Who are those who criticized you, Ptang?"
Ptang gave him the names of five warriors who had been particularly venomous in 
their ridicule and criticism, and Xaxak immediately sent for them.
"I understand," said Xaxak, when they had assembled, "that you have condemned 
Ptang because he was bested in a duel with this slave. Do any of you think that 
you could do better than Ptang did? If so, here is your chance."
They assured him, almost in chorus, that they could do very much better.
"We shall see," he said, "but you must all understand that no one is to be 
killed and that you are to stop when I give the word. It is an order."
They assured him that they would not kill me, and then the first of them 
swaggered out to meet me. One after another, in rapid succession, I pinked each 
in the right shoulder and disarmed him.
I must say they took it very decently; all except one of them – a fellow named 
Ban-tor, who had been Ptang's most violent critic.
"He tricked me," he grumbled. "Let me at him again, my dator; and I will kill 
him." He was so angry that his voice trembled.
"No," said Xaxak; "he has drawn your blood and he has disarmed you, 
demonstrating that he is the better swordsman. If it were due to a trick, it was 
a trick of swordsmanship which you might do well to master before you attempt to 
kill Dotar Sojat."
The fellow was still scowling and grumbling as he walked away with the other 
four; and I realized that while all of these First Born were my nominal enemies, 
this fellow, Ban-tor, was an active one. However, I gave the matter little 
thought as I was too valuable to Xaxak for anybody to risk his displeasure by 
harming me; nor could I see that there was any way in which the fellow could 
injure me.
"Ban-tor has always disliked me," said Ptang, after they had all left us. "He 
dislikes me; because I have always bested him in swordsmanship and feats of 
strength; and, in addition to this, he is a natural born trouble maker. If it 
were not for the fact that he is related to Xaxak's wife, the dator would not 
have him around."
Since I have already compared myself to a prospective Derby winner, I might as 
well carry out the analogy by describing their Lesser Games as minor race meets. 
They are held about once a week in a stadium inside the city, and here the rich 
nobles pit their warriors or their slaves against those of other nobles in feats 
of strength, in boxing, in wrestling, and in dueling. Large sums of money are 
wagered, and the excitement runs high. The duels are not always to the death, 
the nobles deciding beforehand precisely upon what they will place their bets. 
Usually it is for first blood or disarming; but there is always at least one 
duel to the death, which might be compared to the feature race of a race meet, 
or the main event of a boxing tournament.
Kamtol has a population of about two hundred thousand, of which possibly five 
thousand are slaves. As I was allowed considerable freedom, I got around the 
city quite a bit; though Ptang always accompanied me, and I was so impressed 
with the scarcity of children that I asked Ptang what accounted for it.
"The Valley of the First Born will only comfortably support about two hundred 
thousand population," he replied; "so only sufficient children are permitted to 
replace the death losses. As you may have guessed, by looking at our people, the 
old and otherwise unfit are destroyed; so that we have about sixty-five thousand 
fighting men and about twice as many healthy women and children. There are two 
factions here, one of which maintains that the number of women should be greatly 
decreased; so that the number of fighting men may be increased, while the other 
faction insists that, as we are not menaced by any powerful enemies, sixty-five 
thousand fighting men are sufficient.
"Strange as it may seem, most of the women belong to the first faction; 
notwithstanding the fact that this faction which believes in decreasing the 
number of females would do so by permitting a far greater number of eggs to 
incubate, killing all the females which hatched and as many of the adult women 
as there were males in the hatching. This is probably due to the fact that each 
woman thinks that she is too desirable to be destroyed and that that fate will 
fall to some other woman. Doxus believes in maintaining the status quo, but some 
future jeddak may believe differently; and even Doxus may change his mind, 
which, confidentially, is most vacillating."
My fame as a swordsman soon spread among the sixty-five thousand fighting men of 
Kamtol, and opinion was most unevenly divided as to my ability. Perhaps a dozen 
men of Kamtol had seen my swordplay; and they were willing to back me against 
anyone; but all the remainder of the sixty-five thousand felt that they could 
best me in individual combat; for this is a race of fighting men, all extremely 
proud of their skill and their valor.
I was exercising in the garden with Ptang one day, when Xaxak came with another 
dator, whom he called Nastor. When Ptang saw them coming, he whistled. "I never 
saw Nastor here before," he said in a low tone of voice. "Xaxak has no use for 
him, and he hates Xaxak. Wait!" he exclaimed; "I have an idea why he is here. If 
they ask for swordplay, let me disarm you. I will tell you why, later."
"Very well," I said, "and I hope it will do you some good."
"It is not for me," he said; "it is for Dator Xaxak."
As the two approached us, I heard Nastor say, "So this is your great swordsman! 
I should like to wager that I have men who could best him any day."
"You have excellent men," said Xaxak; "still, I think my man would give a good 
account of himself. How much of a wager do you want to lay?"
"You have seen my men fight," said Nastor, "but I have never seen this fellow at 
work. I would like to see him in action; then I shall know whether to ask or 
give odds."
"Very well," said Xaxak, "that is fair enough," then he turned to us. "You will 
give the Dator Nastor an exhibition of your swordsmanship, Dotar Sojat; but not 
to the death – you understand?"
Ptang and I drew our swords and faced one another. "Don't forget what I asked of 
you," he said, and then we were at it.
I not only remembered what he had asked, but I now realized why he had asked it; 
and so I put up an exhibition of quite ordinary swordsmanship, just good enough 
to hold my own until I let Ptang disarm me.
"He is an excellent swordsman," said Nastor, knowing that he was lying, but not 
knowing that we knew it; "but I will bet even money that my man can kill him."
"You mean a duel to the death?" demanded Xaxak. "Then I shall demand odds; as I 
did not desire my man to fight to the death the first time he fought."
"I will give you two to one," said Nastor; "are those odds satisfactory?"
"Perfectly," said Xaxak. "How much do you wish to wager?"
"A thousand tanpi to your five hundred," replied Nastor. A tanpi is equivalent 
to about $1 in United States money.
"I want to make more than enough to feed my wife's sorak," replied Xaxak.
Now, a sorak is a little six-legged, cat-like animal, kept as a pet by many 
Martian women; so what Xaxak had said was equivalent to telling Nastor that we 
didn't care to fight for chicken feed. I could see that Xaxak was trying to 
anger Nastor; so that he would bet recklessly, and I knew then that he must have 
guessed that Ptang and I were putting on a show when I let Ptang disarm me so 
easily.
Nastor was scowling angrily. "I did not wish to rob you," he said; "but if you 
wish to throw your money away, you may name the amount of the wager."
"Just to make it interesting," said Xaxak, "I'll bet you fifty thousand tanpi 
against your hundred thousand."
This staggered Nastor for a moment; but he must have got to thinking how easily 
Ptang had disarmed me, for eventually he rose to the bait. "Done!" he said; "and 
I am sorry for both you and your man," with which polite hypocrisy he turned on 
his heel and left without another word.
Xaxak looked after him with a half smile on his lips; and when he had gone, 
turned to us. "I hope you were just playing a little game," he said, "for if you 
were not you may have lost me fifty thousand tanpi."
"You need not worry, my prince," said Ptang.
"I shall not worry unless Dotar Sojat worries," replied the dator.
"There is always a gamble in such an enterprise as this," I replied; "but I 
think that you got very much the best of the bargain, for the odds should have 
been the other way."
"At least you have more faith than I have," said Xaxak the dator.
8
Ptang told me that he had never known more interest to be displayed in a duel to 
the death than followed the announcement of the wager between Xaxak and Nastor. 
"No common warrior is to represent Nastor," he said. "He has persuaded a dator 
to fight for him, a man who is considered the best swordsman in Kamtol. His name 
is Nolat. I have never before known of a prince fighting a slave; but they say 
that Nolat owes Nastor a great deal of money and that Nastor will cancel the 
debt if Nolat wins, which Nolat is sure that he will – he is so sure that he has 
pledged his palace to raise money to bet upon himself."
"Not such a stupid thing for him to do, after all," I said; "for if he loses he 
won't need a palace."
Ptang laughed. "I hope he doesn't need it," he said; "but don't be 
over-confident, for he is rated the best swordsman among the First Born; and 
there are supposed to be no better swordsmen in all Barsoom."
Before the day arrived that I was to fight Nolat, Xaxak and Ptang grew more and 
more nervous; as did all of Xaxak's warriors, who seemed to feel a personal 
interest in me – that is, with the exception of Ban-tor, whose enmity I had 
aroused by disarming him.
Ban-tor had placed a number of wagers against me; and he kept bragging about 
this, insisting that I was no match for Nolat and that I should be killed in 
short order.
I slept in a small room by myself on old, discarded furs, as befitted a slave. 
My room connected with that occupied by Ptang; and had only one door, which 
opened into Ptang's room. It was on the second floor of the palace and 
overlooked the lower end of the garden.
The night before the encounter I was awakened by a noise in my room, and as I 
opened my eyes I saw a man leap out of the window with a sword in his hand; but, 
as neither of Mars' two moons was in the sky, it was not light enough for me to 
be sure that I could recognize him; yet there was something very familiar about 
him.
The next morning I told Ptang about my nocturnal visitor. Neither of us, 
however, could imagine why anyone would want to enter my room in stealth, as I 
had nothing to steal.
"It might have been an assassin who wanted to stop the fight," suggested Ptang.
"I doubt that," I said; "for he had plenty of opportunity to kill me, as I 
didn't awaken until he was leaping through the window."
"You missed nothing?" asked Ptang.
"I had nothing to miss," I replied, "except my harness and weapons, and I am 
wearing them now."
Ptang finally suggested that the fellow may have thought that a female slave 
slept in the room; and when he found out his error, took his departure; and with 
that we dropped the matter from our minds.
We went to the stadium about the fourth zode, and we went in style – in fact it 
was a regular pageant. There were Xaxak and his wife, with her female slaves, 
and Xaxak's officers and warriors. We were all mounted on gaily caparisoned 
thoats; pennants waved above us, and mounted trumpeters preceded us. Nastor was 
there with the same sort of retinue. We all paraded around the arena to the 
accompaniment of "Kaors!" and growls – the kaors were applause and the growls 
were boos. I received a great many more growls than kaors, for after all I was a 
slave pitted against a prince, a man of their own blood.
There were some wrestling and boxing matches and a number of duels for first 
blood only, but what the people were waiting for was the duel to the death. 
People are very much alike everywhere. On Earth, they go to boxing matches 
hoping for blood and a knockout; they go to the wrestling matches hoping to see 
someone thrown out of the ring and crippled; and when they go to automobile 
races they hope to see somebody killed. They will not admit these things, but 
without the element of danger and the risk of death these sports wouldn't draw a 
hatful of people.
At last the moment came for me to enter the arena, and I did so before a most 
distinguished audience. Doxus, Jeddak of the First Born, was there with his 
Jeddara. The loges and boxes were crowded with the nobility of Kamtol. It was a 
gorgeous spectacle; the harnesses of the men and women were resplendent with 
precious metals and jewels, and from every vantage point flew pennants and 
banners.
Nolat was escorted to the jeddak's box and presented; then to the box of Xaxak, 
where he bowed; and last of all to the box of Nastor, for whom he was fighting a 
stranger to the death.
I, being a slave, was not presented to the jeddak; but I was taken before 
Nastor; so that he could identify me as the individual against whom he had 
placed his wagers. It was, of course, a mere formality; but in accordance with 
the rules of the Games.
I had caught only a brief glimpse of Nastor's entourage as we had paraded around 
the arena; as they had been behind us; but now I got a good look at them, as I 
stood in the arena before Nastor, and I saw Llana of Gathol sitting there beside 
the dator. Now, indeed, would I kill Nastor's man!
Llana of Gathol gasped and started to speak to me; but I shook my head, for I 
was afraid she would call me by name, which might, here among the First Born, 
have been the equivalent of a death sentence. It was always a surprise to me 
that none of these men recognized me; for my white skin and gray eyes make me a 
marked man, and if any of them had been in the Valley Dor when I was there they 
must have remembered me. I was to learn later why none of these Black Pirates of 
Barsoom knew me.
"Why did you do that, slave?" demanded Nastor.
"Do what?" I asked.
"Shake your head," he replied.
"Perhaps I am nervous," I said.
"And well you may be, slave, for you are about to die," he snapped, nastily.
I was taken then to a point in the arena opposite the jeddak's box. Ptang was 
with me, as a sort of a second, I suppose. They let us stand there alone for 
several minutes, presumably to shake my nerves; then Nolat approached, 
accompanied by another noble dator. There was a fifth man; possibly he might 
have been called a referee; although he didn't have much to do besides giving 
the signal for the duel to commence.
Nolat was a large, powerful man; and built like a fighter. He was a very 
handsome man, but with a haughty, supercilious expression. Ptang had told me 
that we were supposed to salute each other with our swords before we engaged; 
and as soon as I got in position, I saluted; but Nolat merely sneered and said, 
"Come, slave! You are about to die."
"You made a mistake, Nolat," I said, as we engaged.
"What do you mean?" he demanded, lunging at me.
"You should have saluted your better," I said, parrying his lunge. "Now it will 
go harder with you – unless you would like to stop and salute me as you should 
have at first."
"Insolent calot!" he growled, and thrust viciously at me.
For reply, I cut a gash in his left cheek. "I told you you should have saluted," 
I mocked.
Nolat became furious, then, and came at me with the evident intention of ending 
the encounter immediately. I sliced him along the other cheek, then; and a 
moment later I carved a bloody cross upon his left breast, a difficult maneuver 
requiring exceptional agility and skill, since his right side was always 
presented to me; or always should have been had he been quick enough to follow 
my foot work.
That audience was as silent as a tomb, except for the kaors from Xaxak's 
contingent. Nolat was bleeding profusely, and he had slowed down considerably.
Suddenly somebody shouted, "Death!" Then other voices took it up. They wanted 
the kill; and as it was quite evident that Nolat couldn't kill me, I assumed 
that they wished me to kill him. Instead, I disarmed him, sending his blade 
flying halfway across the arena. The referee ran after it; at last I had given 
him something to do.
I turned to Nolat's second. "I offer the man his life," I said in a tone of 
voice loud enough to have been heard in any part of the stadium.
Immediately there were shots of "Kaor!" and "Death!" The "Deaths" were in the 
majority.
"He offers you your life, Nolat," said the second.
"But the wagers must be paid precisely as though I had killed you," I said.
"It is to the death," said Nolat. "I shall fight."
Well, he was a brave man; and because of that I hated to kill him.
His sword was returned to him by now, and we fell to it again. This time Nolat 
did not smile nor sneer, and he had no nasty remarks to make to me. He was in 
deadly earnest, fighting for his life like a cornered rat. He was an excellent 
swordsman; but I do not think that he was the best swordsman among the First 
Born; for I had seen many of them fight before, and I could have named a dozen 
who could have killed him offhand.
I could have killed him myself any time that I had wished to, but somehow I 
couldn't bring myself to do it. It seemed a shame to kill such a good swordsman 
and such a brave man; so I pricked him a few times and disarmed him again. I did 
the same thing three more times; and then, while the referee was running after 
Nolat's sword again, I stepped to the jeddak's loge and saluted.
"What are you doing here, slave?" demanded an officer of the jeddak's guard.
"I come to ask for the life of Nolat," I replied. "He is a good swordsman and a 
brave man – and I am not a murderer; and it would be murder to kill him now."
"It is a strange request," said Doxus; "the duel was to the death; it must go 
on."
"I am a stranger here," I said, "but where I come from if a contestant can show 
fraud or chicanery he is awarded the decision without having to finish the 
contest."
"Do you mean to imply that there has been fraud or chicanery on the part of 
either the Dator Nastor or the Dator Nolat?" demanded Doxus.
"I mean to say that a man entered my room last night while I slept, took my 
sword, and left a shorter one in the scabbard. This sword is several inches 
shorter than Nolat's; I noticed it when we first engaged. It is not my sword, as 
Xaxak and Ptang can testify if they will examine it."
Doxus summoned Xaxak and Ptang and asked them if they could identify the sword. 
Xaxak said that he could only identify it as coming from his armory; that he did 
not know the sword that had been issued to me, but that Ptang did; then Doxus 
turned to Ptang.
"Is this the sword that was issued to the slave, Dotar Sojat?" he demanded.
"No; it is not," replied Ptang.
"Do you recognize it?"
"I do."
"To whom did it belong?"
"It is the sword of a warrior named Ban-tor," replied Ptang.
9
There was nothing for Doxus to do but award the contest to me; and he also 
ordered that all bets be paid, just as though I had killed Nolat. That didn't 
set very well with Nastor, nor did the fact that Doxus made him pay over to 
Xaxak one hundred thousand tanpi in the jeddak's presence; then he sent for 
Ban-tor.
Doxus was furious; for the First Born hold their honor as fighting men very 
high, and the thing that had been done was a blot upon the escutcheons of them 
all.
"Is this the man who entered your room last night?" he asked me.
"It was dark; and I only saw his back; there was something familiar about the 
fellow, but I couldn't identify him positively."
"Did you lay any wagers on this contest?" he asked Ban-tor.
"A few little ones, Jeddak," replied the man.
"On whom?"
"On Nolat."
Doxus turned to one of his officers, "Summon all those with whom Ban-tor wagered 
on this contest."
A slave was sent around the arena, shouting out the summons; and soon there were 
fifty warriors gathered before Doxus' loge. Ban-tor appeared most unhappy; as, 
from each of the fifty, Doxus gleaned the information that Ban-tor had wagered 
large sums with each, in some instances giving extremely big odds.
"You thought that you were betting on a sure thing, didn't you?" demanded Doxus.
"I thought that Nolat would win," replied Ban-tor; "there is no better swordsman 
in Kamtol."
"And you were sure that he would win against an antagonist with a shorter sword. 
You are a disgrace; you have dishonored the First Born. For punishment you will 
fight now with Dotar Sojat;" then he turned to me. "You may kill him; and before 
you engage him, I, myself, will see that your sword is as long as his; although 
it would be only fair were he to be compelled to fight with the shorter sword he 
gave to you."
"I shall not kill him," I replied, "but I shall put a mark upon him that he will 
carry through life to remind all men that he is a knave."
As we started to take our places before the loge of the jeddak, I heard bets 
being offered with odds as high as a hundred to one that I would win, and later 
I learned that even a thousand to one was offered without any takers; then, as 
we faced one another, I heard Nastor shout, "I will lay no wager, but I'll give 
Ban-tor fifty thousand tanpi if he kills the slave." It appeared that the noble 
dator was wroth at me.
Ban-tor was no mean antagonist; for he was not only a good swordsman, but he was 
fighting for his life and fifty thousand tanpi. He didn't try any rushing 
tactics this time; but fought carefully, mostly on the defensive, waiting for me 
to make one little false move that would give him an opening; but I do not make 
false moves. It was he who made the false move; he thrust, following a feint, 
thinking to find me off balance.
I am never off balance. My blade moved twice with the swiftness of light, 
leaving an X cut deep in the center of Ban-tor's forehead; then I disarmed him.
Without even glancing at him again, I walked to Doxus' loge. "I am satisfied," I 
said. "To bear the scar of that cross through life is punishment enough. To me, 
it would be worse than death."
Doxus nodded assent; and then caused the trumpets to be blown to announce that 
the Games were over, after which he again turned to me.
"What country are you from?" he asked.
"I have no country; I am a panthan," I replied; "my sword is for sale to the 
highest bidder."
"I shall buy you, and thereby acquire your sword also," said the jeddak. "What 
did you pay for this slave, Xaxak?"
"One hundred tanpi," replied my owner.
"You got him too cheap," said Doxus; "I shall give you fifty tanpi for him." 
There is nothing like being a jeddak!
"It is my pleasure to present him to you," said Xaxak, magnanimously; I had 
already netted him a hundred thousand tanpi, and he must have realized that it 
would be impossible ever to get another wager placed against me.
I welcomed this change of masters; because it would take me into the palace of 
the jeddak, and I had been harboring a hare-brained scheme to pave the way for 
our eventual escape, that could only be successful if I were to have entry to 
the palace – that is, if my deductions were correct.
So John Carter, Prince of Helium, Warlord of Barsoom, came into the palace of 
Doxus, Jeddak of the First Born, as a slave; but a slave with a reputation. The 
warriors of the jeddak's guard treated me with respect; I was given a decent 
room; and one of Doxus' trusted under-officers was made responsible for me, just 
as Ptang had been in the palace of Xaxak.
I was at something of a loss to know why Doxus had purchased me. He must have 
known that he couldn't arrange a money duel for me, for who would be fool enough 
to place a man or a wager against one who had made several of the best swordsmen 
of Kamtol look like novices?
The next day I found out. Doxus sent for me. He was alone in a small room when I 
was escorted in, and he immediately dismissed the warrior who had accompanied 
me.
"When you entered the valley," he commenced, "you saw many skeletons, did you 
not?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Those men died trying to escape," he said. "It would be impossible for you to 
succeed any better than they. I am telling you this so that you won't make the 
attempt. You might think that by killing me you might escape in the confusion 
which would ensue; but you could not; you can never escape from the Valley of 
the First Born. However, you may live on here in comfort, if you wish. All that 
you have to do is teach me the tricks of swordsmanship with which you bested the 
finest swordsman of all the First Born. I wish you to make me that, but I wish 
the instruction given in secret and no word of it ever to pass your lips on pain 
of instant death – and a most unpleasant death, I can assure you. What do you 
say?"
"I can promise the utmost discretion," I said, "but I cannot promise to make you 
the greatest swordsman among the First Born; the achievement of that will depend 
somewhat upon your own native ability. I will instruct you, however."
"You do not talk much like a poor panthan," he said. "You speak to me much as 
would a man who had been accustomed to speaking with jeddaks – and as an equal."
"You may have much to learn about being a swordsman," I said, "but I have even 
more to learn about being a slave."
He grunted at that, and then arose and told me to follow him. We passed through 
a little door behind the desk at which he had been sitting, and down a ramp 
which led to the pits below the palace. At the foot of the ramp we entered a 
large, well lighted room in which were filing cases, a couch, several benches, 
and a table strewn with writing materials and drawing instruments.
"This is a secret apartment," said Doxus. "Only one person other than myself has 
access to it. We shall not be disturbed here. This other man of whom I spoke is 
my most trusted servant. He may come in occasionally, but he will not divulge 
our little secret. Let us get to work. I can scarcely wait until the day that I 
shall cross swords with some of those egotistical nobles who think that they are 
really great swordsmen. Won't they be surprised!"
10
Now, I had no intention of revealing all of my tricks of swordsmanship to Doxus; 
although I might have as far as any danger to myself was concerned, for he could 
never equal me; because he could never match my strength or agility.
I had been practicing him in disarming an opponent, when a door opposite that 
from which we had entered the room opened; and a man came in. During the brief 
time that the door remained open, I saw beyond it a brilliantly lighted room; 
and caught a glimpse of what appeared to be an amazingly complicated machine. 
Its face was covered with dials, buttons, and other gadgets – all reminiscent of 
the machine to which I had been attached during the weird examination I had 
received upon entry to the city.
At sight of me, the newcomer looked surprised. Here was I, a total stranger and 
evidently a slave, facing the Jeddak of the First Born with a naked blade in my 
hand. Instantly, the fellow whipped out a radium pistol; but Doxus forestalled a 
tragedy.
"It is all right, Myr-lo," he said. "I am just taking some instruction in the 
finer points of swordsmanship from this slave. His name is Dotar Sojat; you will 
see him down here with me daily. What are you doing down here now? Anything 
wrong?"
"A slave escaped last night," said Myr-lo.
"You got him, of course?"
"Just now. He was about half way up the escarpment, I think."
"Good!" said Doxus. "Resume, Dotar Sojat."
I was so full of what I had just heard and seen and what I thought that it all 
connoted that I had hard work keeping my mind on my work; so that I 
inadvertently let Doxus prick me. He was as pleased as Punch.
"Wonderful!" he exclaimed. "In one lesson I have been so improved that I have 
been able to touch you! Not even Nolat could do that. We will stop now. I give 
you the freedom of the city. Do not go beyond the gates." He went to the table 
and wrote for a minute; then he handed me what he had written. "Take this," he 
said; "it will permit you to go where you will in all public places and return 
to the palace."
He had written:
  Dotar Sojat, the slave, is granted the freedom of the palace and the city.
  Doxus,
  Jeddak.
As I returned to my quarters, I determined to let Doxus prick me every day. I 
found Man-lat, the under-officer who had been detailed to look after me, alone 
in his room, which adjoined mine.
"Your duties are going to be lessened," I told him.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
I showed him the pass.
"Doxus must have taken a liking to you," he said. "I never knew before of a 
slave being given that much freedom, but don't try to escape."
"I know better than to try that. I saw the skeletons from the top to the bottom 
of the escarpment."
"We call them Myr-lo's babies," said Man-lat; "he's so proud of them."
"Who is Myr-lo?" I asked.
"Somebody you'll probably never see," replied Man-lat. "He sticks to his pots 
and his kettles, his lathes and drills and his drawing instruments."
"Does he live in the palace?" I asked.
"Nobody knows where he lives, unless it be the jeddak. They say he has a secret 
apartment in the palace, but I don't know about that. What I do know is that 
he's the most powerful man in Kamtol, next to Doxus; and that he has the power 
of life and death over every man and woman in the Valley of the First Born. Why, 
he could strike either one of us dead right while we are sitting here talking; 
and we'd never see what killed us."
I was even more convinced now than I had been before that I had found what I had 
hoped to in that secret room beneath the palace but how to utilize the 
knowledge!
I immediately took advantage of my freedom to go out into the city, only a part 
of which I had seen during the short time that I had been out with Ptang. The 
guards at the palace gate were as surprised when they read my pass as Man-lat 
had been. Of course, pass or no pass, I was still an enemy and a slave – a 
person to be viewed with suspicion and contempt; but in my case the contempt was 
tempered by the knowledge that I had bested their best at swordsmanship. I doubt 
that you can realize in what high esteem a great swordsman is held everywhere on 
Mars. In his own country he is worshipped, as might be a Juan Belmonte in Spain 
or a Jack Dempsey in America.
I had not gone far from the palace, when I chanced to look up; and, to my 
surprise, saw a number of fliers dropping down toward the city. The First Born I 
had seen in the Valley Dor had all been flying men; but I had not before seen 
any fliers over the valley, and I had wondered.
Martian aeroplanes, being lighter than air, or in effect so; because of the 
utilization of that marvellous discovery, the ray of repulsion, which tends to 
push them away from the planet, can land vertically in a space but little larger 
in area than themselves; and I saw that the planes I was watching were coming 
down into the city at no great distance from the palace.
Fliers! I think that my heart beat a little faster at the sight of them. Fliers! 
a means of escape from the Valley of the First Born. It might take a great deal 
of scheming; and would certainly entail enormous risks; but if all went well 
with the other part of my plan, I would find a way – and a flier.
I made my way toward the point at which I had seen the fliers disappear behind 
the roofs of the buildings near me, and at last my search was rewarded. I came 
to an enormous building some three stories high, on the roof of which I could 
just see a part of a flier. Practically all hangars to Barsoom are on the roofs 
of buildings, usually to conserve space in crowded, walled cities; so I was not 
surprised to find a hangar in Kamtol thus located.
I approached the entrance to the building, determined to inspect it and some of 
the ships if I could get in. As I stepped through the entrance, a warrior barred 
my way with drawn sword.
"Where do you think you're going, slave?" he demanded.
I showed him my pass.
He looked equally as surprised as the others had who had read it. "This says the 
freedom of the palace and the city," he said; "it doesn't say the freedom of the 
hangars."
"They're in the city, aren't they?" I demanded.
He shook his head. "They may be in the city, but I won't admit you. I'll call 
the officer."
He did so, and presently the officer appeared. "So!" he exclaimed, when he saw 
me; "you're the slave who could have killed Nolat, but spared his life. What do 
you want here?"
I handed him my pass. He read it carefully a couple of times. "It doesn't seem 
possible," he said, "but then your swordsmanship didn't seem possible either. It 
is hard for me to believe it yet. Why, Nolat was considered the best swordsman 
in Kamtol; and you made him look like an old woman with one leg. Why do you want 
to come in here?"
"I want to learn to fly," I said, naively.
He slapped his thighs and laughed at that. "Either you are foolish, or you think 
we First Born are, if you have an idea that we would teach a slave to fly."
"Well, I'd like to come in and look at the fliers anyway," I said. "That 
wouldn't do any harm. I've always been interested in them."
He thought a moment; then he said, "Nolat is my best friend; you might have 
killed him, but you refused. For that I am going to let you come in."
"Thank you," I said.
The first floor of the building was largely given over to shops where fliers 
were being built or repaired. The second and third floors were packed with 
fliers, mostly the small, swift ones for which the Black Pirates of Barsoom are 
noted. On the roof were four large battleships; and, parked under them, were a 
number of small fliers for which there was evidently no room on the floors 
below.
The building must have covered several acres; so there were an enormous number 
of planes hangared there. I could see them now, as I had seen them years before, 
swarming like angry mosquitoes over the Golden Cliffs of the Holy Therns; but 
what were they doing here? I had supposed that the First Born lived only in the 
Valley Dor, although the majority of Barsoomians still believe that they come 
from Thuria, the nearer moon. That theory I had seen refuted the time that 
Xodar, a Black Pirate, had nearly succumbed from lack of oxygen when I had flown 
too high while escaping from them, that time that Thuvia and I had escaped the 
Therns, during their battle with the Black Pirates. If a man can't live without 
oxygen, he can't fly back and forth between Thuria and Barsoom in an open flier.
The officer had sent a warrior along, with me, as a precaution against sabotage, 
I suppose; and I asked this fellow why I had seen no ships in the air since I 
had come, except the few I had seen this day.
"We fly mostly at night," he replied, "so that our enemies cannot see where we 
take off from, nor where we land. Those that you saw coming in a few minutes ago 
were visitors from Dor. That may mean that we are going to war, and I hope so. 
We haven't raided any cities for a long time. If it's to be a big raid, those 
from Dor and from Kamtol band together."
Some Black Pirates from the Valley Dor! Now, indeed, I might be recognized.
11
As I walked away from the hangar building, I turned and looked back, studying 
every detail of the architecture; then I walked around the entire building, 
which covered a whole square, with avenues on all four sides. Like nearly all 
Martian buildings, this one was highly ornamented with deep carvings. It stood 
in a rather poor section of the city, although not far from the palace; and was 
surrounded by small and modest homes. They were probably the homes of the 
artisans employed around the hangar. A little farther from the hangar a section 
of small shops began; and as I passed along, looking at the wares displayed, I 
saw something which brought me to a sudden stop, for it suggested a new 
accessory to my rapidly formulating plans for escape from the Valley of the 
First Born – from which none ever escaped. It is sometimes well not to be too 
greatly constrained by precedent.
I entered the shop and asked the proprietor the price of the article I wished. 
It was only three teepi, the equivalent of about thirty cents in United States 
money; but with the information came the realization that I had none of the 
money of the First Born.
The medium of exchange upon Mars is not dissimilar to our own, except that the 
coins are oval; and there are only three; the pi, pronounced pi; worth about one 
cent; the teepi, ten cents; and the tanpi, one dollar. These coins are oval; one 
of bronze, one of silver, and one of gold. Paper money is issued by individuals, 
much as we write a check, and is redeemed by the individual 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 the mines, which are 
government owned.
I had with me money of Helium to the value of some fifty tanpi, and I asked the 
proprietor if he would accept a larger amount than the value of the article in 
foreign coin. As the value of the metal is equal to the value of the coin, he 
gladly accepted one dollar in gold for what was worth thirty cents in silver; 
and I placed my purchase in my pocket pouch and departed.
As I approached the palace, I saw a white-skinned man ahead of me carrying a 
heavy burden on his back. Now, as far as I knew, there was only one other 
white-skinned man in Kamtol; and that was Pan Dan Chee; so I hastened to 
overtake him.
Sure enough, it was the Orovar from Horz; and when I came up behind him and 
called him by name, he almost dropped his burden, so surprised was he.
"John Carter!" he exclaimed.
"Hush!" I cautioned; "my name is Dotar Sojat. If the First Born knew that John 
Carter was in Kamtol I hate to think what would happen to him. Tell me about 
yourself. What has happened to you since I last saw you?"
"I was purchased by Dator Nastor, who has the reputation of being the hardest 
master in Kamtol. He is also the meanest; he bought me only because he could buy 
me cheap, and he made them throw in Jad-han for good measure. He works us day 
and night, and feeds us very little – and poor food at that. Since he lost a 
hundred thousand tanpi to Xaxak, it has been almost like working for a maniac.
"By my first ancestor!" he exclaimed suddenly; "so it was you who defeated Nolat 
and caused Nastor to lose all that money! I didn't realize it until just now. 
They said the slave who won the contest was named Dotar Sojat, and that meant 
nothing to me until now – and I was a little slow in getting it, at that."
"Have you seen Llana of Gathol?" I asked him. "She was in Nastor's loge at the 
Games; so I, presume she was purchased by him."
"Yes, but I have not seen her," replied Pan Dan Chee; "however, I have heard 
gossip in the slaves' quarters; and I am much worried by what is being whispered 
about the palace."
"What have you heard? I felt that she was in danger when I saw her in Nastor's 
loge. She is too beautiful to be safe."
"She was safe enough at first," said Pan Dan Chee, "as she was originally 
purchased by Nastor's principal wife. Everything was comparatively well for her 
until Nastor got a good look at her at the Games; then he tried to buy her from 
his wife. But she, Van-tija, refused to sell. Nastor was furious, and told 
Van-tija that he would take Llana anyway, so Van-tija has locked her in an 
apartment at the top of the tower of her own part of the palace, and has placed 
her personal guards at the only entrance. There is the tower, there," he said, 
pointing; "perhaps Llana of Gathol is looking down at us now."
As I looked up at the tower, I saw that it rose above a palace which stood 
directly across the large central plaza from that of the jeddak; and I saw 
something else – I saw the windows of Llana's apartments were not barred. 
"Do you think that Llana is in any immediate danger?" asked.
"Yes," he replied, "I do. It is rumored in the palace that Nastor is going to 
lead warriors to Van-tija's section of the palace and attempt to take the tower 
by storm."
"Then we have no time to lose, Pan Dan Chee. We must act tonight."
"But what can we two slaves do?" he demanded. "Even if we succeeded in getting 
Llana out of the tower, we could never escape from the Valley of the First Born. 
Do not forget the skeletons, John Carter."
"Trust me," I said, "and don't call me John Carter. Can you get out of the 
palace of Nastor after dark?"
"I think so; they are very lax; because assassination and theft are practically 
unknown here, and the secret machine of the jeddak makes escape from the valley 
impossible. I am quite sure that I can get out. In fact, I have been sent out on 
errands every night since I was purchased."
"Good!" I said. "Now listen carefully: Come out of the palace and loiter in the 
shadows near Nastor's palace at about twenty-five xats after the eighth zode.* 
Bring Jad-han with you, if he wishes to escape. If my plan succeeds, a flier 
will land here in the plaza near you; run for it and climb aboard. It will be 
piloted by a Black Pirate, but don't let that deter you. If you and Jad-han can 
arm yourselves, do so; there may be fighting. If the flier does not come, you 
will know that I have failed; and you can go back to your quarters and be no 
worse off. If I do not come, it will be because I am dead, or about to die."
*Midnight, Earth time.
"And Llana?" he asked. "What of her?"
"My plans all center around the rescue of Llana of Gathol," I assured him. "If I 
fail in that, I fail in all; for I will not leave without her."
"I wish you could tell me how you expect to accomplish the impossible," he said. 
"I should feel very much surer of the outcome, I know, if you would tell me at 
least something of your plans."
"Certainly," I said. "In the first place–"
"What are you two slaves doing loitering here?" demanded a gruff voice behind 
us. I turned to see a burly warrior at my shoulder. For answer, I showed him my 
pass from the jeddak.
Even after he read it, he looked as though he didn't believe it; but presently 
he handed it back to me and said, "That's all right for you, but how about this 
other one? Has he got a pass from the jeddak, too?"
"The fault is mine," I said. "I knew him before we were captured, and I stopped 
him to ask how he was faring. I am sure that if the jeddak knew, he would say 
that it was all right for me to talk with a friend. The jeddak has been very 
kind to me." I was trying to impress the fellow with the fact that his jeddak 
was very kindly disposed toward me. I think that I succeeded.
"Very well," he said, "but get on your way now – the Great Plaza is no place for 
slaves to visit with one another."
Pan Dan Chee picked up his burden and departed, and I was about to leave when 
the warrior detained me. "I saw you defeat Nolat and Ban-tor at the Games," he 
said. "We were talking about it a little while ago with some of our friends from 
the Valley Dor. They said that there was once a warrior came there who was just 
such a marvellous swordsman. His name was John Carter, and he had a white skin 
and gray eyes! Could your name, by any chance, be John Carter?"
"My name is Dotar Sojat," I replied.
"Our friends from the Valley Dor would like to get hold of John Carter," he 
said; and then, with a rather nasty little smile, he turned on his heel and left 
me.
12
Now indeed was the occasion for haste increased a hundredfold. If one man in 
Kamtol suspected that I might be John Carter, Prince of Helium, I should be lost 
by the morrow at the latest – perhaps before the morrow. Even as I entered the 
palace I feared arrest, but I reached my room without incident. Presently 
Man-lat came in; and at sight of him I expected the worst, for he had never 
visited me before. My sword was ready to leap from its scabbard, for I had 
determined to die fighting rather than let them arrest and disarm me. Even now, 
if Man-lat made a false move, I could kill him; and there might still be a 
chance that my plan could move on to successful fruition.
But Man-lat was in a friendly, almost jovial mood. "It is too bad that you are a 
slave," he said, "for there are going to be great doings in the palace tonight. 
Doxus is entertaining the visitors from Dor. There will be much to eat and much 
to drink, and there will be entertainment. Doxus will probably have you give an 
exhibition of sword play with one of our best swordsmen – not to the death, you 
understand, but just for first blood. Then there will be dancing by slave girls; 
the nobles will enter their most beautiful. Doxus has commanded Nastor to bring 
a new purchase of his whose beauty has been the talk of Kamtol since the last 
games. Yes, it is too bad that you are not a First Born; so that you might enjoy 
the evening to the full."
"I am sure I shall enjoy the evening," I said.
"How's that?" he demanded.
"Didn't you say that I was going to be there?"
"Oh, yes; but only, as an entertainer. You will not eat nor drink with us, and 
you will not see the slave girls. It is really too bad that you are not a First 
Born; you would have been a credit to us."
"I feel that I am quite the equal of any of the First Born," I said, for I was 
pretty well fed up with their arrogance and conceit.
Man-lat looked at me in pained surprise. "You are presumptuous, slave," he said. 
"Do you not know that the First Born of Barsoom, sometimes known to you lesser 
creatures as The Black Pirates of Barsoom, are of the oldest race on the planet. 
We trace our lineage, unbroken, direct to the Tree of Life which flourished in 
the Valley Dor twenty-three million years ago.
"For countless ages the fruit of this tree underwent the gradual changes of 
evolution, passing by degrees from the true plant life to a combination of plant 
and animal. In the first stages of this phase, the fruit of the tree possessed 
only the power of independent muscular action, while the stem remained attached 
to the parent plant; later, a brain developed in the fruit; so that, hanging 
there by their long stems, they thought and moved as individuals.
"Then, with the development of perceptions, came a comparison of them; judgments 
were reached and compared, and thus reason and the power to reason were born 
upon Barsoom.
"Ages passed. Many forms of life came and went upon the Tree of Life, but still 
all were attached to the parent plant by stems of varying lengths. In time the 
fruit upon the tree consisted of tiny plant men, such as we now see reproduced 
in such huge dimensions in the Valley Dor; but still hanging to the limbs and 
branches of the Tree by the stems which grew from the tops of their heads.
"The buds from which the plant men blossomed resembled large nuts about a sofad* 
in diameter, divided by double partition walls into four sections. In one 
section grew the plant man; in another a sixteen-legged worm; in the third the 
progenitor of the white ape; and in the fourth, the primeval black man of 
Barsoom.
*11.17 Earth inches.
"When the bud burst, the plant man remained dangling at the end of his stem; but 
the three other sections fell to the ground, where the efforts of their 
imprisoned occupants to escape sent them hopping about in all directions.
"Thus, as time went on, all Barsoom, was covered by these imprisoned creatures. 
For countless ages they lived their long lives within their hard shells, hopping 
and skipping about the broad planet; falling into rivers, takes, and seas to be 
still farther spread about the surface of the new world.
"Countless billions died before the first black man broke through his prison 
walls into the light of day. Prompted by curiosity, he broke open other shells; 
and the peopling of Barsoom commenced.
"The pure strain of the blood of this first black man has remained untainted by 
admixture with that of other creatures; but from the sixteen legged worm, the 
first white ape, and renegade black men has sprung every other form of life upon 
Barsoom."
I hoped he was through, for I had beard all this many times before; but, of 
course, I didn't dare tell him so. I wished he would go away – not that I could 
do anything until after dark, but I just wanted to be alone and re-plan every 
minutest detail of the night's work that lay before me.
At last he went; and at long last night came, but I must still remain inactive 
until about two hours before the time that I had told Pan Dan Chee to be 
prepared to climb aboard a flier piloted by a Black Pirate. I was betting that 
he was still puzzling over that.
The evening wore on. I heard sounds of revelry coming from the first floor of 
the palace through the garden upon which my window opened – the jeddak's banquet 
was in full swing. The zero hour was approaching – and then malign Fate struck. 
A warrior came, summoning me to the banquet hall!
I should have killed him and gone on about my business, but suddenly a spirit of 
bravado possessed me. I would face them all, let them see once more the greatest 
swordsman of two worlds, and let them realize, when I had escaped them, that I 
was greater in all ways than the greatest of the First Born. I knew it was 
foolish; but now I was following the warrior toward the banquet hall; the die 
was cast, and it was too late to turn back.
No one paid any attention to me as I entered the great room – I was only a 
slave. Four tables, forming a hollow square, were filled with men and women, 
gorgeously trapped. They were talking and laughing; and wine was flowing, and a 
small army of slaves was bearing more food and more wine. Some of the guests 
were already a little bit high, and it was evident that Doxus was holding his 
own with the best of them. He had his arm about his wife, on one side; but he 
was kissing another man's wife on the other.
The warrior who had fetched me went and whispered in the jeddak's ear, and Doxus 
banged a huge gong for silence. When they had quieted down, he spoke to them: 
"For long the First Born of the Valley Dor have boasted of their swordsmanship; 
and, in contests, I admit that they have proved that they possess some slight 
superiority over us; but I have in my palace a slave, a common slave, who can 
best the best swordsman from Dor. He is here now to give an exhibition of his 
marvellous ability in a contest with one of my nobles; not to the death, but for 
first blood only – unless there be one from Dor who believes that he can best 
this slave of mine."
A noble arose. "It is a challenge," he said. "Dator Zithad is the best swordsman 
here from Dor tonight; but if he will not meet a slave, I will for the honor of 
Dor. We have heard of this slave since we arrived in Kamtol, how he bested your 
best swordsmen; and I for one shall be glad to draw his blood."
Then Zithad arose, haughty and arrogant. "I have never sullied my sword with the 
blood of a slave," he said, "but I shall be glad to expunge the shame of Kamtol. 
Where is the knave?"
Zithad! He had been Dator of the Guards of Issus at the time of the revolt of 
the slaves and the overthrow of Issus. He had good reason to remember me and to 
hate me.
When we faced each other in the center of that hollow square in the banquet hall 
of Doxus, Jeddak of the First Born of Kamtol, he looked puzzled for a moment, 
and then stepped back. He opened his mouth to speak.
"So, you are afraid to meet a slave!" I taunted him. "Come! they want to see you 
spill my blood; let's not disappoint them." I touched him lightly with my point.
"Calot!" he growled, and came for me.
He was a better swordsman than Nolat, but I made a monkey of him. I backed him 
around the square, keeping him always on the defensive; but I drew no blood – 
yet. He was furious – and he was afraid. The audience sat in breathless silence.
Suddenly he screamed: "Fools! Don't you know who this slave is? He is–" Then I 
ran him through the heart.
Instantly pandemonium reigned. A hundred swords sprang from their scabbards, but 
I waited to see no more – I'd seen plenty! With drawn sword, I ran straight for 
the center of one of the tables; a woman screamed. In a single bound I cleared 
the table and the diners, and bolted through the door behind them into the 
garden.
Of course, they were after me instantly; but I dodged into the shrubbery, and 
made my way to a point beneath my window at the lower end of the garden. It was 
scarcely a fifteen foot jump to the sill; and a second later I had passed 
through my room and down a ramp to the floor below.
It was dark, but I knew every inch of the way to my goal. I had prepared for 
just some such eventuality. I reached the room in which Doxus had first 
interviewed me, and passed through the doorway behind the desk and down the ramp 
to the secret chamber below.
I knew that no one would guess where I had gone; and as Myr-lo was doubtless at 
the banquet, I should be able to accomplish with ease that which I had come here 
to do.
As I opened the door into the larger room, Myr-lo arose from the couch and faced 
me.
"What are you doing here, slave?" he demanded.
13
Here was a pretty pass! Everything seemed to be going wrong; first, the summons 
to the banquet hall; then Zithad; and now Myr-lo. I hated to do it, but there 
was no other way.
"Draw!" I said. I am no murderer; so I couldn't kill him unless he had a sword 
in his hand; but Myr-lo was not so ethical – he reached for the radium pistol at 
his hip. Fatal error! I crossed the intervening space in a single bound; and ran 
Myr-lo, the inventor of Kamtol, through the heart.
Without even waiting to wipe the blood from my blade, I ran into the smaller 
room. There was the master mechanism that held two hundred thousand souls in 
thrall, the hideous invention that had strewn the rim of the great rift with 
mouldering skeletons.
I looked about and found a heavy piece of metal; then I went for that insensate 
monster with all the strength and enthusiasm that I possess. In a few minutes it 
was an indescribable jumble of bent and broken parts – a total wreck.
Quickly I ran back into the next room, stripped Myr-lo's harness and weapons 
from his corpse and removed my own; then from my pocket pouch I took the article 
that I had purchased in the little shop. It was a jar of the ebony black cream 
with which the women of the First Born are wont to conceal the blemishes upon 
their glossy skins.
In ten minutes I was as black as the blackest Black Pirate that ever broke a 
shell. I donned Myr-lo's harness and weapons; and, except for my gray eyes, I 
was a noble of the First Born. I was glad now that Myr-lo. had not been at the 
banquet, for his harness would help to pass me through the palace and out of it, 
an ordeal that I had not been looking forward to with much relish; for I had 
been wearing the harness of the commonest of common warriors, and I very much 
doubted that they passed in and out of the palace late at night without being 
questioned – and I had no answers.
I got through the palace without encountering anyone, and when I approached the 
gate I commenced to stagger. I wanted them to think that a slightly inebriated 
guest was leaving early. I held my breath as I approached the warriors on guard; 
but they only saluted me respectfully, and I passed out into the avenues of 
Kamtol.
My plan had been to climb the façade of the hangar building, which I could have 
done because of the deep carving of its ornamentation; but that would probably 
have meant a fight with the guard on the roof as I clambered over the cornice. 
Now, I determined to try another, if no less hazardous, plan.
I walked straight to the entrance. There was but a single warrior on guard 
there. I paid no attention to him, but strode in. He hesitated; then he saluted, 
and I passed on and up the ramp. He had been impressed by the gorgeous trappings 
of Myr-lo, the noble.
My greatest obstacle to overcome now was the guard on the roof, where I had no 
doubt but that I should find several warriors. It might be difficult to convince 
them that even a noble would go flying alone at this time of night, but when I 
reached the roof there was not a single warrior in sight.
It took me but a moment to find the flier I had selected for the adventure when 
I had been there before, and but another moment to climb to its controls and 
start the smooth, silent motor.
The night was dark; neither moon was in the sky, and for that I was thankful. I 
rose in a steep spiral until I was high above the city; then I headed for the 
tower of Nastor's palace where Llana of Gathol was imprisoned.
The black hull of the flier rendered me invisible, I was sure, from the avenues 
below on a dark night such as this; and I came to the tower with every assurance 
that my whole plan had worked out with amazing success, even in spite of the 
untoward incidents that had seemed about to wreck it in its initial stages.
As I drew slowly closer to the windows of Llana's apartment, I heard a woman's 
muffled scream and a man's voice raised in anger. A moment later the prow of my 
ship touched the wall just below the window; and, seizing the bow line, I leaped 
across the sill into the chamber, Myr-lo's sword in my hand.
Across the room, a man was forcing Llana of Gathol back upon a couch. She was 
striking at him, and he was cursing her.
"Enough!" I cried, and the man dropped Llana and turned toward me. It was 
Nastor, the dator.
"Who are you?" he demanded. "What are you doing here?"
"I am John Carter, Prince of Helium," I replied; "and I am here to kill you."
He had already drawn, and our swords crossed even as I spoke.
"Perhaps you will recall me better as Dotar Sojat, the slave who cost you one 
hundred thousand tanpi," I said; "the prince who is going to cost you your 
life."
He commenced to shout for the guard, and I heard the sound of running footsteps 
which seemed to be coming up a ramp outside the door. I saw that I must finish 
Nastor quickly; but he proved a better swordsman than I had expected, although 
the encounter quickly developed into a foot race about the chamber.
The guard was coming closer when Llana darted to the door and pushed a heavy 
bolt into place; and not a moment too soon, for almost immediately I heard 
pounding on the door and the shouts of the warriors outside; and then I tripped 
upon a fur that had fallen from the couch during the struggle between Llana and 
Nastor, and I went down upon my back. Instantly Nastor leaped for me to run me 
through the heart. My sword was pointed up toward him, but he had all the 
advantage. I was about to die.
Only Llana's quick wit saved me. She leaped for Nastor from the rear and seized 
him about the ankles. He pitched forward on top of me, and my sword went through 
his heart, two feet of the blade protruding from his back. It took all my 
strength to wrest it free.
"Come, Llana!" I said.
"Where to?" she asked. "The corridor is full of warriors."
"The window," I said. "Come!"
As I turned toward the window, I saw the end of my line, that I had dropped 
during the fight, disappear over the edge of the sill. My ship had drifted away, 
and we were trapped.
I ran to the window. Twenty-five feet away, and a few feet below the level of 
the sill, floated escape and freedom, floated life for Llana of Gathol, for Pan 
Dan Chee, for Jad-han, and for me.
There was but a single hope. I stepped to the sill, measured the distance again 
with my eyes – and jumped. That I am narrating this adventure must assure you 
that I landed on the deck of that flier. A moment later it was beside the sill 
again, and Llana was aboard.
"Pan Dan Chee!" she said. "What has become of him? It seems cruel to abandon him 
to his fate."
Pan Dan Chee would have been the happiest man in the world could he have known 
that her first thought was for him, but I knew that the chances were that she 
would snub or insult him the first opportunity she had – women are peculiar that 
way.
I dropped swiftly toward the plaza. "Where are you going?" demanded Llana. 
"Aren't you afraid we'll be captured down there?"
"I am going for Pan Dan Chee," I said, and a moment later I landed close to 
Nastor's palace, and two men dashed from the shadows toward the ship. They were 
Pan Dan Chee and Jad-han.
As soon as they were aboard, I rose swiftly; and headed for Gathol. I could feel 
Pan Dan Chee looking at me. Finally he could contain himself no longer. "Who are 
you?" he demanded; "and where is John Carter?"
"I am now Myr-lo, the inventor," I said; "a short time ago I was Dotar Sojat the 
slave; but always I am John Carter."
"We are all together again," he said, "and alive; but for how long? Have you 
forgotten the skeletons on the rim of the rift?"
"You need not worry," I assured him. "The mechanism that laid them there has 
been destroyed."
He turned to Llana. "Llana of Gathol," he said, "we have been through much 
together; and there is no telling what the future holds for us. Once again I lay 
my heart at your feet."
"You may pick it up," said Llana of Gathol; "I am tired and wish to sleep."
BOOK 3
ESCAPE ON MARS
1
THERE WERE four of us aboard the flier I had stolen from the hangar at Kamtol to 
effect our escape from The Valley of the First Born: Llana of Gathol; Pan Dan 
Chee of Horz; Jad-han, the brother of Janai of Amhor; and I, John Carter, Prince 
of Helium and Warlord of Barsoom.
It was one of those startlingly gorgeous Martian nights that fairly take one's 
breath away. In the thin air of the dying planet, every star stands out in 
scintillant magnificence against the velvet blackness of the firmament in 
splendor inconceivable to an inhabitant of Earth.
As we rose above the great rift valley, both of Mars' moons were visible, and 
Earth and Venus were in conjunction, affording us a spectacle of incomparable 
beauty. Cluros, the farther moon, moved in stately dignity across the vault of 
heaven but fourteen thousand miles away, while Thuria, but four thousand miles 
distant, hurtled through the night from horizon to horizon in less than four 
hours, casting ever changing shadows on the ground below us which produced the 
illusion of constant movement, as though the surface of Mars was covered by 
countless myriads of creeping, crawling things. I wish that I might convey to 
you some conception of the weird and startling strangeness of the scene and of 
its beauty; but, unfortunately, my powers of description are wholly inadequate. 
But perhaps some day you, too, will visit Mars.
As we rose above the rim of the mighty escarpment which bounds the valley, I set 
our course for Gathol and opened the throttle wide, for I anticipated possible 
pursuit; but, knowing the possibilities for speed of this type of flier, I was 
confident that, with the start we had, nothing in Kamtol could overhaul us if we 
had no bad luck.
Gathol is supposed by many to be the oldest inhabited city on Mars, and is one 
of the few that has retained its freedom; and that despite the fact that its 
ancient diamond mines are the richest known and, unlike practically all the 
other diamond fields, are today apparently as inexhaustible as ever.
In ancient times the city was built upon an island in Throxeus, mightiest of the 
five oceans of old Barsoom. As the ocean receded, Gathol crept down the sides of 
the mountain, the summit of which was the island on which she had been built, 
until today she covers the slopes from summit to base, while the bowels of the 
great hill are honeycombed with the galleries of her mines.
Entirely surrounding Gathol is a great salt marsh, which protects it from 
invasion by land, while the rugged and ofttimes vertical topography of the 
mountain renders the landing of hostile airships a precarious undertaking.
Gahan, the father of Llana, is jed of Gathol, which is very much more than just 
a single city, comprising, as it does, some one hundred forty thousand square 
miles, much of which is fine grazing land where run their great herds of thoats 
and zitidars. It was to return Llana to her father and mother, Tara of Helium, 
that we had passed through so many harrowing adventures since we had left Horz. 
And now Llana was almost home; and I should soon be on my way to Helium and my 
incomparable Dejah Thoris, who must long since have given me up for dead.
Jad-han sat beside me at the controls, Llana slept, and Pan Dan Chee moped. 
Moping seems to be the natural state of all lovers. I felt sorry for Pan Dan 
Chee; and I could have relieved his depression by telling him that Llana's first 
words after I had rescued her from the tower of Nastor's palace had been of him 
– inquiring as to his welfare – but I didn't. I wished the man who won Llana of 
Gathol to win her by himself. If he gave up in despair while they both lived and 
she remained unmated; then he did not deserve her; so I let poor Pan Dan Chee 
suffer from the latest rebuff that Llana had inflicted upon him.
We approached Gathol shortly before dawn. Neither moon was in the sky, and it 
was comparatively dark. The city was dark, too; I saw not a single light. That 
was strange, and might forebode ill; for Martian cities are not ordinarily 
darkened except in times of war when they may be threatened by an enemy.
Llana came out of the tiny cabin and crouched on the deck beside me. "That looks 
ominous," she said.
"It does to me, too," I agreed; "and I'm going to stand off until daylight. I 
want to see what's going on before I attempt to land."
"Look over there," said Llana, pointing to the right of the black mass of the 
mountain; "see all those lights."
"The camp fires of the herdsmen, possibly," I suggested.
"There are too many of them," said Llana.
"They might also be the camp fires of warriors," said Jad-han.
"Here comes a flier," said Pan Dan Chee; "they have discovered us."
From below, a flier was approaching us rapidly. "A patrol flier doubtless," I 
said, but I opened the throttle and turned the flier's nose in the opposite 
direction. I didn't like the looks of things, and I wasn't going to let any ship 
approach until I could see its insigne. Then came a hail: "Who are you?"
"Who are you?" I demanded in return.
"Stop!" came the order, but I didn't stop; I was pulling away from him rapidly, 
as my ship was much the faster.
He fired then, but the shot went wide. Jad-han was at the stern gun. "Shall I 
let him have it?" he asked.
"No," I replied; "he may be Gatholian. Turn the searchlight on him, Pan Dan 
Chee; let's see if we can see his insigne."
Pan Dan Chee had never been on a ship before, nor ever seen a searchlight. The 
little remnant of the almost extinct race of Orovars, of which he was one, that 
hides away in ancient Horz, has neither ships nor searchlights; so Llana of 
Gathol came to his rescue, and presently the bow of the pursuing flier was 
brightly illuminated.
"I can't make out the insigne," said Llana, "but that is no ship of Gathol."
Another shot went wide of us, and I told Jad-han that he might fire. He did and 
missed. The enemy fired again; and I felt the projectile strike us, but it 
didn't explode. He had our range, so I started to zig zag, and his next two 
shots missed us. Jad-Han's also missed, and then we were struck again.
"Take the controls," I said to Llana, and I went back to the gun. "Hold her just 
as she is, Llana," I called, as I took careful aim. I was firing an explosive 
shell detonated by impact. It struck her full in the bow entered the hull, and 
exploded. It tore open the whole front of the ship, which burst into flame and 
commenced to go down by the bow. At first she went slowly; and then she took the 
last long, swift dive – a flaming meteor that crashed into the salt marsh and 
was extinguished.
"That's that," said Llana of Gathol.
"I don't think it's all of that as far as we are concerned," I retorted; "we are 
losing altitude rapidly; one of his shots must have ripped open a buoyancy 
tank."
I took the controls and tried to keep her up; as, with throttle wide open, I 
sought to pass that ring of camp fires before we were finally forced down.
2
That was a good little ship – staunch and swift, as are all the ships of The 
Black Pirates of Barsoom – and it carried us past the farthest camp fires before 
it finally settled to the ground just at dawn. We were close to a small forest 
of sorapus trees, and I thought it best to take shelter there until we could 
reconnoiter a bit.
"What luck"' exclaimed Llana, disgustedly, "and just when I was so sure that we 
were practically safe and sound in Gathol."
"What do we do now?" asked Pan Dan Chee.
"Our fate is in the hands of our ancestors," said Jad-han.
"But we won't leave it there," I assured them; "I feel that I am much more 
competent to direct my own fate than are my ancestors, who have been dead for 
many years. Furthermore, I am much more interested in it than they."
"I think perhaps you are on the right track there," said Llana, laughing, 
"although I wouldn't mind leaving my fate in the hands of my living ancestors – 
and now, just what is one of them going to do about it?"
"First I am going to find something to eat," I replied, "and then I am going to 
try to find out who were warming themselves at those fires last night; they 
might be friends, you know."
"I doubt it," said Llana; "but if they are friends, then Gathol is in the hands 
of enemies."
"We should know very shortly; and now you three remain here while I go and see 
if anything edible grows in this forest. Keep a good lookout."
I walked into the forest, looking for roots or herbs and that life giving plant, 
the mantalia, the milklike sap of which has saved me from death by thirst or 
starvation on many an occasion. But that forest seemed to be peculiarly barren 
of all forms of edible things, and I passed all the way through it and out upon 
the other side without finding anything that even a starving man would try to 
eat.
Beyond the forest, I saw some low hills; and that gave me renewed hope, as in 
some little ravine, where moisture might be held longest, I should doubtless 
find something worth taking back to my companions.
I had crossed about half the distance from the forest to the hills when I heard 
the unmistakable clank of metal and creaking of leather behind me; and, turning, 
saw some twenty red men mounted on riding thoats approaching me at a gallop, the 
nailless, padded feet of their mounts making no sound on the soft vegetation 
which covered the ground.
Facing them, I drew my sword; and they drew rein a few yards from me. "Are you 
men of Gathol?" I asked.
"Yes," replied one of them.
"Then I am a friend," I said.
The fellow laughed. "No Black Pirate of Barsoom is any friend of ours," he shot 
back.
For the moment I had forgotten the black pigment with which I had covered every 
inch of my face and body as a disguise to assist me in effecting my escape from 
The Black Pirates of the Valley of the First Born.
"I am not a Black Pirate," I said.
"Oh, no!" he cried; "then I suppose you are a white ape." At that they all 
laughed. "Come on now, sheathe your sword and come along with us. We'll let Gan 
Hor decide what is to be done with you, and I can tell you right now that Gan 
Hor doesn't like Black Pirates."
"Don't be a fool," I said; "I tell you I am no Black Pirate – this is just a 
disguise."
"Well," said the fellow, who thought he was something of a wit, "isn't it 
strange that you and I should meet? – I'm really a Black Pirate disguised as a 
red man." This simply convulsed his companions. When he could stop laughing at 
his own joke, he said, "Come on now, no more foolishness! Or do you want us to 
come and take you?"
"Come and take me!" I replied. In that, I made a mistake; but I was a little 
sore at being laughed at by these stupid fools.
They started circling me at a gallop; and as they did so, they uncoiled the 
ropes they use to catch thoats. They were whirling them about their heads now 
and shouting. Suddenly a dozen loops spun through the air at me simultaneously. 
It was a beautiful demonstration of roping, but I didn't really appreciate it at 
the moment. Those nooses settled around me from my neck to my heels, rendering 
me absolutely helpless as they yanked them taut; then the dozen whose ropes had 
ensnared me rode away all in the same direction, jerking me to the ground; nor 
did they stop there – they kept on going, dragging me along the ground.
My body rolled over and over in the soft ocher vegetation, and my captors kept 
riding faster and faster until their mounts were at a full run. It was a most 
undignified situation for a fighting man; it is like me that I thought first of 
the injury to my pride, rather than to the injury to my body – or the fact that 
much more of this would leave me but a bloody corpse at the ends of twelve 
rawhide ropes.
They must have dragged me half a mile before they finally stopped, and only the 
fact that the mosslike vegetation which carpets most of Mars is soft found me 
alive at the end of that experience.
The leader rode back to me, followed by the others. He took one look at me, and 
his eyes were wide. "By my first ancestor!" he exclaimed; "he is no Black Pirate 
– the black has rubbed off!"
I glanced at myself; sure enough, much of the pigment had been rubbed off 
against the vegetation through which I had been dragged, and my skin was now a 
mixture of black and white streaks smeared with blood.
The man dismounted; and, after disarming me, took the nooses from about me. "He 
isn't a Black Pirate and isn't even a red man," he said to his companions; "he's 
white and he has gray eyes. By my first ancestor, I don't believe he's a man at 
all. Can you stand up?"
I came to my feet. I was a little bit groggy, but I could stand. "I can stand," 
I said, "and if you want to find out whether or not I'm a man, give me back my 
sword and draw yours," and with that I slapped him in the face so hard that he 
fell down. I was so mad that I didn't care whether he killed me or not. He came 
to his feet cursing like a true pirate from the Spanish main.
"Give him his sword!" he shouted. "I was going to take him back to Gan Hor 
alive, but now I'll leave him here dead."
"You'd better take him back alive, Kor-an," advised one of his fellows. "We may 
have captured a spy; and if you kill him before Gan Hor can question him, it 
won't go so well for you."
"No man can strike me and live," shouted Kor-an; "where is his sword?"
One of them handed me my long sword, and I faced Kor-an. "To the death?" I 
asked.
"To the death!" replied Kor-an.
I shall not kill you, Kor-an," I said; "and you cannot kill me, but I shall 
teach you a lesson that you will not soon forget." I spoke in a loud tone of 
voice, that the others might hear.
One of them laughed, and said, "You don't know who you're talking to, fellow. 
Kor-an is one of the finest swordsmen in Gathol. You will be dead in five 
minutes."
"In one," said Kor-an, and came for me.
I went to work on Kor-an then, after trying to estimate roughly how many 
bleeding cuts and scratches I had on my body. He was a furious but clumsy 
fighter. In the first second I drew blood from his right breast; then I cut a 
long gash in his right thigh. Again and again I touched him, drawing blood from 
cuts or scratches. I could have killed him at any time, and he could touch me 
nowhere.
"It has been more than a minute, Kor-an," I said.
He did not reply; he was breathing heavily, and I could tell from his eyes that 
he was afraid. His companions sat in silence, watching every move.
Finally, after I had cut his body from forehead to toe, I stepped back, lowering 
my point. "Have you had enough, Kor-an?" I asked, "or do you want me to kill 
you?"
"I chose to fight to the death," he said, courageously; "it is your right to 
kill me – and I know that you can. I know that you could have killed me any time 
from the moment we crossed swords."
"I have no wish to kill a brave man," I said.
"Call the whole thing off," said one of the others; "you are up against the 
greatest swordsman anyone ever saw, Kor-an."
"No," said Kor-an, "I should be disgraced, if I stopped before I killed him or 
he killed me. Come!" He raised his point.
I dropped my sword to the ground and faced him. "You now have your chance to 
kill me," I told him.
"But that would be murder," he said; "I am no assassin."
"Neither am I, Kor-an; and if I ran you through, even while you carried your 
sword, I should be as much a murderer as you, were you to kill me now; for even 
with a sword in your hand you are as much unarmed against me as I am now against 
you."
"The man is right," spoke up one of the Gatholians. "Sheathe your sword, Kor-an; 
no one will hold it against you."
Kor-an looked at the others, and they all urged him to quit. He rammed his sword 
into its scabbard and mounted his thoat. "Get up behind me," he said to me. I 
mounted and they were off at a gallop.
3
After about half an hour they entered another grove of sorapus, and presently 
came to a cluster of the rude huts used by the warrior-herdsmen of Gathol. Here 
was the remainder of the troop to which my captors belonged. These herdsmen are 
the warriors of Gathol, being divided into regular military units. This one was 
a utan of a hundred men commanded by a dwar, with two padwars, or lieutenants 
under him. They remain on this duty for one month, which is equivalent to about 
seventy days of Earth time; then they are relieved and return to Gathol city.
Gan Hor, the dwar, was sitting in front of one of the shelters playing jetan 
with a padwar when I was taken before him by Kor-an. He looked us both up and 
down for a full minute. "In the name of Issus!" he exclaimed, "what have you two 
been doing – playing with a herd of banths or a tribe of white apes? And who is 
this? He is neither red nor black."
"A prisoner," said Kor-an; then he explained quite honestly why we were in the 
condition we were.
Gan Hor scowled. "I'll take this matter up with you later, Kor-an," he said; 
then he turned to me.
"I am the father of Tara of Helium," I said, "the princess of your jed."
Gan Hor leaped to his feet, and Kor-an staggered as though he had been struck; I 
thought he was going to fall.
"John Carter!" exclaimed Gan Hor. "The white skin, the gray eyes, the 
swordsmanship of which Kor-an has told me. I have never seen John Carter, but 
you could be no other;" then he wheeled upon Kor-an. "And you dragged the Prince 
of Helium, Warlord of Barsoom for half a mile at the ends of your ropes!" He was 
almost screaming. "For that, you die!"
"No," I said. "Kor-an and I have settled that between us; he is to be punished 
no further."
These warrior-herdsmen of Gathol live much like our own desert nomads, moving 
from place to place as the requirements of pasturage and the presence of water 
dictate. There is no surface water in Gathol other than the moisture in the salt 
marsh that encircles the city; but in certain places water may be found by 
sinking wells, and in these spots they make their camps, as here in the sorapus 
grove to which I had been brought.
Gan Hor had water brought for me; and while I was washing away the black 
pigment, the dirt, and the blood, I told him that Llana of Gathol and two 
companions were not far from the spot where Kor-an had captured me; and he sent 
one of his padwars with a number of warriors and three extra thoats to bring 
them in.
"And now," I said, "tell me what is happening to Gathol. The fact that we were 
attacked last night, coupled with the ring of camp fires encircling the city, 
suggests that Gathol is besieged by an enemy."
"You are right," replied Gan Hor; "Gathol is surrounded by the troops of Hin 
Abtol who styles himself Jeddak of Jeddaks of the North. He came here some time 
ago in an ancient and obsolete flier, but as he came in peace he was treated as 
an honored guest by Gahan. They say that he proved himself an egotistical 
braggart and an insufferable boor, and ended by demanding that Gaban give him 
Llana as a wife – he already had seven, he boasted.
"Of course, Gahan told him that Llana of Gathol would choose her own mate; and 
when Llana refused his proposition, he threatened to come back and take her by 
force. Then he went away, and the next day our Princess started out for Helium 
on a ship with twenty-five members of her personal guard. She never reached 
Helium, nor has she been seen or heard of since, until you just told me that she 
is alive and has returned to Gathol.
"But we soon heard from Hin Abtol. He came back with a large fleet of the most 
ancient and obsolete fliers that I have ever seen; some of his ships must be 
over a hundred years old. Hin Abtol came back, and he demanded the surrender of 
Gathol.
"His ships were crammed with warriors, thousands of whom leaped overboard and 
descended upon the city with equilibrimotors. There was fighting in the avenues 
and upon the roofs of buildings all of one day, but we eventually destroyed or 
made prisoners of all of them; so, finding that he could not take the city by 
storm, Hin Abtol laid siege to it.
"He has sent all but a few of his ships away, and we believe that they have 
returned to the frozen north for reinforcements. We who were on herd duty at the 
beginning of the investment are unable to return to the city, but we are 
continually harassing the warriors of Hin Abtol who are encamped upon the 
plain."
"So they are using equilibrimotors," I said; "it seems strange that any peoples 
from the frozen north should have these. They were absolutely unknown in Okar 
when I was there."
The equilibrimotor is an ingenious device for individual flying. It consists of 
a broad belt, not unlike the life belt used aboard passenger ships on Earth; the 
belt is filled with the eighth Barsoomian ray, or ray of propulsion, to a 
sufficient degree to equalize the pull of gravity and thus to maintain a person 
in equilibrium between that force and the opposite force exerted by the eighth 
ray. Attached to the back of the belt is a small radium motor, the controls for 
which are on the front of the belt; while rigidly attached to and projecting 
from the upper rim of the belt is a strong, light wing with small hand levers 
for quickly altering its position. I could understand that they might prove very 
effective for landing troops in an enemy city by night.
I had listened to Gan Hor with feelings of the deepest concern, for I knew that 
Gathol was not a powerful country and that a long and persistent siege must 
assuredly reduce it unless outside help came. Gathol depends for its food 
supplies upon the plains which comprise practically all of its territory. The 
far northwest corner of the country is cut by one of Barsoom's famous canals; 
and here the grains, and vegetables, and fruits which supply the city are 
raised; while upon her plains graze the herds that supply her with meat. And 
enemy surrounding the city would cut off all these supplies; and while Gahan 
doubtless had reserves stored in the city, they could not last indefinitely.
In discussing this with Gan Hor, I remarked that if I could get hold of a flier 
I'd return to Helium and bring a fleet of her mighty war ships and transports 
with guns and men enough to wipe Hin Abtol and his Panars off the face of 
Barsoom.
"Well," said Gan Hor, "your flier is here; it came with Hin Abtol's fleet. One 
of my men recognized it and your insigne upon it the moment he saw it; and we 
have all been wondering how Hin Abtol acquired it; but then, he has ships from a 
score of different nations, and has not bothered to remove their insignia."
"He found it in a courtyard in the deserted city of Horz," I explained; "and 
when he was attacked by green men, he made off in it with a couple of his 
warriors, leaving the others to be killed."
Just then the padwar who had gone to fetch Llana, Pan Dan Chee, and Jad-han 
returned with his detachment – and three riderless thoats!
"They were not there," he said; "though we searched everywhere, we could not 
find them; but there was blood on the ground where they had been."
4
So Llana of Gathol was lost to me again! That she had been captured by Hin 
Abtol's warriors, there seemed little doubt. I asked Gan Hor for a thoat, that I 
might ride out and examine the spot at which the party had been taken; and he 
not only acceded to my request, but accompanied me with a detachment of his 
warriors.
There had evidently been a fight at the place that I had left them; the 
vegetation was trampled, and there was blood upon it; but so resilient is this 
mosslike carpeting of the dead sea bottoms of Mars, that, except for the blood, 
the last traces of the encounter were fast disappearing; and there was no 
indication of the direction taken by Llana's captors.
"How far are their lines from here?" I asked Gan Hor.
"About nine haads," he replied – that is not quite three Earth miles.
"We might as well return to your camp," I said; "we haven't a sufficiently 
strong force to accomplish anything now. I shall return after dark."
"We can make a little raid on one of their encampments tonight," suggested Gan 
Hor.
"I shall go alone," I told him; "I have a plan.
"But it won't be safe," he objected. "I have a hundred men with whom I am 
constantly harassing them; we should be glad to ride with you."
"I am going only for information, Gan Hor; I can get that better alone."
We returned to camp, and with the help of one of Gan Hor's warriors I applied to 
my face and body the red pigment that I always carry with me for use when I find 
it necessary to disguise myself as a native born red man – a copper colored 
ointment such as had first been given me by the Ptor brothers of Zodanga many 
years ago.
After dark I set out on thoatback, accompanied by Gan Hor and a couple of his 
warriors; as I had accepted his offer of transportation to a point much nearer 
the Panar lines. Fortunately the heavens were temporarily moonless, and we came 
quite close to the enemy's first fires before I dismounted and bid my new 
friends goodby.
"Good luck!" said Gan Hor; "and you'll need it."
Kor-an was one of the warriors who had accompanied us. "I'd like to go with you, 
Prince," he said; "thus I might atone for the thing I did."
"If I could take anyone, I'd take you, Kor-an," I assured him. "Anyway, you have 
nothing to atone for; but if you want to do something for me, promise that you 
will fight always for Tara of Helium and Llana of Gathol."
"On my sword, I swear it," he said; and then I left them and made my way 
cautiously toward the Panar camp.
Once again, as upon so many other occasions, I used the tactics of another race 
of red warriors – the Apaches of our own Southwest – worming my way upon my 
belly closer and closer toward the lines of the enemy. I could see the forms of 
warriors clustered about their fires, and I could hear their voices and their 
rough laughter; and, as I drew nearer, the oaths and obscenities which seem to 
issue most naturally from the mouths of fighting men; and when a gust of wind 
blew from the camp toward me, I could even smell the sweat and the leather 
mingling with the acrid fumes of the smoke of their fires.
A sentry paced his post between me and the fires; when he came closest to me, I 
flattened myself upon the ground. I heard him yawn. When he was almost on top of 
me, I rose up before him; and before he could voice a warning cry, I seized him 
by the throat. Three times I drove my dagger into his heart. I hate to kill like 
that; but now there was no other way, and it was not for myself that I killed 
him – it was for Llana of Gathol, for Tara of Helium, and for Dejah Thoris, my 
beloved princess.
Just as I lowered his body to the ground, a warrior at a nearby fire arose and 
looked out toward us. "What was that?" he asked his fellows.
"The sentry," one of them replied; "there he is now." I was slowly pacing the 
post of the departed, hoping none would come to investigate.
"I could have sworn I saw two men scuffling there," said the first speaker.
"You are always seeing things," said a third.
I walked the post until they had ceased to discuss the matter and had turned 
their attention elsewhere; then I knelt beside the dead man and removed his 
harness and weapons, which I immediately donned. Now I was, to outward 
appearances anyway, a soldier of Hin Abtol, a Panar from some glazed, hothouse 
city of the frozen North.
Walking to the far end of my post, I left it and entered the camp at some 
distance from the group which included the warrior whose suspicions I had 
aroused. Although I passed close to another group of warriors, no one paid any 
attention to me. Other individuals were wandering around from fire to fire, and 
so my movements attracted no notice.
I must have walked fully a haad inside the lines away from my point of entry 
before I felt that it would be safe to stop and mix with the warriors. Finally I 
saw a lone warrior sitting beside a fire, and approached him.
"Kaor!" I said, using the universal greeting of Barsoom.
"Kaor!" he replied. "Sit down. I am a stranger here and have no friends in this 
dar." A dar is a unit of a thousand men, analogous to our Earthly regiment. "I 
just came down today with a fresh contingent from Pankor. It is good to move 
about and see the world again, after having been frozen in for fifty years."
"You haven't been away from Pankor for fifty years!" I exclaimed, guessing that 
Pankor was the name of the Arctic city from which he hailed, and hoping that I 
was guessing right.
"No," he said; "and you! How long were you frozen in?"
"I have never been to Pankor," I said; "I am a panthan who has just joined up 
with Hin Abtol's forces since they came south." I thought this the safest 
position to take, since I should be sure to arouse suspicion were I to claim 
familiarity with Pankor, when I had never been there.
"Well," said my companion, "you must be crazy."
"Why?" I asked.
"Nobody but a crazy man would put himself in the power of Hin Abtol. Well, 
you've done it; and now you'll be taken to Pankor after this war is over, unless 
you're lucky enough to be killed; and you'll be frozen in there until Hin Abtol 
needs you for another campaign. What's your name?"
"Dotor Sojat," I replied, falling back on that old time name the green Martian 
horde of Thark had given me so many years before.
"Mine is Em-tar; I am from Kobol."
"I thought you said you were from Pankor."
"I'm a Kobolian by birth," he explained. "Where are you from?"
"We panthans have no country," I reminded him.
"But you must have been born somewhere," he insisted.
"Perhaps the less said about that the better," I said, attempting a sly wink.
He laughed. "Sorry I asked," he said.
Sometimes, when a man has committed a political crime, a huge reward is offered 
for information concerning his whereabouts; so, as well as changing his name, he 
never divulges the name of his country. I let Em-tar think that I was a fugitive 
from justice.
"How do you think this campaign is going?" I asked.
"If Hin Abtol can starve them out, he may win," replied Em-tar; "but from what I 
have heard he could never take the city by storm. These Gatholians are great 
fighters, which is more than can be said for those who fight under Hin Abtol – 
our hearts aren't in it; we have no feeling of loyalty for Hin Abtol; but these 
Gatholians now, they're fighting for their homes and their jed; and they love 
'em both. They say that Gahan's Princess is a daughter of The Warlord of 
Barsoom. Say, if he hears about this and brings a fleet and an army from Helium, 
we might just as well start digging our graves."
"Are we taking many prisoners?" I asked.
"Not many. Three were taken this morning; one of them was the daughter of Gahan, 
the Jed of Gathol; the other two were men."
"That's interesting," I said; "I wonder what Hin Abtol will do with the daughter 
of Gahan."
"That I wouldn't know," replied Em-tar, "but they say he's sent her off to 
Pankor already. You hear a lot of rumors in an army, though; and most of them 
are wrong."
"I suppose Hin Abtol has a big fleet of fliers," I said.
"He's got a lot of old junk, and not many men capable of flying what he has 
got."
"I'm a flier," I said.
"You'd better not let 'em know it, or they'll have you on board some old wreck," 
advised Em-tar.
"Where's their landing field here?"
"Down that way about a haad;" he pointed in the direction I had been going when 
I stopped to talk with him.
"Well, goodby, Em-tar," I said, rising.
"Where are you going?"
"To fly for Hin Abtol of Pankor," I said.
5
I made my way through the camp to where a number of fliers were lined up; it was 
an extremely ragged, unmilitary line, suggesting inefficiency; and the ships 
were the most surprising aggregation of obsolete relics I have ever seen; most 
of them were museum pieces.
Some warriors were sitting around fires nearby; and, assuming that they were 
attached to the flying service, I approached them.
"Where is the flying officer in command?" I asked.
"Over there," said one of the men, pointing at the largest ship on the line. 
"Why – do you want to see him?"
"Yes."
"Well, he's probably drunk."
"He is drunk," said another.
"What's his name?" I asked.
"Odwar Phor San," replied my informant. Odwar is about the same as general, or 
brigadier general. He commands ten thousand men in the army and a fleet in the 
navy.
"Thanks," I said; "I'll go over and see him."
"You wouldn't, if you knew him; he's as mean as an ulsio."
I walked over to the big ship. It was battered and weatherbeaten, and must have 
been at least fifty years old. A boarding ladder hung down amidships, and at its 
foot stood a warrior with drawn sword.
"What do you want?" he demanded
"I have a message for Odwar Phor San," I said.
"who is it from?"
"That is none of your business," I told him', "send word to the odwar that Dotor 
Sojat wishes to see him on an important matter."
The fellow saluted with mock elaborateness. "I didn't know we had a jedwar among 
us," he said. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Now, jedwar is the highest rank in a Barsoomian army or navy, other than that of 
jed or jeddak or Warlord, a rank created especially for me by the jeddaks of 
five empires. That warrior would have been surprised could he have known that he 
had conferred upon me a title far inferior to my own.
I laughed at his little joke, and said, "One never knows whom one is 
entertaining."
"If you really have a message for the old ulsio, I'll call the deck watch; but, 
by Issus, you'd better have a message of importance."
"I have," I assured him; and I spoke the truth, for it was of tremendous 
importance to me; so he hailed the deck watch and told him to tell the odwar 
that Dotor Sojat had come with an important message for him.
I waited about five minutes, and then I was summoned aboard and conducted to one 
of the cabins. A gross, slovenly man sat before a table on which was a large 
tankard and several heavy, metal goblets. He looked at me scowlingly out of 
bleary eyes.
"What does that son of a calot want now?" he demanded.
I guessed that he referred to a superior officer, and probably to Hin Abtol. 
Well, if he thought I bore a message from Hin Abtol, so much the better.
"I am to report to you as an experienced flier," I said.
"He sent you at this time of night to report to me as a flier?" he almost 
shouted at me.
"You have few experienced fliers," I said. "I am a panthan who has flown every 
type of ship in the navy of Helium. I gathered that you would be glad to get me 
before some other commander snapped me up. I am a navigator, and familiar with 
all modern instruments, but if you don't want me I shall then be free to attach 
myself elsewhere."
He was befuddled by strong drink, or I'd probably never have gotten away with 
such a bluff. He pretended to be considering the matter seriously; and while he 
considered it, he poured himself another drink, which he swallowed in two or 
three gulps – what didn't run down his front. Then he filled another goblet and 
pushed it across the table toward me, slopping most of its contents on the table 
top.
"Have drink!" he said.
"Not now," I said; "I never drink when I am on duty."
"You're not on duty."
"I am always on duty; I may have to take a ship up at any moment."
He pondered this for several minutes with the assistance of another drink; then 
he filled another goblet and pushed it across the table toward me. "Have drink," 
he said.
I now had two full goblets in front of me; it was evident that Phor San had not 
noticed that I had failed to drink the first one.
"What ship shall I command?" I asked; I was promoting myself rapidly. Phor San 
paid no attention to my question, being engaged in what was now becoming a 
delicate and difficult operation – the pouring of another drink; most of it went 
on the table, from where it ran down into his lap.
"What ship did you say I was to command?" I demanded.
He looked bewildered for a moment; then he tried to draw himself together with 
military dignity. "You will command the Dusar, Dwar," he said; then he filled 
another goblet and pushed it toward me. "Have drink, Dwar," he said. My 
promotion was confirmed.
I walked over to a desk covered with an untidy litter of papers, and searched 
until I found an official blank; on it I wrote:
  To Dwar Dotor Sojat:
  You will immediately take over command of ship Dusar.
  By order of
  Odwar Commanding
After finding a cloth and wiping the liquor from the table in front of him, I 
laid the order down and handed him a pen.
"You forgot to sign this, Odwar," I said. He was commencing to weave, and I saw 
that I must hurry.
"Sign what?" he demanded, reaching for the tankard.
I pushed it away from him, took his hand, and placed the pen point at the right 
place on the order blank. "Sign here," I ordered.
"Sign here," he repeated, and laboriously scrawled his name; then he fell 
forward on the table, asleep. I had been just in time.
I went on deck; both moons were now in the sky, Cluros just above the horizon, 
Thuria a little higher; by the time Cluros approached zenith, Thuria would have 
completed her orbit around Barsoom and passed him, so swift her flight through 
the heavens.
The deck watch approached me. "Where lies the Dusar?" I asked.
He pointed down the line. "About the fifth or sixth ship, I think," he said.
I went overside; and as I reached the ground, the sentry there asked, "Was the 
old ulsio as drunk as ever?"
"He was perfectly sober," I replied.
"Then some one had better send for the doctor," he said, "for he must be sick.".
I walked along the line, and at the fifth ship I approached the sentry at the 
foot of its ladder. "Is this the Dusar?" I asked.
"Can't you read?" he demanded, impudently.
I look up then at the insigne on the ship's bow; it was the Dusar. "Can you 
read? , I asked, and held the order up in front of him.
He snapped to attention and saluted. "I couldn't tell by your metal," he said, 
sullenly. He was quite right; I was wearing the metal of a common warrior.
I looked the ship over. From the ground it hadn't a very promising appearance – 
just a disreputable, obsolete old hulk. Then I climbed the ladder and stepped to 
the deck of my new command; there was no boatswain's call to pipe the side; 
there was only one man on watch; and he was curled up on the deck, fast asleep.
I walked over and poked him with the toe of a sandal. "Wake up, there!" I 
ordered.
He opened an eye and looked up at me; then he leaped to his feet. "Who are you?" 
he demanded. "What are you doing here? What do you mean by kicking me in the 
ribs and waking me up?"
"One question at a time, my man," I said. "I shall answer your first question, 
and that will answer the others also." I held the order out to him.
As he took it, he said, "Don't call me my man, you–" But he stopped there; he 
had read the order. He saluted and handed the order back to me, but I noticed 
just the suggestion of a grin on his face.
"Why did you smile?" I asked.
"I was thinking that you probably got the softest job in Hin Abtol's navy," he 
said.
"What do you mean?"
"You won't have anything to do; the Dusar is out of commission – she won't fly."
So! Perhaps Odwar Phor San was not as drunk as I had thought him.
6
The deck of the Dusar was weatherbeaten and filthy; everything was in disorder, 
but what difference did that make if the ship wouldn't fly?
"How many officers and men comprise her complement?" I asked.
The fellow grinned and pointed to himself. "One," he said, "or, rather, two, now 
that you are here."
I asked him his name, and he said that it was Fo-nar. In the United States he 
would have been known as an ordinary seaman, but the Martian words for seaman 
and sailor are now as obsolete as the oceans with which they died, almost from 
the memory of man. All sailors and soldiers are known as thans, which I have 
always translated as warriors.
"Well, Fo-nar," I said; "let's have a look at our ship. What's wrong with her? 
Why won't she fly?"
"It's the engine, sir," he said; "it won't start any more."
"I'll have a look over the ship," I said, "and then we'll see if we can't do 
something about the engine."
I took Fo-nar with me and went below. Everything there was filthy and in 
disorder. "How long has she been out of commission?" I asked.
"About a month."
"You certainly couldn't have made all this mess by yourself in a month," I said.
"No, sir; she was always like this even when she was flying," he said.
"Who commanded her? Whoever he was, he should be cashiered for permitting a ship 
to get in this condition."
"He won't ever be cashiered, sir," said Fo-nar.
"Why?" I asked.
"Because he got drunk and fell overboard on our last flight," Fo-nar explained, 
with a grin.
I inspected the guns, there were eight of them, four on a side beside smaller 
bow and stern guns on deck; they all seemed to be in pretty fair condition, and 
there was plenty of ammunition. The bomb racks in the bilge were full, and there 
was a bomb trap forward and another aft.
There were quarters for twenty-five men and three officers, a good galley, and 
plenty of provisions. If I had not seen Odwar Phor San, I could not have 
understood why all this material – guns, ammunition, provisions, and tackle – 
should have been left on a ship permanently out of commission. The ship appeared 
to me to be about ten years old – that is, after a careful inspection; 
superficially, it looked a hundred.
I told Fo-nar to go back on deck and go to sleep, if he wished to; and then I 
went into the dwar's cabin and lay down; I hadn't had much sleep the night 
before, and I was tired. It was daylight when I awoke, and I found Fo-nar in the 
galley getting his breakfast. I told him to prepare mine, and after we had both 
eaten I went to have a look at the engine.
It hurt me to go through that ship and see the condition its drunken skipper had 
permitted it to get into. I love these Barsoomian fliers, and I have been in the 
navy of Helium for so many years that ships have acquired almost human 
personalities for me. I have designed them; I have superintended their 
construction; I have developed new ideas in equipment, engines, and armament; 
and several standard flying and navigating instruments are of my invention. If 
there is anything I don't know about a modern Martian flier; then nobody else 
knows it.
I found tools and practically dismantled the engine, checking every part. While 
I was doing this, I had Fo-nar start cleaning up the ship. I told him to start 
with my cabin and then tackle the galley next. It would have taken one man a 
month or more to put the Dusar in even fair condition, but at least we would 
make a start.
I hadn't been working on the engine half an hour before I found what was wrong 
with it – just dirt! Every feed line was clogged; and that marvellous, 
concentrated, Martian fuel could not reach the motor.
I was appalled by the evidence of such stupidity and inefficiency, though not 
entirely surprised; drunken commanders and Barsoomian fliers just don't go 
together. In the navy of Helium, no officer drinks while on board ship or on 
duty; and not one of them drinks to excess at any time.
If an officer were ever drunk on board his ship, the crew would see to it that 
he was never drunk again; they know that their lives are in the hands of their 
officers, and they don't purpose trusting them to a drunken man – they simply 
push the officer overboard. It is such a well established custom, or used to be 
before drinking on the part of officers practically ceased, that no action was 
ever taken against the warrior who took discipline into his own hands, even 
though the act were witnessed by officers. I rather surmised that this time 
honored custom had had something to do with the deplorable accident that had 
robbed the Dusar of her former commander.
The day was practically gone by the time I had cleaned every part of the engine 
thoroughly and reassembled it; then I started it; and the sweet, almost 
noiseless and vibrationless, hum of it was music to my ears. I had a ship – a 
ship that would fly!
One man can operate such a ship, but of course he can't fight it. Where, 
however, could I get men? I didn't want just any men; I wanted good fighting men 
who would just as lief fight against Hin Abtol as not.
Pondering this problem I went to my cabin to clean up; it looked spick-and-span. 
Fo-nar had done a good job; he had also laid out the harness and metal of a dwar 
– doubtless the property of the late commander. Bathed and properly garbed, I 
felt like a new man as I stepped out onto the upper deck. Fo-nar snapped to 
attention and saluted.
"Fo-nar," I said, "are you a Panar?"
"I should say not," he replied with some asperity. "I am from Jahar originally, 
but now I have no country – I am a panthan."
"You were there during the reign of Tul Axtar?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied; "it was on his account that I became an exile – I tried to 
kill him, and I got caught; I just barely escaped with my life. I cannot go back 
so long as he is alive."
"You can go back, then," I said; "Tul Axtar is dead."
Tow do you know, sir?"
"I know the man who killed him."
"Just my luck!" exclaimed Fo-nar; "now that I might go back, I can't."
"Why can't you?"
"For the same reason, sir, that where ever you are from you'll never go back, 
unless you are from Panar, which I doubt."
"No, I am not from Panar," I said; "but what makes you think I won't go back to 
my own country?"
"Because no one upon whom Hin Abtol gets his hands ever escapes, other than 
through death."
7
"Oh, come, Fo-nar," I said; "that is ridiculous. What is to prevent either one 
of us from deserting?"
"If we deserted here," he replied, "we would immediately be picked up by the 
Gatholians and killed; after this campaign is over, we will not make a landing 
until we reach Panar; and from Panar there is no escape. Hin Abtol's ships never 
stop at a friendly city, where one might find an opportunity to escape; for 
there are no cities friendly to Hin Abtol. He attacks every city that he 
believes he can take, sacks it, and flies away with all the loot he can gather 
and with as many prisoners as his ships will carry – mostly men; they say he has 
a million now, and that he plans eventually to conquer Helium and then all of 
Barsoom. He took me prisoner when he sacked Raxar on his way down from Panar to 
Gathol; I was serving there in the army of the jed."
"You would like to return to Jahar?" I asked.
"Certainly," he replied. "My mate is there, if she still lives; I have been gone 
twenty years."
"You feel no loyalty toward Hin Abtol?"
"Absolutely none," he replied; "why?"
"I think I can tell you. I have the same power that all Barsoomians have of 
being able to read the mind of another when he happens to be off guard; and a 
couple of times, Fo-nar, your subconscious mind has dropped its guard and 
permitted me to read your thoughts; I have learned several things about you. One 
is that you are constantly wondering about me – who I am and whether I am to be 
trusted. For another thing, I have learned that you despise the Panars. I also 
discovered that you were no common warrior in Jahar, but a dwar in the jeddak's 
service – you were thinking about that when you first saw me in the metal and 
harness of a dwar."
Fo-nar smiled. "You read well," he said; "I must be more careful. You read much 
better than I do, or else you guard your thoughts more jealously than I; for I 
have not been able to obtain even the slightest inkling of what is passing in 
your mind."
"No man has ever been able to read my mind," I said, and that is very strange, 
too, and quite inexplicable. The Martians have developed mind reading to a point 
where it is a fine art, but none has ever been able to read my mind. Perhaps 
that is because it is the mind of an Earth man, and may account for the fact 
that telepathy has not advanced far on our planet.
"You are fortunate," said Fo-nar; "but please go on and tell me what you started 
to."
"Well," I said, "in the first place, I have repaired the engine – the Dusar can 
now fly."
"Good!" exclaimed Fo-nar. "I said you were no Panar; they are the stupidest 
people in the world. No Panar could ever have repaired it; all they can do is 
let things go to wrack and ruin. Go on."
"Now we need a crew. Can we find from fifteen to twenty-five men whom we can 
trust and who can fight – men who will follow me anywhere I lead them to win 
their freedom from Hin Abtol?"
"I can find you all the men you need," replied Fo-nar.
"Get busy then," I said; "you are now First Padwar of the Dusar."
"I am getting up in the world again," said Fo-nar, laughing. "I'll start out 
immediately, but don't expect a miracle – it may take a little time to find the 
right men."
"Have them report to the ship after dark, and tell them to be sure that no one 
sees them. What can we do about that sentry at the foot of the ladder?"
"The one who was on duty when you came aboard is all right," said Fo-nar; "he'll 
come with us. He's on from the eighth to the ninth zodes, and I'll tell the men 
to come at that time."
"Good luck, padwar!" I said, as he went overside.
The remainder of the day dragged slowly. I spent some time in my cabin looking 
through the ship's papers. Barsoomian ships keep a log just as Earth ships do, 
and I occupied several hours looking through the log of the Dusar. The ship had 
been captured four years before while on a scientific expedition to the Arctic, 
since then, under Panar commanders, the log had been very poorly kept. Some 
times there were no entries for a week, and those that were made were 
unprofessional and sloppy; the more I learned about the Panars the less I liked 
them – and to think that the creature who ruled them aspired to conquer a world!
About the end of the seventh zode Fo-nar returned. "I had much better luck than 
I anticipated," he said; "every man I approached knew three or four he could 
vouch for; so it didn't take long to get twenty-five. I think, too, that I have 
just the man for Second Padwar. He was a padwar in the army of Helium, and has 
served on many of her ships."
"What is his name?" I asked. I have known many men from Helium."
"He is Tan Hadron of Hastor," replied Fo-nar.
Tan Hadron of Hastor! Why, he was one of my finest officers. What ill luck could 
have brought him to the navy of Hin Abtol?
"Tan Hadron of Hastor," I said aloud; "the name sounds a little familiar; it is 
possible that I knew him." I did not wish anyone to know that I was John Carter, 
Prince of Helium; for if it became known, and I was captured, Hin Abtol could 
have wrested an enormous ransom from Tardos Mors, Jeddak of Helium and 
grandfather of my mate, Dejah Thoris.
Immediately after the eighth zode, warriors commenced to come aboard the Dusar. 
I had instructed Fo-nar to immediately send them below to their quarters, for I 
feared that too much life on the deck of the Dusar might attract attention; I 
had also told him to send Tan Hadron to my cabin as soon as he came aboard.
About half after the eighth zode someone scratched on my door; and when I bade 
him enter, Tan Hadron stepped into the cabin. My red skin and Panar harness 
deceived him, and he did not recognize me.
"I am Tan Hadron of Hastor," he said; "Padwar Fo-nar instructed me to report to 
you."
"You are not a Panar?" I asked.
He stiffened. "I am a Heliumite from the city of Hastor," he said, proudly.
"Where is Hastor?" I asked.
He looked surprised at such ignorance. "It lies directly south of Greater Helium 
sir; about five hundred haads. You will pardon me," he added, "but I understood 
from Padwar Fo-nar that you knew many men from Helium, and so I imagined that 
you had visited the empire; in fact he gave me to understand that you had served 
in our navy."
"That is neither here nor there," I said. "Fo-nar has recommended you for the 
post of Second Padwar aboard the Dusar. You will have to serve me faithfully and 
follow where ever I lead; your reward will consist of your freedom from Hin 
Abtol."
I could see that he was a little bit skeptical about the whole proposition now 
that he had met me – a man who had never heard of Hastor couldn't amount to 
much; but he touched the hilt of his sword and said that he would follow me 
loyally.
"Is that all, sir?" he asked.
"Yes," I said; "for the time being. After the men are all aboard I shall have 
them mustered below deck, and at that time I shall name the officers; please be 
there."
He saluted, and turned to go.
"Oh, by the way," I called to him, "how is Tavia?"
At that he wheeled about as though he had been shot, and his eyes went wide. 
"What do you know of Tavia, sir?" he demanded. Tavia is his mate.
"I know that she is a very lovely girl, and that I can't understand why you are 
not back in Hastor with her; or are you stationed in Helium now?"
He came a little closer, and looked at me intently. As a matter of fact, the 
light was not very good in my cabin, or he would have recognized me sooner. 
Finally his jaw dropped, and then he unbuckled his sword and threw it at my 
feet. "John Carter!" he exclaimed.
"Not so loud, Hadron," I cautioned; "no one here knows who I am; and no one 
must, but you."
"You had a good time with me, didn't you, sir?" he laughed.
"It has been some time since I have had anything to laugh about," I said; "so I 
hope you will forgive me; now tell me about yourself and how you got into this 
predicament."
"Perhaps half the navy of Helium is looking for Llana of Gathol and you," he 
said. "Rumors of the whereabouts of one or the other of you have come from all 
parts of Barsoom. Like many another officer I was scouting for you or Llana in a 
one man flier. I had bad luck, sir; and here I am. One of Hin Abtol's ships shot 
me down, and then landed and captured me."
"Llana of Gathol and I, with two companions, were also shot down by one of Hin 
Abtol's ships," I told him. "While I was searching for food, they were captured, 
presumably by some of Hin Abtol's warriors, as we landed behind their lines. We 
must try to ascertain, if possible, where Llana is; then we can plan 
intelligently. Possibly some of our recruits may have information; see what you 
can find out."
He saluted and left my cabin. It was good to know that I had such a man as Tan 
Hadron of Hastor as one of my lieutenants.
8
Shortly after Tan Hadron left my cabin, Fo-nar entered to report that all but 
one of the recruits had reported and that he had the men putting the flier in 
shipshape condition. He seemed a little bit worried about something, and I asked 
him what it was.
"It's about this warrior who hasn't reported," he replied. "The man who 
persuaded him to join up is worried, too. He said he hadn't known him long, but 
since he came aboard the Dusar he's met a couple of men who know the fellow 
well; and they say he's an ulsio."
"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now," I said. "If this man talks and 
arouses suspicion, we may have to take off in a hurry. Have you assigned each 
man to his station?"
"Tan Hadron is doing that now," he replied. "I think we have found a splendid 
officer in that man."
"I am sure of it," I agreed. "Be sure that four men are detailed to cut the 
cables instantly, if it becomes necessary for us to make a quick getaway."
When on the ground, the larger Martian fliers are moored to four deadmen, one on 
either side at the bow and one on either side at the stern. Unless a ship is to 
return to the same anchorage, these deadmen are dug up and taken aboard before 
she takes off. In the event of forced departure, such as I anticipated might be 
necessary in our case, the cables attached to the deadmen are often cut.
Fo-nar hadn't been gone from my cabin five minutes before he came hurrying in 
again. "I guess we're in for it, sir," he said; "Odwar Phor San is coming 
aboard! That missing recruit is with him; he must have reported all he knew to 
Phor San."
"When the odwar comes aboard, bring him down to my cabin; and then order the men 
to their stations; see that the four men you have detailed for that duty stand 
by the mooring cables with axes; ask Tan Hadron to start the engine and stand by 
to take off; post a man outside my cabin door to pass the word to take off when 
I give the signal; I'll clap my hands twice."
Fo-nar was gone only a couple of minutes before he returned. "He won't come 
below," he reported; "he's storming around up there like a mad thoat, demanding 
to have the man brought on deck who gave orders to recruit a crew for the 
Dusar."
"Is Tan Hadron at the controls ready to start the engine?" I asked.
"He is," replied Fo-nar.
"He will start them, then, as soon as I come on deck; at the same time post your 
men at the mooring cables; tell them what the signal will be."
I waited a couple of minutes after Fo-nar had left; then I went on deck. Phor 
San was stamping up and down, evidently in a terrible rage; he was also a little 
drunk.
I walked up to him and saluted. "Did you send for me, sir?" I asked.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
"Dwar commanding the Dusar, sir," I replied.
"Who said so?" he yelled. "Who assigned you to this ship? Who assigned you to 
any ship?"
"You did, sir."
"I?" he screamed. "I never saw you before. You are under arrest. Arrest him!" He 
turned to a warrior at his elbow – my missing recruit, as I suspected – and 
started to speak to him again.
"Wait a minute," I said; "look at this; here's a written order over your own 
signature assigning me to the command of the Dusar." I held the order up where 
he could read it in the bright light of Mars' two moons.
He looked surprised and a little crestfallen for just a moment; then he 
blustered, "It's a forgery! Anyway, it didn't give you authority to recruit 
warriors for the ship." He was weakening.
"What good is a fighting ship without warriors?" I demanded.
"You don't need warriors on a ship that won't fly, you idiot," he came back. 
"You thought you were pretty cute, getting me to sign that order; but I was a 
little cuter – I knew the Dusar wouldn't fly."
"Well, then, why all the fuss, sir?" I asked.
"Because you're plotting something; I don't know what, but I'm going to find out 
– getting men aboard this ship secretly at night! I rescind that order, and I 
place you under arrest."
I had hoped to get him off the ship peaceably, for I wanted to make sure of 
Llana's whereabouts before taking off. One man had told me that he had heard 
that she was on a ship bound for Pankor, but that was not definite. I also 
wished to know if Hin Abtol was with her.
"Very well, Phor San," I said; "now let me tell you something. I am in command 
of this ship, and I intend to stay in command. I'll give you and this rat here 
three seconds to get over the side, for the Dusar will take off in three 
seconds," and then I clapped my hands twice.
Phor San laughed a sneering laugh. "I told you it wouldn't fly," he said; "now 
come along! If you won't come quietly, you'll be taken;" he pointed overside. I 
looked, and saw a strong detachment of warriors marching toward the Dusar; at 
the same time, the Dusar rose from the ground.
Phor San stood in front of me, gloating. "What are you going to do now?" he 
demanded.
"Take you for a little ride, Phor San," I replied, and pointed overside.
He took one look, and then ran to the rail. His warriors were looking up at him 
in futile bewilderment. Phor San shouted to the padwar commanding them, "Order 
the Okar to pursue and take this ship!" The Okar was his flagship.
"Perhaps you'd like to come down to my cabin and have a little drink," I 
suggested, the liquor of the former commander being still there. "You go with 
him," I ordered the recruit who had betrayed us; "you will find liquor in one of 
the cabinets;" then I went to the bridge. On the way, I sent a warrior to summon 
Fo-nar. I told Tan Hadron to circle above the line of ships; and when Fo-nar 
reported, I gave him his orders, and he went below.
"We can't let them take to the air," I told Tan Hadron; "this is not a fast 
ship, and if several of them overhauled us we wouldn't have a chance."
Following my orders, Tan Hadron flew low toward the first ship on the line; it 
was the Okar, and she was about to take off. I signalled down to Fo-nar, and an 
instant later there was a terrific explosion aboard the Okar – our first bomb 
had made a clean hit! Slowly we moved down the line, dropping our bombs; but 
before we had reached the middle of it, ships at the lower end were taking off 
and projectiles were bursting around us from the ground batteries.
"It's time we got out of here," I said to Tan Hadron. He opened the throttle 
wide then, and the Dusar rose rapidly in a zig zag course.
Our own guns were answering the ground batteries, and evidently very 
effectively, for we were not hit once. I felt that we had come out of the affair 
so far very fortunately. We hadn't disabled as many ships as I had hoped that we 
I might, and there were already several in the air which would doubtless pursue 
us; I could see one ship on our tail already, but she was out of range and 
apparently not gaining on us rapidly, if at all.
I told Tan Hadron to set his course due North, and then I sent for Fo-nar and 
told him to muster all hands on deck; I wanted a chance to look over my crew and 
explain what our expedition involved. There was time for this now, while no 
ships were within range of us, which might not be true in a short time.
The men came piling up from below and from their stations on deck. They were, 
for the most part, a hardbitten lot, veterans, I should say, of many a campaign. 
As I looked them over I could see that they were sizing me up; they were 
probably wondering more about me than I was about them, for I was quite sure 
what they would do if they thought they could get the upper hand of me – I'd 
"fall" overboard, and they would take over the ship, then they'd quarrel among 
themselves as to what they would do with it and where they would fly it; in the 
end, half a dozen of the hardiest would survive, make for the nearest city, sell 
the Dusar, and have a wild orgy – if they didn't wreck her before.
I asked each man his name and his past experience; there were, among the 
twenty-three, eleven panthans and twelve assassins; and they had fought all over 
the world. Seven of the panthans were from Helium, or had served in the Helium 
navy. I knew that these men were accustomed to discipline. The assassins were 
from various cities, scattered all over Barsoom. I didn't need to ask them, to 
be quite sure that each had incurred the wrath of his Guild and been forced to 
flee in order to escape assassination himself; they were a tough lot.
"We are flying to Pankor," I told them, "in search of the daughter of the jed of 
Gathol, who has been abducted by Hin Abtol. There may be a great deal of 
fighting before we get her; if we succeed and live, we will fly to Helium; there 
I shall turn the ship over to you, and you can do what you please with it."
"You're not flying me to Pankor," said one of the assassins; "I've been there 
for twenty-five years, and I'm not going back."
This was insubordination verging on mutiny. In a well disciplined navy, it would 
have been a very simple thing to handle; but here, where there was no higher 
authority than I, I had to take a very different course from a commander with a 
powerful government behind him. I stepped up to the man and slapped him as I had 
slapped Kor-an; and, like Kor-an, he went down.
"You're flying wherever I fly you," I said; "I'll have no insubordination on 
this ship."
He leaped to his feet and whipped out his sword, and there was nothing for me to 
do but draw also.
"The penalty for this, you understand, is death," I said, "–unless you sheathe 
your sword immediately."
"I'll sheathe it in your belly, you calot!" he cried, making a terrific lunge at 
me, which I parried easily and then ran him through the right shoulder. I knew 
that I would have to kill him, for the discipline of the ship and perhaps the 
fate of Llana of Gathol might hinge on this question of my supremacy and my 
authority; but first I must give an exhibition of swordplay that would 
definitely assure the other members of the crew that the lethal thrust was no 
accident, as they might have thought had I killed him at once.
So I played with him as a cat plays with a mouse, until the other members of the 
crew, who had stood silent and scowling at first, commenced to ridicule him.
"I thought you were going to sheathe your sword in his belly," taunted one.
"Why don't you kill him, Gan-ho?" demanded another. "I thought you were such a 
great swordsman."
"I can tell you one thing," said a third: "you are not going to fly to Pankor, 
or anywhere else. Goodby, Gan-ho! you are dead."
Just to show the other men how easily I could do it, I disarmed Gan-ho, sending 
his blade rattling across the deck. He stood for a moment glaring at me like a 
mad beast; then he turned and ran across the deck and dove over the rail. I was 
glad that I did not have to kill him.
I turned to the men gathered before me. "Is there any other who will not fly to 
Pankor?" I asked, and waited for a reply.
Several of them grinned sheepishly; and there was much scuffing of sandals on 
the deck, but no one replied.
"I had you mustered here to tell where we were flying and why; also that Fo-nar 
is First Padwar, Tan Hadron is Second Padwar, and I am your Dwar – we are to be 
obeyed. Return to your stations."
9
Shortly after the men dispersed, Phor San and his satellite appeared on deck; 
they were both drunk. Phor San came toward me and stopped in front of me waving 
an erratic finger at me. He stunk of the liquor he had been drinking.
"In the name of Hin Abtol, Jeddak of Jeddaks of the North," he declaimed, "I 
order you to turn over the command of this ship to me, or suffer the full 
consequences of your crime of mutiny."
I saw the men on deck eyeing the two banefully. "You'd better go below," I said; 
"you might fall overboard."
Phor San turned to some of the crew members. "I am Odwar Phor San," he 
announced, "commander of the fleet; put this man in irons and return the ship to 
the air field!"
"I think you have gone far enough, Phor San," I said; "if you continue, I shall 
have to assume that you are attempting to incite my crew to mutiny, and act 
accordingly. Go below!"
"You trying to give me orders on one of my ships?" he demanded. "I'll have you 
understand that I am Phor San–"
"Commander of the fleet," I finished for him, "Here," I said to a couple of 
warriors standing near, "take these two below, and if they don't behave 
themselves, tie them up."
Fuming and blustering, Phor San was dragged below. His companion went quietly; I 
guess he knew what was good for him.
The one ship was still hanging onto our tail and not gaining perceptibly, but 
there were two just behind her which were overhauling both of us.
"That doesn't look so good," I said to Tan Hadron, who was standing at my side.
"Let's show them something," he said.
"What, for instance?" I asked.
"Do you remember that maneuver of yours the last time Helium was attacked by an 
enemy fleet, where you got the flag ship and two other ships that thought you 
were running from them?"
"All right," I said, "we'll try it." Then I sent for Fo-nar and gave him full 
instructions. While we were talking, I heard a series of piercing screams, 
gradually diminishing in the distance; but my mind was so occupied with this 
other matter, that I scarcely gave them a thought. Presently I got an "all's 
ready" report from Fo-nar, and told Tan Hadron to go ahead with the maneuver.
The Dusar was going full speed ahead against a strong head wind, and when he 
brought her about she sped toward the oncoming ships like a racing thoat. Two of 
them were in position to open up on us when we came within range; however, they 
commenced firing too soon. We quite properly held our fire until it was 
effective. We were all firing our bow guns – the only ones that could be brought 
to bear; and no one was doing much damage.
As we drew closer to the leading ship, I saw considerable confusion on her deck; 
I imagine they thought we were going to ram them. Just then our gunner succeeded 
in putting her bow gun out of commission, which was fortunate indeed for us; 
then Tan Hadron elevated the Dusar's nose, and we rose above the leading ship. 
As we passed over her, there was a terrific explosion on her deck and she burst 
into flame. Tan Hadron turned to port so fast that the Dusar lay over on her 
side, and we on deck had to hang to anything we could get hold of to keep from 
going overboard; by this maneuver, he crossed over the second ship; and the 
bombers in the bilge of the Dusar dropped a heavy bomb on her deck. With the 
detonation of the bomb, she turned completely over, and then plummeted toward 
the ground, four thousand feet below. The explosion must have burst all her 
buoyancy tanks.
Only one ship now remained in our immediate vicinity; and as we made for her, 
she turned tail and ran, followed by the cheers of our men. We now resumed our 
course toward the north, the enemy having abandoned the chase.
The first ship was still burning, and I directed Tan Hadron to approach her to 
learn if any of the crew remained alive. As we came closer, I saw that she was 
hanging bow down, the whole after part of the ship being in flames. The bow was 
not burning, and I saw a number of men clinging to holds upon the tilted deck.
My bow gunner thought that I was going to finish them off, and trained his piece 
on them; but I stopped him just in time; then I hailed them. "Can you get at 
your boarding harness?" I shouted.
"Yes," came back the answer.
"I'll pull in below you and take you off," I called, and in about fifteen 
minutes we had taken off the five survivors one of which was a Panar padwar.
They were surprised that I hadn't either finished them off when I had them at 
such a disadvantage, or let them hang there and burn. The padwar was sure that 
we had some ulterior motive in taking them off the burning ship, and asked me 
how I intended to have them killed.
"I don't intend to kill you at all," I said, "unless I have to."
My own men were quite as surprised as the prisoners; but I heard one of them 
say, "The Dwar's been in the Helium navy – they don't kill prisoners of war in 
Helium." Well, they don't kill them in all Martian countries, except that most 
do kill their prisoners if they find it difficult or impossible to take them 
home into slavery without endangering their own ships.
"What are you going to do with us?" asked the padwar.
"I'll either land as soon as it is convenient, and set you free; or I'll let you 
enlist and come with us. You must understand, however, that I am at war with Hin 
Abtol."
All five decided to cast their lot with us, and I turned them over to Fo-nar to 
assign them to watches and prescribe their duties. My men were gathered 
amidships discussing the engagement; they were as proud as peacocks.
"We destroyed two ships and put a third to flight without suffering a casualty," 
one was saying.
"That's the kind of a Dwar to fly under," said another. "I knew he was all right 
when I saw him handle Gan-ho. I tell you there's a man to fight for."
After overhearing this conversation and a lot more like it, I felt much more 
assured as to the possible success of the venture, for with a disloyal crew 
anything may happen except success.
A little later, as I was crossing the deck, I saw one of the warriors who had 
taken Phor San and his companion below; and I hailed him and asked him if the 
prisoners were all right.
"I am sorry to report, sir," he said, "that they both fell overboard."
"How could they fall overboard when they were below?" I demanded.
"They fell through the after bomb trap, sir," he said, without cracking a smile.
10
Naturally I was a little suspicious of the dependability of Gor-don, the Panar 
padwar we had taken off the disabled Panar ship. He was the only Panar aboard 
the Dusar, and the only person aboard who might conceivably owe any allegiance 
to Hin Abtol. I cautioned Fo-nar and Tan Hadron to keep an eye on the fellow, 
although I really couldn't imagine how he could harm us.
As we approached the North Polar region, it was necessary to issue the warm fur 
clothing which the Dusar carried in her stores – the white fur of Apts for the 
warriors, and the black and yellow striped fur of orluks for the three officers; 
and to issue additional sleeping furs to all.
I was quite restless that night with a perfectly baseless premonition of 
impending disaster, and about the 9th zode (1:12 A.M. E.T.) I arose and went on 
deck. Fo-nar was at the wheel, for as yet I didn't know any of the common 
warriors of the crew well enough to trust them with this important duty.
There was a group of men amidships, whispering among themselves. As they were 
not members of the watch, they had no business there at that time of night; and 
I was walking toward them to order them below, when I saw three men scuffling 
farther aft. This infraction of discipline requiring more immediate attention 
than the gathering on the deck, I walked quickly toward the three men, arriving 
just as two of them were about to hurl the third over the rail.
I seized the two by their collars and dragged them back; they dropped their 
victim and turned on me; but when they recognized me, they hesitated.
"The Panar was falling overboard," said one of the men, rather impudently.
Sure enough, the third man was Gor-don, the Panar. He had had a mighty close 
call. "Go below, to my cabin," I told him; "I will talk with you there later."
"He won't talk too much, if he knows what's good for him," one of the men who 
had tried to throw him overboard shouted after him as he walked away.
"What is the meaning of this?" I demanded of the two men, whom I recognized as 
assassins.
"It means that we don't want any Panars aboard this ship," replied one.
"Go to your quarters," I ordered; "I'll attend to you later." It was my 
intention to immediately have them put in irons.
They hesitated; one of them moved closer to me. There is only one way to handle 
a situation like that – be first. I swung a right to the fellow's chin, and as 
he went down I whipped out my sword and faced them.
"I'll run you both through if you lay a hand on a weapon," I told them, and they 
knew that I meant it. I made them stand against the rail then, with their backs 
toward me, and disarmed them. "Now go below," I said.
As they walked away, I saw the men in the group amid. ships watching us, and as 
I approached them they moved away and went below before I could order them to do 
so. I went forward and told Fo-nar of what had happened, cautioning him to be 
constantly on the lookout for trouble.
"I am going below to talk to Panar," I said; "I have an idea that there was more 
to this than just the wish to throw him overboard; then I'll have a talk with 
some of the men. I'm going to rouse Tan Hadron first and instruct him to have 
those two assassins put in irons at once. I'll be back on deck shortly; the 
three of us will have to keep a close watch from now on. Those men weren't on 
deck at this hour in the night just to get fresh air."
I went below then and awakened Tan Hadron, telling him what had occurred on deck 
and ordering him to take a detail of men and put the two assassins in irons; 
after that, I went to my cabin. Gor-don arose from a bench and saluted as I 
entered.
"May I thank you, sir," he said, "for saving my life."
"Was it because you are a Panar that they were going to throw you overboard?" I 
asked.
"No, sir, it was not," he replied. "The men are planning to take over the ship – 
they are afraid to go to Pankor – and they tried to get me to join with them, as 
none of them can navigate a ship and I can; they intended killing you and the 
two padwars. I refused to join them, and tried to dissaude them; then they 
became afraid that I would report their plans to you, as I intended doing; so 
they were going to throw me overboard. You saved my life, sir, when you took me 
off that burning ship; and I am glad to offer it in the defense of yours – and 
you're going to need all the defense you can get; the men are determined to take 
ever the ship, though they are divided on the question of killing you."
"They seemed very contented to serve under me immediately after our engagement 
with your three ships," I said; "I wonder what could have changed them."
"Fear of Hin Abtol as the ship drew nearer to Pankor," replied Gor-don; "they 
are terrified at the thought that they might be frozen in there again for 
years."
"Pankor must be a terrible place," I said.
"For them, it would be," he replied.
I saw to it that he was armed, and then I told him to follow me on deck. There 
would be at least four of us, and I hoped that some of the crew might be loyal. 
Tan Hadron of Hastor and I could give a good account of ourselves; as to Fo-nar 
and Gor-don, I did not know.
"Come," I said to the Panar, and then I opened my cabin door and stepped into 
the arms of a dozen men, waiting there, who fell upon me and bore me to the deck 
before I could strike a blow in defense; they disarmed both the Panar and me and 
bound our hands behind our backs. It was all done very expeditiously and 
quietly; the plan had been admirably worked out, and it won my approbation – 
anyone who can take John Carter as easily as that deserves praise.
They took us on deck, and I could not but notice that many of them still treated 
me with deference. Those who immediately surrounded me were all panthans. On 
deck, I saw that both Fo-nar and Tan Hadron were prisoners.
The men surrounded us, and discussed our fate. "Overboard with the four of 
them!" cried an assassin,
"Don't be a fool," said one of the panthans; "we can't navigate the ship without 
at least one of them."
"Keep one of them, then; and throw the others over the rail – over with the dwar 
first!"
"No!" said another panthan; "he is a great fighting man, a good commander who 
led us to victory; I will fight before I will see him killed."
"And I!" shouted several others in unison.
"What do you want to do with them, then?" demanded still another assassin. "Do 
you want to take them along so that we'll all have our heads lopped off at the 
first city we stop at where they can report us to the authorities?"
"Keep two to pilot the ship," said a man who had not spoken before; "and ground 
the other two, if you don't want to kill them."
Several of the assassins were still for killing us; but the others prevailed, 
and they had Tan Hadron bring the Dusar to ground. Here, as they put us off the 
ship, Gor-don and I, they gave us back our weapons over the protest of several 
of the assassins.
As I stood there on the snow and ice of the Arctic and saw the Dusar rise in the 
air and head toward the south, I thought that it might have been kinder had they 
killed us.
11
North of us rose a range of rocky hills, their wind swept granite summits, 
flecked with patches of snow and ice, showed above their snow covered slopes 
like the backbone of some dead monster. To the south stretched rough, snow 
covered terrain as far as the eye could reach – to the north, a frozen 
wilderness and death; to the south, a frozen wilderness and death. There seemed 
no alternative.
But it was the south that called me. I could struggle on until death claimed me, 
but I would never give up while life remained.
"I suppose we might as well be moving," I said to Gordon, as I started toward 
the south.
"Where are you going?" he asked; "only death lies in that direction for a man on 
foot."
"I know that," I replied; "death lies in any direction we may go."
The Panar smiled. "Pankor lies just beyond those hills," he said. "I have hunted 
here many times on this side of them; we can be in Pankor in a couple of hours."
I shrugged. "It doesn't make much difference to me," I said, "as I shall 
probably be killed in Pankor;" and I started off again, but this time toward the 
north.
"You can come into Pankor safely," said Gor-don, "but you will have to come as 
my slave. It is not as I would have it, sir; but it is the only way in which you 
will be safe."
"I understand," I said, "and I thank you."
"We shall have to say that I took you prisoner; that the crew of my ship 
mutinied and grounded us," he explained.
"It is a good story, and at least founded on fact," I said. "But, tell me: will 
I ever be able to escape from Pankor?"
"If I get another ship, you will," he promised. "I am allowed a slave on board, 
and I'll take you along; the rest we shall have to leave to fate; though I can 
assure you that it is no easy thing to escape from Hin Abtol's navy."
"You are being very generous," I said.
"I owe you my life, sir."
Life is strange. How could I have guessed a few hours before that my life would 
be in the hands of one of Hin Abtol's officers, and safe? If ever a man was 
quickly rewarded for a good deed, it was I now for the rescuing of those poor 
devils from the burning ship.
Gor-don led the way with confidence over that trackless waste to a narrow gorge 
that split the hills. One unfamiliar with its location could have passed along 
the foot of the hills within a hundred yards of its mouth without ever seeing 
it, for its ice- and snow-covered walls blended with the surrounding snow to 
hide it most effectively.
It was rough going in that gorge. Snow covered broken ice and rocks, so that we 
were constantly stumbling and often falling. Transverse fissures crossing the 
gorge formed a labyrinth of corridors in which a man might be quickly lost. 
Gor-don told me this was the only pass through the hills, and that if an enemy 
ever got into it he would freeze to death before he found his way out again.
We had plodded on for about half an hour, when, at a turn, our way was blocked 
by one of the most terrible creatures that inhabit Mars. It was an apt, a huge, 
white furred creature with six limbs, four of which short and heavy, carry it 
swiftly over the snow and ice; while the other two, growing forward from its 
shoulders on either side of its long, powerful neck, terminate in white, 
hairless hands, with which it seizes and holds its prey.
Its head and mouth are more nearly similar in appearance to those of a 
hippopotamus than to any other earthly animal, except that from the sides of the 
upper jawbone two mighty horns curve slightly downward toward the front.
Its two huge eyes inspire one's greatest curiosity. They extend in two vast oval 
patches from the center of the top of the cranium down either side of the head 
to below the roots of the horns, so that these weapons really protrude from the 
lower part of the eyes, which are composed of several thousand ocelli each.
This eye structure has always seemed remarkable to me in a beast whose haunts 
were on a glaring field of ice and snow, and though I found upon minute 
examination of the eyes of several that Thuvan Dihn and I killed, that time that 
we passed through the carrion caves, that each ocellus is furnished with its own 
lid, and that the animal can, at will, close as many of the facets of its huge 
eyes as it wishes, yet I am sure that nature has thus equipped him because much 
of his life is spent in dark, subterranean recesses.
The moment that the creature saw us, it charged; and Gordon and I whipped out 
our radium pistols simultaneously, and commenced firing. We could hear the 
bullets exploding in its carcass and see great chunks of flesh and bone being 
torn away, but still it came on. One of my bullets found a thousand faceted eye 
and exploded there, tearing the eye away. For just a moment the creature 
hesitated and wavered; then it came on again. It was right on top of us now, and 
our bullets were tearing into its vitals. How it could continue to live, I 
cannot understand; but it did, and it reached out and seized Gor-don with its 
two horrible, white, hairless hands and dragged him toward its massive jaws.
I was on its blind side; and realizing that our bullets would not bring death in 
time to save Gor-don, I drew my longsword; and, grasping the hilt in both hands, 
swung it from low behind my right shoulder and brought the keen blade down onto 
the beast's long neck. Just as the jaws were about to close on Gor-don, the 
apt's head rolled upon the icy floor of the gorge; but its mighty fingers still 
clung to the Panar, and I had to hack them off with my short sword before the 
man was freed.
"That was a close call," I said.
"Once again you have saved my life," said Gor-don; "how can I ever repay you?"
"By helping me find Llana of Gathol, if she is in Pankor," I told him.
"If she is in Pankor, I'll not only help you find her; but I'll help you get her 
away, if it is humanly possible to do so," he replied. "I am an officer in Hin 
Abtol's navy," he continued, "but I feel no loyalty toward him. He is a tyrant, 
hated by all; how he has been able to rule us for more than a hundred years, 
without being found by the assassin's dagger or poison, is a miracle."
As we talked, we continued on through the gorge; and presently came out upon a 
snow covered plain upon which rose one of those amazing, glass covered, 
hot-house cities of Barsoom's North Polar region.
"Pankor," said Gor-don; presently he turned and looked at me and commenced to 
laugh.
"What is it?" I asked.
"Your metal," he said; "you are wearing the insigne of a dwar in Hin Abtol's 
service; it might appear strange that you, a dwar, are the prisoner and slave of 
a padwar."
"That might be difficult to explain," I said, as I removed the insigne and threw 
it aside.
At the city gate, it was our good fortune to find one of Gor-don's acquaintances 
in command of the guard. He heard Gor-don's story with interest and permitted us 
to enter, paying no attention whatever to me.
Pankor was much like Kadabra, the capital city of Okar, only much smaller. 
Though the country around it and up to its walls was clothed in snow and ice, 
none lay upon the great crystal dome which roofed the entire city; and beneath 
the dome a pleasant, springlike atmosphere prevailed. Its avenues were covered 
with the sod of the mosslike ocher vegetation which clothes the dead sea bottoms 
of the red planet, and bordered by well kept lawns of crimson Barsoomian grass. 
Along these avenues sped the noiseless traffic of light and airy ground fliers 
with which I had become familiar in Marentina and Kadabra long years before.
The broad tires of these unique fliers are but rubberlike gas bags filled with 
the eighth Barsoomian ray, or ray of propulsion – that remarkable discovery of 
the Martians that has made possible the great fleets of mighty airships that 
render the red man of the outer world supreme. It is this ray which propels the 
inherent and reflected light of suns and planets off into space, and when 
confined gives to Martian craft their airy buoyancy.
Hailing a public flier, Gor-don and I were driven to his home, I sitting with 
the driver, as befitted a slave. Here he was warmly greeted by his mother, 
father, and sister; and I was conducted to the slaves' quarters by a servant. It 
was not long, however, before Gor-don sent for me; and when the servant who had 
brought me had departed, Gor-don explained to me that he had told his parents 
and his sister that I had saved his life, and that they wished to express their 
gratitude. They were most appreciative.
"You shall be my son's personal guard," said the father, "and we shall not look 
upon you here in this home as a slave. He tells me that in your own country you 
are a noble." Gor-don had either guessed at that, or made up the story for 
effect; as I certainly had told him nothing of my status at home. I wondered how 
much more he had told them; I did not wish too many people to know of my search 
for Llana. When next we were alone, I asked him; and he assured me that he had 
told them nothing.
"I trust them perfectly," he said, "but the affair is not mine to speak of." At 
least there was one decent Panar; I presume that I had come to judge them all by 
Hin Abtol.
Gor-don furnished me with harness and insignia which definitely marked me as a 
slave of his household and rendered it safe for me to go about the city, which I 
was anxious to do on the chance that I might pick up some word regarding Llana; 
for Gor-don had told me that in the market place, where slaves gathered to buy 
and sell for their owners, all the gossip of the city was discussed daily.
"If it has happened or is going to happen, the market place knows it, is an old 
saying here," he told me; and I found this to be true. 
As Gor-don's bodyguard, I was permitted to wear weapons, the insignia on my 
harness so denoting. I was glad of this, as I feel lost without arms – much as 
an Earth man would feel walking down the street without his pants.
The day after we arrived, I went alone to the market place.
12
I got into conversations with a number of slaves, but I didn't learn anything of 
value to me; however, being there, put me in the way of learning something that 
was of value to me. I was talking with another slave, when we saw an officer 
coming through the market place, touching first one slave and then another, who 
immediately fell in behind him.
"If he touches you, don't ask any questions; but go along," said the slave with 
whom I was talking and whom I had told I was a newcomer to Pankor.
Well, the officer did tap me on the shoulder as he passed; and I fell in behind 
him with fifteen or twenty other slaves. He led us out of the market place and 
along an avenue of poorer shops, to the city wall. Here, beside a small gate, 
was a shed in which was a stock of apt-fur suits. After we had each donned one 
of these, in accordance with the officer's instructions, he unlocked the small 
gate and led us out of the city into the bitter cold of the Arctic, where such a 
sight met my eyes as I hope I may never see again. On row after row of racks 
which extended as far as I could see hung frozen human corpses, thousands upon 
thousands of them hanging by their feet, swinging in the biting wind.
Each corpse was encased in ice, a transparent shroud through which their dead 
eyes stared pleadingly, reproachfully, accusingly, horribly. Some faces wore 
frozen grins, mocking Fate with bared teeth.
The officer had us cut down twenty of the bodies, and the thought of the purpose 
for which they seemed obviously intended almost nauseated me. As I looked upon 
those endless lines of corpses hanging heads down, I was reminded of winter 
scenes before the butcher shops of northern cities in my native country, where 
the bodies of ox and bear and deer hung, frozen, for the gourmet to inspect.
It took the combined strength of two red men to lift and carry one of these ice 
encrusted bodies; and as the officer had tapped an odd number of slaves, I was 
left without a partner to carry a corpse with me; so I waited for orders.
The officer saw me standing idle, and called to me. "Hey, you!" he cried; "don't 
loaf around doing nothing; drag one of them over to the gate." 
I stooped and lifted one of the bodies to my shoulder, carrying it alone to the 
gate. I could see that the officer was astounded, for what I had done would have 
been an impossible feat of strength for a Martian. As a matter of fact, it was 
not at all remarkable that I was able to do it; because my unusually great 
strength, combined with the lesser gravity of Mars, made it relatively easy for 
me.
All the time I was carrying my grisly burden, I was thinking of the roast we had 
had at the meal I had eaten at Gordon's house – and wondering! Was it possible 
that civilized human beings could be so depraved? It seemed incredible of such 
people as Gordon and his family. His sister was a really beautiful girl. Could 
she–? I shuddered at the implication.
We carried the corpses into a large building across the avenue from the little 
gate. Here were row upon row and tier upon tier of ersite topped tables; and 
when, at the officer's direction, we laid the bodies upon some of them, the 
place looked like a morgue.
Presently a number of men entered the room; they carried heavy knives. These are 
the butchers, I thought. They attached hoses to hydrants, and each one of them 
stood over a corpse and sprayed it with warm water, at the same time chipping 
away the ice with his knife. It took some little time.
When the first corpse was entirely released from its icy winding sheet I wanted 
to look away, but I couldn't – I was fascinated by the horror of it as I waited 
to see the butcher wield his knife; but he didn't. Instead, he kept on spraying 
the body with warm water, occasionally massaging it. Finally, he took a 
hypodermic syringe from his pocket pouch and injected something into the arm of 
the cadaver; then the most horrifying thing of all occurred: the corpse rolled 
its head to and fro and opened its eyes!
"Stand by, slaves!" commanded the officer; "some of them may be a little wild at 
first – be ready to seize them."
The first corpse sat up and looked around, as others of them showed signs of 
life. Soon they were all either sitting up or standing staring about them in a 
confused sort of way. Now they were each given the harness of a slave; and when 
a detachment of warriors came to take charge of them, we other slaves were 
dismissed. Now I recalled and understood that oft repeated reference of the 
warriors of Hin Abtol to being "frozen in." I had thought that they merely meant 
being confined in an Arctic city surrounded by ice and snow.
As I was leaving the building, the officer accosted me. "Who are you, slave?" he 
demanded.
"I am the slave and bodyguard of Padwar Gor-don," I replied.
"You are a very strong man," he said; "what country are you from?"
"Virginia," I replied.
"I never heard of it; where is it?"
"Just south of Maryland."
"Well, never mind – let's see how strong you are; can you lift one end of that 
ersite table alone?"
"I don't know."
"Try it," he ordered.
I picked up the entire table and held it above my head. "Incredible!" exclaimed 
the officer. The warriors were standing looking at me in open mouthed 
astonishment.
"What is your name?" demanded the officer.
"Dotor Sojat."
"Very good," he said; "you may go now."
When I returned to Gor-don's home, he told me that he had become apprehensive 
because of my long absence. "Where have you been all this time?" he asked. "I 
was worried."
"Thawing out corpses," I told him, laughing. "Before I saw them start coming to 
life, I thought you Panars ate them. Tell me; what is the idea?"
"It is a part of Hin Abtol's mad scheme to conquer all of Barsoom and make 
himself Jeddak of Jeddaks and Warlord of Barsoom. He has heard of the famous 
John Carter, who holds these titles; and he is envious. He has been at the 
preserving of human beings by freezing for fully a hundred years. At first it 
was only a plan by which he might have great numbers of slaves available at any 
time without the expense of feeding them while they were idle. After he heard of 
John Carter and the enormous wealth of Helium and several other empires, this 
grandiose scheme of conquest commenced taking form.
"He had to have a fleet; and as no one in Pankor knew how to build airships, he 
had to acquire them by trickery and theft. A few crossed the ice barrier from 
some of the northern cities; these were lured to land by signals of friendship 
and welcome; then their crews were captured and all but one or two of them 
frozen in. Those who were not had promised to train Panars in the handling of 
the ships. It has been a very slow process of acquiring a navy; but he has 
supplemented it by visiting several of the northern cities, pretending 
friendship, and then stealing a ship or two, just as he pretended friendship for 
Gahan of Gathol and then stole his daughter.
"His present attack on Gathol is merely a practice campaign to give his officers 
and warriors experience and perhaps at the same time acquire a few more ships."
"How many of those frozen men has he?" I asked.
"He has accumulated fully a million in the last hundred years," replied Gor-don; 
"a very formidable army, if he had the ships to transport them."
On this dying planet, the population of which has been steadily decreasing for 
probably a million years, an army of a million warriors would indeed be 
formidable; but led by Hin Abtol and officered by Panars, two million disloyal 
warriors would be no great menace to such a power as Helium.
"I am afraid Hin Abtol's dream will never come true," I said.
"I hope not. Very few Panars are in sympathy with it. Life here is easy, and we 
are content to be left alone and leave others alone. By the way, did you learn 
anything about the whereabouts of Llana of Gathol while you were away?"
"Not a thing; did you?"
"No," he replied; "But I haven't made any direct inquiries yet. I am waiting 
until I can talk with some of my friends who are stationed in the palace. I do 
know, however, that Hin Abtol has returned from Gathol and is in his palace."
As we talked, a slave came to announce that an officer had come from the Jeddak 
and wished to speak to Gor-don.
"Bring him here," said my master; and a moment later a gorgeously trapped man 
entered the room, by which time I was standing behind Gor-don's chair, as a well 
trained slave and bodyguard should do.
The two men greeted each other by name and title; and then the visitor said, 
"You have a slave named Dotor Sojat?"
"Yes," replied Gor-don; "my personal bodyguard, here."
The officer looked at me. "You are the slave who lifted the ersite table alone 
today in the resuscitating house?" he inquired.
"Yes."
He turned again to Gor-don. "The Jeddak will honor you by accepting this slave 
as a gift," he said.
Gor-don bowed. "It is a great pleasure as well as an honor to present the slave, 
Dotor Sojat, to my jeddak," he said; and then, as the officer looked away from 
him to glance again at me, Gor-don winked at me. He knew how anxious I had been 
to get into the palace of Hin Abtol.
Like a dutiful slave, I left the home of Gor-don, the padwar, and followed the 
jeddak's officer to the palace of the jeddak.
13
A high wall encloses the grounds where stands the palace of Hin Abtol in the 
city of Pankor at the top of the world, and guards pace this wall night and day. 
At the gates are a full utan of a hundred men; and within, at the grand entrance 
to the palace itself, is another utan. No wonder that it has been difficult to 
assassinate Hin Abtol, self-styled Jeddak of Jeddaks of the North.
At one side of the palace, on an open scarlet sward, I saw something which made 
me start with astonishment – it was my own flier! It was the flier that Hin 
Abtol had stolen from me in the deserted city of Horz; and now, as I learned 
later, he had it on exhibition here as proof of his great courage and ability. 
He bragged that he had taken it single handed from The Warlord of Barsoom after 
defeating him in a duel. The fact that there could be no doubt but that it was 
my personal flier lent color to the story; my insigne was there for everyone to 
read, plain upon the bow. They must have towed it through one of the gates; and 
then flown it to its present resting place; as, of course, no airship could land 
inside Pankor's great dome.
I was left in the guardroom just inside the entrance to the palace, where some 
of the warriors of the guard were loafing; two of them were playing Jetan, the 
Martian chess game, while others played Yano. They had all risen when the 
officer entered the room with me; and when he left I sat down on a bench at one 
side, as the others seated themselves and resumed their games.
One of them looked over at me, and scowled. "Stand up, slave!" he ordered. 
"Don't you know better than to sit in the presence of Panar warriors?"
"If you can prove that you are a better man than I," I said, "I'll stand." I was 
in no mood to take anything like that meekly; as a matter of fact, I was pretty 
well fed up an being a slave.
The warrior leaped to his feet. "Oh, insolent, too!" he said; "well, I'll teach 
you a lesson."
"You'd better go slow there, Ul-to," warned one of his companions; "I think this 
fellow was sent for by the jeddak. If you muss him up, Hin Abtol may not like 
it."
"Well, he's got to be taught a lesson," snarled Ul-to; "if there's one thing I 
can't stand, its an impudent slave," and he came toward me. I did not rise, and 
he grabbed me by the harness and attempted to drag me to my feet; at the same 
time, he struck at me.
I parried his blow, and seized hold of his harness; then I stood up and lifted 
him above my head. I held him there for a moment, and then I tossed him across 
the room. "That will teach you," I called to him, "to be more respectful to your 
betters."
Some of the other guardsmen were scowling at me angrily; but many were laughing 
at Ul-to, who now scrambled to his feet, whipped out his long-sword, and came 
for me. They had not yet disarmed me; and I drew mine; but before we could 
engage, a couple of Ul-to's companions seized him and held him. He was cursing 
and struggling to free himself and get at me, when the officer of the guard, 
evidently attracted by the disturbance, entered the room.
When he heard what had happened, he turned angrily on me. "You ought to be 
flogged," he said, "for insulting and attacking a Panar warrior."
"Perhaps you would like to try to flog me," I said.
At that, he turned purple and almost jumped up and down, he was so furious. 
"Seize him!" he shouted to the warriors, "and give him a good beating."
They all started toward me, and I drew my sword. I was standing with my back to 
a wall, and there would have been several dead Panars scattered about that room 
in a few minutes if the officer who had brought me there had not come in just 
then.
"What's the meaning of this?" he demanded.
The guard officer explained, making me appear wholly in the wrong.
"He lies," I said to the officer; "I was attacked without provocation."
He turned to the guard officer. "I don't know who started this," he said, "but 
it's a good thing for your neck that nothing happened to this man;" then he 
disarmed me and told me to follow him.
He led me out of the palace again and to the side of the building where my flier 
stood. I noticed that it was not moored, there being no danger of winds beneath 
that great dome; and I wished that it were out in the open so that I could fly 
it away if I were able to find Llana of Gathol; it would have been a Heaven sent 
opportunity for escape had it not been for that enclosing dome.
He took me out to the center of an expanse of well kept lawn, facing a number of 
people who had gathered beside the building. There were both men and women, and 
more were coming from the palace. At last there was a fanfare of trumpets; and 
the Jeddak came, accompanied by courtiers and women.
In the meantime, a large man had come out on the lawn beside me; he was a 
warrior wearing metal that denoted him a member of Hin Abtol's bodyguard.
"The Jeddak has heard tales of your great strength," said the officer who had 
brought me there, "and he wishes to see a demonstration of it. Rab-zov, here, is 
supposed to be the strongest man in Pankor–"
"I am the strongest man in Pankor, sir," interrupted Rab-zov; "I am the 
strongest man on Barsoom."
"He must be pretty strong," I said. "What is he going to do to me?"
"You are going to wrestle to amuse the Jeddak and his court. Rab-zov will 
demonstrate how easily he can throw you to the ground and hold you there. Are 
you ready, Rab-zov?"
Rab-zov said he was ready, and the officer signed us to start. Rab-zov swaggered 
toward me, taking occasional quick glances at the audience to see if all were 
looking at him. They were; looking at him and admiring his great bulk.
"Come on, fellow!" said Rab-zov; "put up the best fight you can; I want to make 
it interesting for the Jeddak,"
"I shall hope to make it interesting for you, Rab-zov," I said.
He laughed loudly at that. "You won't feel so much like joking when I'm through 
with you," he said.
"Come on, wind bag!" I cried; "you talk too much."
He was leaning forward, reaching for a hold, when I seized one of his wrists, 
turned quickly and threw him over my shoulder. I purposely let him fall hard, 
and he was still a little groggy when he came to his feet. I was waiting, very 
close; and I seized him by the harness and lifted him over my head; then I 
commenced to whirl with him. He was absolutely helpless; and when I thought he 
was befuddled enough, I carried him over and threw him down heavily in front of 
Hin Abtol. Rab-zov was down – and out.
"Have you no strong men in Pankor?" I asked him, and then I saw Llana of Gathol 
standing beside the Jeddak. Almost with the suddenness of a revelation a mad 
scheme came to me.
"Perhaps I had better send two men against you," said Hin Abtol, rather 
good-naturedly; he had evidently enjoyed the spectacle.
"Why not a swordsman?" I asked. "I am quite good with a sword," and I wanted a 
sword very much right then – I needed a sword to carry out my plan.
"Do you want to be killed, slave?" demanded Hin Abtol; "I have the best 
swordsmen in the world in my guard."
"Bring out your best, then," I said; "I may surprise him – and somebody else," 
and I looked straight at Llana of Gathol, and winked. Then, for the first time, 
she recognized me through my disguise.
"Who were you winking at?" demanded Hin Abtol, looking around.
"Something got in my eye," I said.
Hin Abtol spoke to an officer standing near him. "Who is the best swordsman in 
the guard?" he asked.
"There is none better than Ul-to," replied the officer.
"Fetch him!"
So! I was to cross swords with my old friend, Ul-to. That would please him – for 
a few moments.
They brought Ul-to; and when he found that he was to fight me, he beamed all 
over. "Now, slave," he said, "I will teach you that lesson that I promised you."
"Again?" I asked.
"It will be different this time," he said.
We crossed swords.
"To the death!" I said.
"To the death, slave!" replied Ul-to.
I fought on the defensive mostly at first, seeking to work my man around in the 
position in which I wanted him; and when I had him there, I pressed him; and he 
fell back. I kept backing him toward the audience, and to make him more amenable 
to my directions, I started carving him – just a little. I wanted him to acquire 
respect for my point and my ability. Soon he was covered with blood, and I was 
forcing him to go wherever I wished him.
I backed him into the crowd, which fell back; and then I caught Llana's eye, and 
motioned her with my head to step to one side; then I pressed close to her. "At 
the kill," I whispered, "run for the flier and start the engine."
I backed Ul-to away from the crowd then, and I saw Llana following, as though 
she was so much interested in the duel that she did not realize what she was 
doing.
"Now! Llana!" I whispered, and I saw her walking slowly backward toward the 
flier.
In order to attract the crowd's attention from Llana, I pressed Ul-to to one 
side with such an exhibition of swordplay as I knew would hold every eye; then I 
turned him around and had him almost running backward, carrying me nearer my 
ship.
Suddenly I heard Hin Abtol cry, "The girl! Get her! She's gone aboard that 
flier!"
As they started forward, I ran Ul-to through the heart and turned and ran for my 
ship. At my heels came a dozen warriors with drawn swords. The one who started 
first, and who was faster than the others, overtook me just as I had to pause a 
moment at the side of the flier to make assurance doubly sure that she was not 
moored in any way. I wheeled and parried a vicious cut; my blade moved once more 
with the swiftness of light, and the warrior's head rolled from his shoulders.
"Let her go!" I cried to Llana, as I leaped to the deck.
As the ship rose, I hastened to the controls, and took over.
"Where are we going, John Carter?" asked Llana,
"To Gathol," I replied.
She looked up at the dome above us. "How–?" she started, but she saw that I had 
turned the nose of the flier upward at an angle of forty-five degrees and opened 
the throttle – that was her answer.
The little ship, as sweet and fast a flier as I have ever flown, was streaking 
through the warm air of Pankor at tremendous speed. We both huddled close to the 
deck of the little cockpit – and hoped.
The flier shuddered to the terrific impact; broken glass showered in every 
direction – and then we were out in the cold, clear air of the Arctic.
I levelled off then, and headed for Gathol at full speed; there was danger of 
our freezing to death if we didn't get into a warmer climate soon, for we had no 
furs.
"What became of Pan Dan Chee and Jad-han?" I asked.
"I haven't seen them since we were all captured in Gathol," replied Llana. "Poor 
Pan Dan Chee; he fought for me, and he was badly wounded; I am afraid that I 
shall never see him again," and there were tears in her voice.
I greatly deplored the probable fate of Pan Dan Chee and Jad-han, but at least 
Llana of Gathol was at last safe. Or was this a masterpiece of overstatement? 
She was at least safe from Hin Abtol, but what lay in the future? Immediately 
she was in danger of freezing to death should any mishap delay our flight before 
we reached a warmer latitude, and there were innumerable other hazards in the 
crossing of the wastelands of this dying planet.
But, being an incorrigible optimist, I still felt that Llana was safe; and so 
did she. Perhaps because no conceivable danger could have been greater than that 
which had threatened her while she lay in the power of Hin Abtol.
Presently I noticed that she was laughing, and I asked her what amused her. 
"More than any other man on Barsoom, Hin Abtol feared you," she said, "and he 
had you in his power and did not know it. And he pitted against you, the 
greatest swordsman of two worlds, a clumsy oaf, when he might have loosed upon 
you a full utan and destroyed you. Though he would doubtless have lost half his 
utan. I only pray that some day he may know the opportunity he missed when he 
permitted John Carter, Warlord of Barsoom to escape him."
"Yes," I said, "it is amusing. So is that hole we left in the roof of his 
hothouse city; but I am afraid that Hin Abtol's sense of humor will not be equal 
to the task of appreciating it."
We sped swiftly toward the south and warmer climes, happy in our miraculous 
escape from the tyrant of Panar; and, fortunately, unaware of what lay in our 
future.
Llana of Gathol was safe – but for how long? When would we see Gathol again, or 
Helium?
BOOK 4
INVISIBLE MEN OF MARS
1
YES, LLANA of Gathol was safe at last. I had brought her from captivity in the 
Arctic city of Pankor, stolen her from under the very nose of Hin Abtol, the 
self-styled Jeddak of Jeddaks of the North; and we were speeding through the 
thin air of dying Mars in my own fast flier toward Gathol. I was very contented 
with what I had achieved, but I was also very cold.
"You said that you were taking me to Gathol," said Llana, after we had left 
Pankor far behind. "Nothing would make me happier than to return to my father, 
my mother, and my native city; but how may we hope to make a landing there while 
Gathol is surrounded by the warriors of Hin Abtol?"
"The Panars are a stupid, inefficient lot," I replied; "most of Hin Abtol's 
warriors are unwilling conscripts who have no heart in waging war for their 
tyrannical master. These poor frozen men only endure it because they know there 
is no escape and prefer life and consciousness to being returned to Pankor and 
frozen in again until Hin Abtol needs their swords for a future war."
"'Frozen men'!" ejaculated Llana; "what do you mean by that?"
"You heard nothing of them while you were a prisoner in Pankor?" I asked, 
surprised.
"Nothing," Llana assured me; "tell me about them."
"Just outside the walls of the hot-house city there are rows upon rows of racks 
in the biting cold and bitter wind of the North Polar region. On these racks, 
like beef in a cold storage warehouse, thousands of warriors hang by their feet, 
frozen solid and in a state of suspended animation. They are captives whom he 
had taken on numerous raids during a period of fully a hundred years. I have 
talked with some who had been frozen in over fifty years.
"I was in the resuscitating room when a number of them were thawed out; after a 
few minutes they don't seem to be any worse for their experience, but the whole 
idea is revolting."
"Why does he do it?" demanded Llana. "Why thousands of them?"
"Better say thousands upon thousands," I said; "one slave told me that there 
were at least a million. Hin Abtol dreams of conquering all of Barsoom with 
them."
"How grotesque!" exclaimed Llana.
"Were it not for the navy of Helium, he might go far along the road toward the 
goal of his grandiose ambition; and you may thank your revered ancestors, Llana, 
that there is a navy of Helium. After I return you to Gathol, I shall fly to 
Helium and organize an expedition to write finis to Hin Abtol's dreams."
"I wish that before you do that we might try to find out what has become of Pan 
Dan Chee and Jad-han," said Llana; "the Panars separated us shortly after we 
were captured."
"They may have been taken to Pankor and frozen in", I suggested.
"Oh, no!" exclaimed Llana; "that would be too terrible."
"You are very fond of Pan Dan Chee, aren't you?" I asked.
"He has been a very good friend," she replied, a little stiffly. The stubborn 
minx wouldn't admit that she was in love with him – and possibly she wasn't; you 
never can tell anything about a woman. She had treated him abominably when they 
were together; but when they were separated and he was in danger, she had 
evinced the greatest, concern for his safety.
"I don't know how we can learn anything about his fate," I said, "unless we can 
inquire directly of the Panars; and that might prove rather dangerous. I should 
like to know what has become of them and Tan Hadron of Hastor as well."
"Tan Hadron of Hastor? Where is he?"
"The last I saw of him, he was on board the Dusar, the Panar ship I stole from 
their line outside Gathol; and he was the prisoner of the mutinous crew that 
took it from me. There were a lot of assassins among them, and these were 
determined to kill Tan Hadron as soon as he had taken the ship to whatever 
destination they had decided upon; you see, none of the crew knew anything about 
navigation."
"Tan Hadron of Hastor," said Llana again; "his mother was a royal princess of 
Gathol and Tan Hadron himself one of the greatest fighting men of Barsoom."
"A splendid officer," I added.
"Steps must be taken to save him, too."
"If it is not too late," I said; "and the only chance of saving any of them lies 
in my reaching Helium in time to bring a fleet to Gathol before Hin Abtol 
succeeds in reducing it, and then on to Pankor, if we do not find these three 
among Hin Abtol's prisoners at Gathol."
"Perhaps we had better fly direct to Helium," suggested Llana. "A fleet from 
Helium could accomplish something, while we two, alone, might accomplish no more 
than getting ourselves captured again by the Panars – and it would go hard with 
you, John Carter, if Hin Abtol ever got his hands on you again, after what you 
did in Pankor today." She laughed. "I shall never forget what you did to 
Rab-zov, 'the strongest man in Pankor.'"
"Neither will Rab-zov," I said.
"Nor Hin Abtol. And the hole you made in the glass dome covering the city, when 
you drove the flier right through it! I'll wager they all had chills before they 
got that patched up. No, Hin Abtol will never forget you."
"But he never knew who I really was," I reminded Llana; "with my disguise 
removed, I was no longer a red man; and he might never guess that he had once 
had John Carter in his power."
"The results would be the same as far as you are concerned," said Llana; "I 
think it would be death in either event."
Before we had come far from Pankor I decided that our wisest course would be to 
proceed directly to Helium and enlist the aid of Tardos Mors, the jeddak. While 
I hold the titles of Jeddak of Jeddaks and Warlord of Barsoom, conferred upon me 
by the jeddaks of five nations, I have always considered them largely honorary, 
and have never presumed to exercise the authority implicit in them, except in 
times of war when even the great Jeddak of Helium has graciously served under 
me.
Having reached the decision to fly to Helium rather than Gathol, I turned toward 
the southeast. Before us lay a journey half the distance around the planet, and 
we were absolutely without water or provisions. Soon the towers and stately 
ruins of Horz were visible, reminding us both of the circumstances under which 
we had met Pan Dan Chee, and I thought that Llana looked down a little sadly on 
that long dead city from which her lost lover had been self-exiled because of 
us. It was here that she had escaped from Hin Abtol, and it was here that Hin 
Abtol had stolen this very flier of mine that I had found and recovered in his 
Polar capital. Yes, Horz held many memories for both of us; and I was glad when 
it lay behind us, this dead monument to a dead past.
Far ahead lay Dusar where water and provisions might be obtained, but the 
friendliness of Dusar was open to question. It had not been so many years since 
Carthoris, the Prince of Helium, had almost been done to death there by Astok, 
son of Nutus, the jeddak of Dusar; and there had been no intercourse between 
Helium and Dusar since that time. Beyond Dusar was no friendly city all the way 
to Helium.
I decided to give Dusar a wide berth, and in doing so we flew over country. with 
which I was entirely unfamiliar. It was a hilly country; and in the long, deep 
valley I saw one of those rarest of all sights on Mars, a splendid forest. Now, 
to me a forest means fruits and nuts and, perhaps, game animals; and we were 
hungry. There would doubtless be mantilia plants too, the sap of which would 
quench our thirst; and so I decided to land. My best judgment told me that it 
was a risky thing to do, and subsequent events proved that my judgment was 
wholly correct.
2
I landed on level ground close to the forest, and telling Llana to remain aboard 
the flier ready to take off at a moment's notice, I went in search of food. The 
forest consisted principally of skeel, sorapus, and sompus trees. The first two 
are hardwood trees bearing large, delicious nuts, while the sompus trees were 
loaded with a citrus-like fruit with a thin red rind. The pulp of this fruit, 
called somp, is not unlike grapefruit, though much sweeter. It is considered a 
great delicacy among Barsoomians, and is cultivated along many of the canals. I 
had never seen any, however, as large as these, growing wild; nor had I ever 
seen trees on Mars of the size of many of those growing in this hidden forest.
I had gathered as much of the fruit and as many nuts as I could carry, when I 
heard Llana calling me. There was a note of excitement and urgency in her voice, 
and I dropped all that I had gathered and ran in the direction of the flier. 
Just before I came out of the forest I heard her scream; and as I emerged, the 
flier rose from the ground. I ran toward it as fast as I can run, and that is 
extremely fast under the conditions of lesser gravity which prevail on Mars. I 
took forty or fifty feet in a leap, and then I sprang fully thirty feet into the 
air in an effort to seize the rail of the flier. One hand touched the gunwale; 
but my fingers didn't quite close over the rail, and I slipped back and fell to 
the ground. However, I had had a glimpse of the deck of the flier, and what I 
saw there filled me with astonishment and, for some reason, imparted that 
strange sensation to my scalp as though each separate hair were standing erect – 
Llana lay on the deck absolutely alone, and there was no one at the controls!
"A noble endeavor," said a voice behind me; "you can certainly jump."
I wheeled about, my hand flying to the hilt of my sword. There was no one there! 
I looked toward the forest; there was no sign of living thing about me. From 
behind me came a laugh – a taunting, provocative laugh. Again I wheeled. As far 
as I could see there was only the peaceful Martian landscape. Above me, the 
flier circled and disappeared beyond the forest – flown with no human hand at 
the controls by some sinister force which I could not fathom.
"Well," said a voice, again behind me, "we might as well be on our way. You 
realize, I presume, that you are our prisoner."
"I realize nothing of the sort," I retorted. "If you want to take me, come and 
get me – come out in the open like men; if you are men."
"Resistance will be futile," said the voice; "there are twenty of us and only 
one of you."
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"Oh, pardon me," said the voice, "I should have introduced myself. I am Pnoxus, 
son of Ptantus, jeddak of Invak; and whom have I had the honor of capturing?"
"You haven't had the honor of capturing me yet," I said. I didn't like that 
voice – it was too oily and polite.
"You are most unco-operative," said the voice named Pnoxus. "I should hate to 
have to adopt unpleasant methods with you." The voice was not so sweet now; 
there was just a faint ring of steel in it.
"I don't know where you're hiding," I said; "but if you'll come out, all twenty 
of you, I'll give you a taste of steel. I have had enough of this foolishness."
"And I've had enough," snapped the voice. Somehow it sounded like a bear trap to 
me – all the oily sweetness had gone out of it. "Take him, men!"
I looked quickly around for the men, but I was still alone – just I and a voice 
were there. At least that is what I thought until hands seized my ankles and 
jerked my feet from beneath me. I fell flat on my face, and what felt like half 
a dozen heavy men leaped on my back and half a dozen hands ripped my sword from 
my grasp and more hands relieved me of my other weapons. Then unseen hands tied 
my own behind my back and others fastened a rope around my neck, and the voice 
said, "Get up!"
I got up. "If you come without resistance," said the voice named Pnoxus, "it 
will be much easier for you and for my men. Some of them are quite short 
tempered, and if you make it difficult for them you may not get to Invak alive."
"I will come," I said, "but where? For the rest, I can wait."
"You will be led," said Pnoxus, "and see that you follow where you're led. 
You've already given me enough trouble."
"You won't know what trouble is until I can see you," I retorted.
"Don't threaten; you have already stored up enough trouble for yourself."
"What became of the girl who was with me?" I demanded.
"I took a fancy to her," said Pnoxus, "and had one of my men, who can fly a 
ship, take her on to Invak."
I cannot tell you what an eerie experience it was being led through that forest 
by men that I could not see and being talked to by a voice that had no body; but 
when I realized that I was probably being taken to the place that Llana of 
Gathol had been taken, I was content, nay, anxious, to follow docilely where I 
was led.
I could see the rope leading from my neck out in front of me; it fell away in a 
gentle curve as a rule and then gradually vanished, vignette-like; sometimes it 
straightened out suddenly, and then I would feel a jerk at the back of my neck; 
but by following that ghostly rope-end as it wound among the trees of the forest 
and watching the bight carefully, so as to anticipate a forthcoming jerk by the 
straightening of the curve, I learned to avoid trouble.
In front of me and behind I continually heard voices berating other voices: 
"Sense where you're going, you blundering idiot," or, "Stop stepping on my 
heels, you fool," or "Who do you think you're bumping into, son-of-a-calot!" The 
voices seemed to be constantly getting in one another's way. Serious as I felt 
my situation might be, I could not help but be amused.
Presently I felt an arm brush against mine, or at least it felt like an arm, the 
warm flesh of a bare arm; it would touch me for an instant only to be taken away 
immediately, and then it would touch me again in a measured cadence, as might 
the arms of two men walking out of step side by side; and then a voice spoke 
close beside me, and I knew that a voice was walking with me.
"We are coming to a bad place," said the voice; "you had better take my arm."
I groped out with my right hand and found an arm that I could not see. I grasped 
what felt like an upper arm, and as I did so my right hand disappeared! Now, my 
right arm ended at the wrist, or at least it appeared to do so; but I could feel 
my fingers clutching that arm that I could not see. It was a most eerie 
sensation. I do not like situations that I cannot understand.
Almost immediately we came to an open place in the forest, where no trees grew. 
The ground was covered with tiny hummocks, and when I stepped on it it sank down 
a few inches. It was like walking on coil springs covered with turf.
"I'll guide you," said the voice at my side. "If you should get off the trail 
here alone you'd be swallowed up. The worst that can happen to you now would be 
to get one leg in it, for I can pull you out before it gets a good hold on you."
"Thank you," I said; "it is very decent of you."
"Think nothing of it," replied the voice. "I feel sorry for you; I am always 
sorry for strangers whom Fate misguides into the forest of Invak. We have 
another name for it which, I think, better describes it – The Forest of Lost 
Men."
"It is really so bad to fall into the hands of your people?" I asked.
"I am afraid that it is," replied the voice; "there is no escape."
I had heard that one before; so it didn't impress me greatly. The lesser peoples 
of Barsoom are great braggarts; they always have the best swordsmen, the finest 
cities, the most outstanding culture; and once you fall into their hands, you 
are always doomed to death or a life of slavery – you can never escape them.
"May I ask you a question?" I inquired.
"Certainly," said the voice.
"Are you always only a voice?"
A hand, I suppose it was his right hand, seized my arm and squeezed it with 
powerful, though invisible, fingers; and whatever it was that walked beside me 
chuckled. "Does that feel like only a voice?" it asked.
"A stentorian voice," I said. "You seem to have the physical attributes of a 
flesh and blood man; have you a name?"
"Most assuredly; it is Kandus; and yours?" he asked politely.
"Dotar Sojat," I told him, falling back upon my well-worn pseudonym.
We had now successfully crossed the bog, or whatever it was; and I removed my 
hand from Kandus's arm. Immediately I was wholly visible again, but Kandus 
remained only a voice. Again I walked alone, I and a rope sticking out in front 
of me and apparently defying the law of gravity. Even the fact that I surmised 
that the other end of it was fastened to a voice did not serve to make it seem 
right; it was a most indecent way for a rope to behave.
"'Dotar Sojat,'" repeated Kandus; "it sounds more like a green man's name."
"You are familiar with the green men?" I asked.
"Oh, yes; there is a horde which occasionally frequents the dead sea bottoms 
beyond the forest; but they have learned to give us a wide berth. 
Notwithstanding their great size and strength, we have a distinct advantage over 
them. As a matter of fact, I believe that they are very much afraid of us."
"I can well imagine so; it is not easy to fight voices; there is nothing one may 
get one's sword into."
Kandus laughed. "I suppose you would like to get your sword into me," he said.
"Absolutely not," I said; "you have been very decent to me, but I don't like 
that voice which calls itself Pnoxus. I wouldn't mind crossing swords with it."
"Not so loud," cautioned Kandus. "You must remember that he is the jeddak's son. 
We all have to be very nice to Pnoxus – no matter what we may privately think of 
him."
I judged from that that Pnoxus was not popular. It is really amazing how quickly 
one may judge a person by his voice; this had never been so forcibly impressed 
upon me before. Now, I had disliked the Pnoxus voice from the first, even when 
it was soft and oily, perhaps because of that; but I had liked the voice named 
Kandus – it was the voice of a man's man, open and without guile; a good voice.
"Where are you from, Dotar Sojat?" asked, Kandus.
"From Virginia," I said.
"That is a city of which I have never heard. In what country is it?"
"It is in the United States of America," I replied, "but you never heard of that 
either."
"No," he admitted; "that must be a far country."
"It is a far country," I assured him, "some forty-three million miles from 
here."
"You can talk as tall as you jump," he said. "I don't mind your joking with me," 
he added, "but I wouldn't get funny with Pnoxus, nor with Ptantus, the jeddak, 
if I were you; neither one of them has a sense of humor."
"But I was not joking," I insisted. "You have seen Jasoom in the heavens at 
night?"
"Of course," he replied.
"Well, that is the world I come from; it is called Earth there, and Barsoom is 
known as Mars."
"You look and talk like an honorable man," said Kandus; "and, while I don't 
understand, I am inclined to believe; however, you'd better pick out some place 
on Barsoom as your home when anyone else in Invak questions you; and you may 
soon be questioned – here we are at the gates of the city now."
3
Invak! The city in the Forest of Lost Men. At first only a gate was visible, so 
thickly set were the trees that hid the city wall – the trees and the vines that 
covered the wall.
I heard a voice challenge as we approached the gate, and I heard Pnoxus' voice 
reply, "It is Pnoxus, the prince, with twenty warriors and a prisoner."
"Let one advance and give the countersign," said the voice.
I was astonished that the guard at the gate couldn't recognize the jeddak's son, 
nor any of the twenty warriors with him. I suppose that one of the voices 
advanced and whispered the countersign, for presently a voice said, "Enter, 
Pnoxus, with your twenty warriors and your prisoner."
Immediately the gates swung open, and beyond I saw a lighted corridor and people 
moving about within it; then my rope tightened and I moved forward toward the 
gate; and ahead of me, one by one, armed men suddenly appeared just beyond the 
threshold of the gateway; one after another they appeared as though materialized 
from thin air and continued on along the lighted corridor. I approached the gate 
apparently alone, but as I stepped across the threshold there was a warrior at 
my side where the voice of Kandus had walked.
I looked at the warrior, and my evident amazement must have been written large 
upon my face, for the warrior grinned. I glanced behind me and saw warrior after 
warrior materialize into a flesh and blood man the moment that he crossed the 
threshold. I had walked through the forest accompanied only by voices, but now 
ten warriors walked ahead of me and nine behind and one at my side.
"Are you Kandus?" I asked this one.
"Certainly," he said.
"How do you do it?" I exclaimed.
"It is very simple, but it is the secret of the Invaks," he replied. "I may tell 
you, however, that we are invisible in daylight, or rather when we are not 
illuminated by these special lamps which light our city. If you will notice the 
construction of the city as we proceed, you will see that we take full advantage 
of our only opportunity for visibility."
"Why should you care whether other people can see you or not?" I asked. "Is it 
not sufficient that you can see them and yourselves?"
"Unfortunately, there is the hitch," he said. "We can see you, but we can't see 
each other any more than you can see us.
So that accounted for the grumbling and cursing I had heard upon the march 
through the forest – the warriors had been getting in each other's way because 
they couldn't see one another any more than I could see them.
"You have certainly achieved invisibility," I said, "or are you hatched 
invisible from invisible eggs?"
"No," he replied, "we are quite normal people; but we have learned to make 
ourselves invisible."
Just then I saw an open courtyard ahead of us, and as the warriors passed out of 
the lighted corridor into it they disappeared. When Kandus and I stepped out, I 
was walking alone again. It was most uncanny.
The city was spotted with these courtyards which gave ventilation to the city 
which was, otherwise, entirely roofed and artificially lighted by the amazing 
lights which gave complete visibility to its inhabitants. In every courtyard 
grew spreading trees, and upon the city's roof vines had been trained to grow; 
so that, built as it was in the center of the Forest of Lost Men, it was almost 
as invisible from either the ground or the air as were its people themselves.
Finally we halted in a large courtyard in which were many trees wherein iron 
rings were set with chains attached to them, and here invisible hands snapped 
around one of my ankles a shakle that was fastened to the end of one of these 
chains.
Presently a voice whispered in my ear, "I will try to help you, for I have 
rather taken a liking to you – you've got to admire a man who can jump thirty 
feet into the air; and you've got to be interested in a man who says he comes 
from another world forty-three million miles from Barsoom."
It was Kandus. I felt that I was fortunate in having even the suggestion of a 
friend here, but I wondered what good it would do me. After all, Kandus was not 
the jeddak; and my fate would probably rest in the hands of Ptantus.
I could hear voices crossing and recrossing the courtyard. I could see people 
come down the corridors or streets and then fade into nothingness as they 
stepped out into the courtyard. I could see the backs of men and women appear 
quite as suddenly in the entrances to the streets as they left the courtyard. On 
several occasions voices stopped beside my tree and discussed me. They commented 
upon my light skin and gray eyes. One voice mentioned the great leap into the 
air that one of my captors had recounted to its owner.
Once a delicate perfume stopped near me, and a sweet voice said, "The poor man, 
and he is so handsome!"
"Don't be a fool, Rojas," growled a masculine voice. "He is an enemy, and anyway 
he's not very good-looking."
"I think he is very good-looking," insisted the sweet voice, and how do you know 
he's an enemy?"
"I was not an enemy when I brought my ship down beside the forest," I said, "but 
the treatment I have received is fast making one of me."
"There, you see," said the sweet voice; "he was not an enemy. What is your name, 
poor man?"
"My name is Dotar Sojat, but I am not a 'poor man,'" I replied with a laugh.
"That may be what you think," said the masculine voice. "Come on, Rojas, before 
you make any bigger fool of yourself."
"If you'll give me a sword and come out of your cowardly invisibility, I'll make 
a fool of you, calot," I said.
An invisible, but very material, toe kicked me in the groin. "Keep your place, 
slave!" growled the voice.
I lunged forward and, by chance, got my hands on the fellow; and then I held him 
by his harness for just long enough to feel for his face, and when I had located 
it I handed him a right upper-cut that must have knocked him half way across the 
courtyard.
"That," I said, "will teach you not to kick a man who can't see you."
"Did Motus kick you?" cried the sweet voice, only it wasn't so sweet now; it was 
an angry voice, a shocked voice. "You looked as though you were hitting him – I 
hope you did."
"I did," I said, "and you had better see if there is a doctor in the house."
"Where are you, Motus?" cried the girl.
There was no response; Motus must have gone out like a light. Pretty soon I 
heard some lurid profanity, and a man's voice saying, "Who are you, lying around 
here in the courtyard?" Some voice had evidently stumbled over Motus.
"That must be Motus," I said in the general direction from which the girl's 
voice had last come. "You'd better have him carried in."
"He can lie there until he rots, for all I care," replied the voice as it 
trailed away. Almost immediately I saw the slim figure of a girl materialize in 
the entrance to one of the streets. I could tell from her back that she was an 
angry girl, and if her back were any criterion she was a beautiful girl – 
anyway, she had had a beautiful voice and a good heart. Perhaps these Invaks 
weren't such bad people after all.
4
"That was a beauty that you handed Motus," said a voice behind me.
I wasn't going to bother even to turn around. What was the use of turning around 
and seeing no one there? But when the voice said, "I'll bet he's out for a week, 
the dirty Invak calot," I did turn around, for I knew no Invak had made a remark 
like that.
Chained to a tree near me, I saw another red man (it is strange that I should 
always think of myself as a red man here on Barsoom; and yet, perhaps, not so 
strange after all. Except for my color, I am a red man – a red man in thought 
and feeling to the marrow of my bones. I no longer ever think of myself as a 
Virginian, so ingrained has become my love for this world of my adoption.)
"Well, where did you come from?" I demanded. "Are you one of the invisibles?"
"I am not," replied the man. "I have been here all along. When you were first 
brought I must have been asleep behind my tree, but the people stopping to 
comment on you awoke me. I heard you tell the girl that your name is Dotar 
Sojat. That is a strange name for a red man. Mine is Ptor Fak; I am from 
Zodanga."
Ptor Fak! I recalled him now; he was one of the three Ptor brothers who had 
befriended me that time that I had wished to enter Zodanga in search of Dejah 
Thoris. At first I hesitated to tell him who I really was; but then, knowing him 
to be an honorable man, I was about to when he suddenly exclaimed, "By the 
mother of the nearer moon! Those eyes, that skin!"
"S-h-h!" I cautioned. "I don't know the nature of these people yet, and so I 
thought it wiser to be Dotar Sojat."
"If you're not Dotar Sojat, who are you?" demanded a voice at my elbow. That's 
the trouble with this invisibility business – a man can sneak up on you and 
eavesdrop, and you haven't the slightest idea that there is anyone near you.
"I am the Sultan of Swat," I said, that being the first name that popped into my 
head.
"What's a sultan?" demanded the voice.
"A jeddak of jeddaks," I replied.
"In what country?"
"In Swat."
"I never heard of Swat," said the voice.
"Well, now that it's out, you had better tell your jeddak that he's got a sultan 
chained up here in his back yard."
The voice must have gone away, for I heard it no more. Ptor Fak was laughing. "I 
can see that things are going to brighten up a bit now that you are here," he 
said. "My deepest reverence for whichever one of your ancestors gave you a sense 
of humor. This is the first laugh I have had since they got me."
"How long have you been here?"
"Several months. I was trying out a new motor that we have developed in Zodanga 
and was trying to establish a record for a circumnavigation of Barsoom at the 
Equator, and of course this place had to be on the Equator and right under me 
when my motor quit. How did you get here?"
"I had just escaped from Pankor with Llana, daughter of Gahan of Gathol, and we 
were on our way to Helium to bring back a fleet to teach Hin Abtol a lesson. We 
had neither food nor water on our flier; so I landed beside this forest to get 
some. While I was in the forest, one of these Invaks, invisible of course to 
Llana, climbed aboard the flier and took off with her; and twenty more of them 
jumped on me and took me prisoner."
"A girl was with you! That is too bad. They may kill us, but they'll keep her."
"Pnoxus said that he had taken a fancy to her," I said, bitterly.
"Pnoxus is a calot and the son of a calot and the grandson of a calot," said 
Ptor Fak, illuminatingly. Nothing could have evaluated Pnoxus more concisely.
"What will they do with us?" I asked. "Will we have any opportunity to escape 
that might also give me an opportunity to take Llana away?"
"Well, as long as they keep you chained to a tree, you can't escape; and that's 
what they've done with me ever since I've been here. I think they intend to use 
us in some sort of Games, but just what they are I don't know. Look!" he 
exclaimed, pointing and laughing.
I looked in the direction he indicated and saw two men carrying the limp form of 
a third down one of the streets.
"That must be Motus," said Ptor Fak. "I am afraid that may get you into 
trouble," he added, suddenly sobered.
"Whatever trouble it gets me into, it was worth it," I said. "Think of kicking a 
blind man, and that's what it amounted to. The girl was as mad about it as I; 
she must be a good sort. Rojas – that's rather a pretty name."
"The name of a noblewoman," said Ptor Fak.
"You know her?" I asked.
"No, but you can tell by the endings of their names whether or not they are 
noble and by the beginnings and endings of their names if they're royal. The 
names of the noblemen end in us and the names of noblewomen in as. The names of 
royalty end the same way but always begin with two consonants, like Pnoxus and 
Ptantus."
"Then Motus is a nobleman," I said.
"Yes; that is what is going to make it bad for you."
"Tell me," I said; "how do they make themselves invisible?"
"They have developed something that gives them invisibility for perhaps a day; 
it is something they take internally – a large pill. I understand that they take 
one every morning, so as to be sure that they will be invisible if they have to 
go outside the city. You see it takes about an hour for the stuff to work, and 
if the city were attacked by an enemy they'd be in a bad way if they had to go 
out and fight while visible."
"What enemies can they have around here?" I asked. "Kandus told me that even the 
green men are afraid of them.
"There is another city in the forest inhabited by an offshoot of this tribe," 
explained Ptor Fak; "it is called Onvak, and its people also possess the secret 
of invisibility. Occasionally the Onvaks come and attack Invak, or lie in wait 
for the Invak hunting parties when they go out into the forest."
"I should think it might be rather difficult to fight a battle in which one 
could see neither foe nor friend," I suggested.
"Yes; I understand that there's never very much damage done, though occasionally 
they capture a prisoner. The last battle they had the Invaks took two prisoners, 
and when they got them into the city they discovered that they were both their 
own men. The never know how many of their own people they kill; they just go 
slashing about them with their swords, and Issus help whoever gets in the way."
Just as Ptor Fak finished speaking I felt hands doing something to the shackles 
about my ankles and presently they were unlocked and removed.
"Come, slave," said the voice. Then someone took me by the arm and led me toward 
the entrance to one of the streets.
The moment we entered I could see a warrior at my side and there were others in 
front and behind me. They conducted me along this street through two other 
courtyards in which, of course, they immediately became invisible and I seemed 
to be walking alone with only the pressure of a hand upon my arm to indicate 
that I was not. They took me to a large room in which a number of people were 
standing about in front of and on either side of a desk at which there sat a 
scowling, fierce visaged man.
I was led up to the desk and halted there and the man behind it surveyed me in 
silence for several seconds. His harness was extremely elaborate, the leather 
being beautifully carved and studded with precious stones. The hilt of his sword 
which I could just see above the desk was apparently of gold and it too was 
studded with those rare and beautiful gems of Barsoom which defy description in 
words of earthly origin. Encircling his brow was a diadem of carved leather upon 
the front of which the Barsoomian hieroglyphs which spelled jeddak were 
emblazoned in precious stones. So this was Ptantus, jeddak of Invak. I felt that 
Llana and I could not have fallen into much worse hands.
5
Ptantus looked at me so ferociously that I was sure he was attempting to 
frighten me. It seems to be a way that tyrants and bullies have of attempting to 
break down the morale of a victim before they destroy him; but I was not greatly 
impressed; and, impelled by a rather foolish desire to annoy him, I stopped 
looking at him. I guess that got his goat for he thumped the desk with his fist 
and leaned forward across it.
"Slave!" he almost roared at me, "pay attention to me."
"You haven't said anything yet," I reminded him. "When you say anything worth 
listening to I shall listen, but you don't have to yell at me."
He turned angrily to an officer. "Don't ever dare to bring a prisoner before me 
again," he said, "until he has been instructed how to behave in the presence of 
a jeddak."
"I know how to behave in the presence of a jeddak," I told him, "I have been in 
the presence of some of the greatest jeddaks on Barsoom, and I treat a jeddak 
just as I treat any other man – as he deserves. If he is a nobleman at heart he 
has my deference, if he is a boor he does not."
The inference was clear, and Ptantus colored. "Enough of your insolence," he 
said. "I understand that you are a troublesome fellow, that you gave Pnoxus, the 
prince, a great deal of trouble after your capture and that you struck and badly 
injured one of my nobles."
"That man may have a title," I said, "but he is no noble; he kicked me while he 
was invisible – it was the same as kicking a blind man."
"That is right," said a girlish voice a little way behind me and at one side. I 
turned and looked. It was Rojas.
"You saw this thing done, Rojas?" demanded Ptantus.
"Yes, Motus insulted me; and this man, Dotar Sojat, berated him for it. Then 
Motus kicked him."
"Is this true, Motus?" asked Ptantus, turning his head and looking past me on 
the other side. I turned and glanced in that direction and saw Motus with his 
face swathed in bandages; he was a sorry looking sight.
"I gave the slave what he deserves," he growled; "he is an insolent fellow."
"I quite agree with you," said Ptantus, "and he shall die when the time comes. 
But I did not summon him here to conduct a trial. I, the jeddak, reach my 
decisions without testimony or advice. I sent for him because an officer said he 
could leap thirty feet into the air; and if he can do that it may be worth 
keeping him a while for my amusement."
I couldn't help but smile a little at that for it had been my ability to jump 
that had probably preserved my life upon my advent to Barsoom so many years ago, 
when I had been captured by the green hordes of Thark, and Tars Tarkas had 
ordered me to sak for the edification of Lorquas Ptomel, the jed, and now it was 
going to give me at least a short reprieve from death.
"Why do you smile?" demanded Ptantus. "Do you see anything funny in that? Now 
jump, and be quick about it."
I looked up at the ceiling. It was only about fifteen feet from the floor. "That 
would be only a hop," I said.
"Well hop then," said Ptantus.
I turned and looked behind me. For about twenty feet between me and the doorway 
men and women were crowded thickly together. Thanking my great agility and the 
lesser gravity of Mars, I easily jumped completely over them. I could have made 
a bolt for the door then, leaped to the roof of the city and made my escape; and 
I should have done it had it not been that Llana, of Gathol was still a prisoner 
here.
Exclamations of surprise filled the room at this, to them, marvelous feat of 
agility; and when I leaped back again there was almost a ripple of applause.
"What else can you do?" demanded Ptantus.
"I can make a fool out of Motus with a sword," I said, "as well as with my 
fists, if he will meet me under the lights where I can see him."
Ptantus actually laughed. "I think I shall let you do that sometime when I am 
through with you," he said, "for Motus will most certainly kill you. There is 
probably not a better swordsman on all Barsoom than the noble Motus."
"I shall be delighted to let him try it," I said, "and I can promise you that I 
shall still be able to jump after I have killed Motus. But, if you really want 
to see some jumping," I continued, "take me and the girl who was captured with 
me out into the forest, and we will show you something worthwhile." If I could 
only get outside the gates with Llana I knew that we should be able to get away, 
for I could outdistance any of them even if I had to carry her.
"Take him back and lock him up," said Ptantus; "I have seen and heard enough for 
today;" so they took me back into the courtyard and chained me to my tree.
"Well," said Ptor Fak, after he thought the guards had left, "how did you get 
along?"
I told him all that had transpired in the jeddak's presence; and he said he 
hoped that I would get a chance to meet Motus, as Ptor Fak well knew my 
reputation as a swordsman.
After dark that night, a voice came out and sat down beside me. It was Kandus.
"It's a good thing you jumped for Ptantus today," he said, "the old devil 
thought Pnoxus had been lying to him and after it had been demonstrated that you 
could not jump Ptantus was going to have you destroyed immediately in a very 
unpleasant way he has of dealing with those who have aroused his anger or 
resentment."
"I hope I can keep on amusing him for a while," I said.
"The end will be the same eventually," said Kandus, "but if there is anything I 
can do to make your captivity easier for you I shall be glad to do it."
"It would relieve my mind if you could tell me what has become of the girl who 
was captured at the same time that I was.
"She is confined in the quarters of the female slaves. It's over on that side of 
the city beyond the palace," and he nodded in that direction.
"What do you think is going to happen to her?" I asked.
"Ptantus and Pnoxus are quarreling about her," he replied; "they are always 
quarreling about something; they hate each other. Because Pnoxus wants her 
Ptantus doesn't want him to have her; and so, for the time being at least, she 
is safe. I must go now," he added a moment later, and I could tell from the 
direction of his voice that he had arisen. "If there is anything I can do for 
you be sure to let me know."
"If you could bring me a piece of wire," I said, "I would appreciate it."
"What do you want of wire?" he asked.
"Just to pass the time," I said; "I bend them around in different shapes and 
make little figures of them to amuse myself. I am not accustomed to being 
chained to a tree, and time is going to hang very heavy on my hands."
"Certainly," he said, "I'll be glad to bring you a piece of wire; I'll be back 
with it in just a moment, and until then good-by."
"You are fortunate to have made a friend here," said Ptor Fak; "I've been here 
several months and I haven't made one."
"I think it was my jumping," I said; "it has served me in good stead before and 
in many ways."
It was not long before Kandus returned with the wire. I thanked him and he left 
immediately.
It was night now and both moons were in the sky. Their soft light illuminated 
the courtyard, while the swift flight of Thuria across the vault of heaven swept 
the shadows of the trees into constantly changing movement across the scarlet 
sward, turned purple now in the moonlight.
Ptor Fak's chain and mine were sufficiently long to just permit us to sit side 
by side, and I could see that his curiosity was aroused by my request for a 
piece of wire by the fact that he kept watching it in my hand. Finally he could 
contain himself no longer. "What are you going to do with that wire?" he asked.
"You'd be surprised," I said; and then I paused for I felt a presence near me, 
"at the clever things one may do with a piece of wire."
6
Were I to live here in Invak the rest of my life I am sure I could never 
accustom myself to these uncanny presences, or to the knowledge that someone 
might always be standing close to me listening to everything that I said to Ptor 
Fak.
Presently I felt a soft hand upon my arm, and then that same sweet voice that I 
had heard before said, "It is Rojas."
"I am glad that you came," I said. "I wished an opportunity to thank you for the 
testimony you gave in my behalf before Ptantus today."
"I'm afraid it didn't do you much good," she replied; "Ptantus doesn't like me."
"Why should he dislike you?" I asked.
"Pnoxus wanted me as his mate and I refused him; so, though Ptantus doesn't like 
Pnoxus, his pride was hurt; and he has been venting his spleen on my family ever 
since." She moved closer to me, I could feel the warmth of her arm against mine 
as she leaned against me. "Dotar Sojat," she said, "I wish that you were an 
Invak so that you might remain here forever in safety."
"That is very sweet of you, Rojas," I said, "but I am afraid that Fate has 
ordained it otherwise."
The soft arm stole up around my shoulders. The delicate perfume which had first 
announced her presence to me that afternoon, filled my nostrils and I could feel 
her warm breath upon my cheek. "Would you like to stay here, Dotar Sojat," she 
paused, "–with me?"
The situation was becoming embarrassing. Even Ptor Fak was embarrassed and there 
were no soft invisible arms about his neck. I knew that he was embarrassed 
because he had moved away from us the full length of his chain. Of course he 
couldn't see Rojas any more than I could but he must have heard her words; and, 
being a gentleman, he had removed himself as far as possible; and now he sat 
there with his back toward us. Being made love to by a beautiful girl in a 
moonlit garden may be romantic, but if the girl is wholly invisible it is like 
being made love to by a ghost; though I can assure you that Rojas didn't feel 
like a ghost at all.
"You have not answered me, Dotar Sojat," she said.
I have never loved but one woman – my incomparable Dejah Thoris; nor do I, like 
some men, run around pretending love for other women. So, as you say in America, 
I was on the spot. They say that all is fair in love and war; and as far as I 
was concerned I, personally, was definitely at war with Invak. Here was an enemy 
girl whose loyalty I could win or whose bitter hatred I could incur by my reply. 
Had I had only myself to consider I should not have hesitated; but the fate of 
Llana of Gathol outweighted all other considerations, and so I temporized.
"No matter how much I should like to be with you always, Rojas," I said, "I know 
that is impossible. I shall be here only subject to the whims of your jeddak and 
then death will separate us forever."
"Oh, no, Dotar Sojat," she cried, drawing my cheek close to hers, "you must not 
die – for I love you."
"But Rojas," I expostulated, "how can you love a man whom you have known for 
only a few hours and seen but for a few minutes?"
"I knew that I loved you the moment that I set eyes upon you," she replied, "and 
I've seen you for a great many more than a few minutes. I have been almost 
constantly in the courtyard since I first saw you, watching you. I know every 
changing expression of your face. I have seen the light of anger, and of humor, 
and of friendship in your eyes. Had I known you all my life I could not know you 
better. Kiss me, Dotar Sojat," she concluded. And, then I did something for 
which I shall probably always be ashamed. I took Rojas in my arms and kissed 
her.
Did you ever hold a ghost in your arms and kiss her? It humiliates me to admit 
that it was not an unpleasant experience. But Rojas clung to me so tightly and 
for so long that I was covered with confusion and embarrassment.
"Oh, that we could be always thus," sighed Rojas.
Personally I thought that however pleasant, it might be a little inconvenient. 
However, I said, "Perhaps you will come often again, Rojas, before I die."
"Oh, don't speak of death," she cried.
"But you know yourself that Ptantus will have me killed – unless I escape."
"Escape!" She scarcely breathed the word.
"But I suppose there will be no escape for me," I added, and I tried not to 
sound too hopeful.
"Escape," she said again, "Escape! ah if I could but go with you."
"Why not?" I asked. I had gone this far and I felt that I might as well go all 
the way if by so doing I could release Llana of Gathol from captivity.
"Yes, why not?" repeated Rojas, "but how?"
"If I could become invisible," I suggested.
She thought that over for a moment and then said, "It would be treason. It would 
mean death, a horrible death, were I apprehended."
"I couldn't ask that of you," I said, and I felt like a hypocrite for that I 
knew that I could ask it of her if I thought that she would do it. I would 
willingly have sacrificed the life of every person in Invak, including my own, 
if thereby I could have liberated Llana of Gathol. I was desperate, and when a 
man is desperate he will resort to any means to win his point.
"I am most unhappy here," said Rojas, in a quite natural and human attempt at 
self-justification. "Of course, if we were successful," continued Rojas, "it 
wouldn't make any difference who knew what I had done because they could never 
find us again. We would both be invisible, and together we could make our way to 
your country." She was planning it all out splendidly.
"Do you know where the flier is that brought the girl prisoner?" I asked.
"Yes, it was landed on the roof of the city."
"That will simplify matters greatly," I said. "If we all become invisible we can 
reach it and escape with ease."
"What do you mean 'all'?" she demanded.
"Why I want to take Ptor Fak with me," I said, "and Llana of Gathol who was 
captured the same time I was."
Rojas froze instantly and her arms dropped from about me. "Not the girl," she 
said.
"But, Rojas, I must save her," I insisted. There was no reply. I waited a moment 
and then I said, "Rojas!" but she did not answer, and a moment later I saw her 
slim back materialize in the entrance to one of the streets opposite me. A slim 
back surmounted by a defiantly held head. That back radiated feminine fury.
7
After Rojas left I was plunged almost into the depths of despair. Had she but 
waited I could have explained everything and the four of us might have escaped. 
I will admit that I have never been able to fathom the ways of women, but I felt 
that Rojas would never return. I presume that my conviction was influenced by 
those lines from The Mourning Bride, "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred 
turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned."
However, I did not give up hope entirely – I never do. Instead of repining, I 
went to work on the lock of my shackle with the bit of wire that Kandus had 
brought me. Ptor Fak moved over to watch me. I sat facing my tree, close to it, 
and bending over my work; and Ptor Fak leaned close and bent over it too. We 
were trying to hide from preying eyes the thing that I was attempting to do; and 
as it was now late at night we hoped that there would be no one in the courtyard 
other than ourselves.
At last I found the combination and after that it took me only a few seconds to 
unlock Ptor Fak's shackle. Then a voice behind us spoke.
"What are you doing?" it demanded; "why are you not asleep?"
"How can we sleep with people constantly annoying us?" I asked, hiding the wire 
beneath me.
"Stand up," said the voice, and as we stood up the shackles fell away from our 
ankles.
"I thought so," said the voice. Then I saw the piece of wire rise from the 
ground and disappear. "You are very clever, but I don't think Ptantus will 
appreciate your cleverness when he hears about this. I shall set a guard to 
watch you two constantly hereafter."
"Everything is going wrong," I said to Ptor Fak a moment later, after I saw a 
warrior enter one of the streets, hoping that it was he who had spoken to us and 
that there were no others around.
"It seems hopeless, doesn't it?" said Ptor Fak.
"No," I snapped, "not while I still live."
The following afternoon Kandus' voice came and sat down beside me. "How goes 
it?" he asked.
"Terrible," I said.
"How is that?" he asked.
"I can't tell you," I said, "because there is probably a guard standing right 
here listening to everything that I say."
"There is no one here but us," said Kandus.
"How do you know?" I asked; "your people are as invisible to you as they are to 
me."
"We learn to sense the presence of others," he explained; "just how, I can't 
tell you."
"How you do it is immaterial," I said, "as long as you are sure there is no one 
here listening to us. I will be perfectly frank with you, I succeeded in 
removing Ptor Fak's shackle and my own. Someone caught me at it and took the 
piece of wire away from me." I did not tell Kandus that I had broken the wire he 
had given me in two and that I still had the other half of it in my pocket 
pouch. There is no use in telling even a friend everything that you know.
"How in the world could you have hoped to escape even if you could remove your 
shackles?" he asked.
"It was only the first step," I told him. "We really had no plan, but we knew 
that we certainly could not escape as long as we were shackled."
Kandus laughed. "There is something in that," he said, and then he was silent 
for a moment. "The girl who was captured with you," he said presently.
"What of her?" I asked.
"Ptanus has given her to Motus," he replies; "it was all done very suddenly. 
Why, no one seems to know, because Ptantus hasn't any particular love for 
Motus."
If Kandus didn't know why, I thought that I did. I saw Rojas's hand and a 
green-eyed devil in it – jealousy is a heartless monster. "Will you do something 
more for me, Kandus?" I asked.
"Gladly, if I can," he replied.
"It may seem like a very silly request," I said, "but please don't ask me to 
explain. I want you to go to Rojas and tell her that Llana of Gathol, the girl 
that Ptantus has given to Motus, is the daughter of my daughter." It may seem 
strange to you denizens of earth that Rojas could have become infatuated with a 
grandfather, but you must remember that Mars is not Earth and that I am unlike 
all other Earth-men. I do not know how old I am. I recall no childhood. It seems 
to me that have just always been, and I have always been the same. I look now as 
I did when I fought with the Confederate army during the Civil War – a man of 
about thirty. And here on Barsoom, where the natural span of life is around a 
thousand years and people do not commence to show the ravages of old age until 
just shortly before dissolution, differences in age do not count. You might fall 
in love with a beautiful girl on Barsoom; and, as far as appearances were 
concerned, she might be seventeen or she might be seven hundred.
"Of course I don't understand," said Kandus, "but I'll do what you ask."
"And now another favor," I said. "Ptantus half promised me that he would let me 
duel with Motus and he assured me that Motus would kill me. Is there any 
possible way of arranging for that duel to be fought today?"
"He will kill you," said Kandus.
"That is not what I asked," I said.
"I don't know how it could be done," said Kandus.
"Now if Ptantus has any sporting blood," I suggested, "and likes to lay a wager 
now and then, you bet him that if Motus will fight me while Motus is still 
visible, that he cannot kill me but that I can kill him whenever I choose."
"But you can't do it," said Kandus. "Motus is the best swordsman on Barsoom. You 
would be killed and I should lose my money."
"How can I convince you?" I said. "I know that I can kill Motus in a fight. If I 
had anything of value, I would give it to you as security for your wager."
"I have something of value," said Ptor Fak, "and I would wager it and everything 
that I could scrape together on Dotar Sojat." He reached into his pocket pouch 
and drew froth a gorgeous jewelled medallion. "This," he said to Kandus, "is 
worth a jeddak's ransom – take it as security and place its value on Dotar 
Sojat."
A second later the medallion disappeared in thin air, and we knew that Kandus 
had reached out his hand and taken it.
"I'll have to go inside and examine it," said Kandus' voice, "for of course I 
cannot see it now that it has become invisible. I'll not be gone long."
"That is very decent of you, Ptor Fak," I said, "that medallion must be almost 
invaluable."
"One of my remote ancestors was a jeddak," explained Ptor Fak; "that medallion 
belonged to him, and it has been in the family for thousands of years."
"You must be quite certain of my swordsmanship," I said.
"I am," he replied; "but even had I been less certain, I should have done the 
same."
"That is friendship," I said, "and I appreciate it."
"It is priceless," said a voice at my side, and I knew that Kandus had returned. 
"I will go at once and see what can be done about the duel."
"Don't forget what I asked you to tell Rojas," I reminded him.
8
After Kandus left us, time dragged heavily. The afternoon wore on and it became 
so late that I was positive that he had failed in his mission. I was sitting 
dejectedly thinking of the fate that was so soon to overtake Llana of Gathol. I 
knew that she would destroy herself, and I was helpless to avert the tragedy. 
And, while I was thus sunk in the depths of despair, a hand was placed on mine. 
A soft hand; and a voice said, "Why didn't you tell me?"
"You didn't give me a chance," I said; "you just ran out on me without giving me 
a chance to explain."
"I am sorry," said the voice, "and I am sorry for the harm I have done Llana of 
Gathol; and now I have condemned you to death."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Ptantus has commanded Motus to fight you and kill you."
I threw my arms around Rojas and kissed her. I couldn't help it, I was so happy. 
"Good!" I exclaimed. "Though neither of us realized it at the time, you have 
done me a great favor."
"What do you mean?" she demanded.
"You have given me the chance to meet Motus in a fair fight; and now I know that 
Llana of Gathol will be safe – as far as Motus is concerned."
"Motus will kill you," insisted Rojas.
"Will you be there to see the duel?" I asked.
"I do not wish to see you killed," she said, and clung to me tightly.
"You haven't a thing to worry about, I shall not be killed; and Motus will never 
have Llana of Gathol or any other woman."
"You can tell his friends to start digging his grave immediately," said Ptor 
Fak.
"You are that sure?" said Rojas.
"We have the princess," said Ptor Fak, which is the same as saying in America 
"It is in the bag." The expression derives from the Barsoomian chess game, 
jetan, in which the taking of a princess decides the winner and ends the game.
"I hope you are right," said Rojas. "At least you have encouraged me to believe, 
and it is not so difficult to believe anything of Dotar Sojat."
"Do you know when I am to fight Motus?" I asked.
"This evening," replied Rojas, "before the whole Court in the throne room of the 
palace."
"And after I have killed him?" I asked.
"That is to be feared, too," said Rojas, "for Ptantus will be furious. He will 
not only have lost a fighting man but all the money he has wagered on the duel. 
But it will soon be time," she added, "and I must go now." I saw her open my 
pocket pouch and drop something into it, and then she was gone.
I knew from the surreptitious manner in which she had done it that she did not 
wish anyone to know what she had put in my pocket pouch, or in fact that she had 
put anything into it; and so I did not investigate immediately, fearing that 
someone may have been watching and had their suspicions aroused. The constant 
strain of feeling that unseen eyes may be upon you, and that unseen ears may be 
listening to your every word was commencing to tell upon me; and I was becoming 
as nervous as a cat with seven kittens.
After a long silence Ptor Fak said, "What are you going to do with her?"
I knew what he meant; because the same question had been worrying me. "If we 
succeed in getting out of this," I said, "I am going to take her back to Helium 
with me and let Dejah Thoris convince her that there are a great many more 
charming men that I there." I had had other women fall in love with me and this 
would not be the first time that Dejah Thoris had unscrambled things for me. For 
she knew that no matter how many women loved me, she was the only woman whom I 
loved.
"You are a brave man," said Ptor Fak.
"You say that because you do not know Dejah Thoris," I replied; "it is not that 
I am a brave man, it is that she is a wise woman."
That started me off again thinking about her, although I must confess that she 
is seldom absent from my thoughts. I could picture her now in our marble palace 
in Helium, surrounded by the brilliant men and women who crowd her salons. I 
could feel her hand in mine as we trod the stately Barsoomian dances she loves 
so well. I could see her as though she were standing before me this minute, and 
I could see Thuvia of Ptarth, and Carthoris, and Tara of Helium, and Gahan of 
Gathol. That magnificent coterie of handsome men and beautiful women bound 
together by ties of love and marriage. What memories they evoked!
A soft hand caressed my cheek and a voice, tense with nervousness said, "Live! 
Live for me! I shall return at midnight and you must be here;" then she was 
gone.
For some reason or other which I cannot explain, her words quieted my nerves. 
They gave me confidence that at midnight I should be free. Her presence reminded 
me that she had dropped something into my pocket pouch and I opened it casually 
and put my hand into it. My fingers came in contact with a number of spheres, 
about the size of marbles, and I knew that the secret of invisibility was mine. 
I moved close to Ptor Fak; and once again with the remaining bit of wire I 
picked the lock of his shackle, and then I handed him one of the spheres that 
Rojas had given me.
I leaned very close to his ear. "Take this," I whispered; "in an hour you will 
be invisible. Go to the far end of the courtyard and wait. When I return I too 
shall be invisible and when I whistle thus, answer me." I whistled a few of the 
opening notes of the national anthem of Helium, a signal that Dejah Thoris and I 
had often used.
"I understand," said Ptor Fak.
"What do you understand?" demanded a voice.
Doggonit! there was that invisibility nemesis again and now all our plans might 
be knocked into a cocked hat. How much had the fellow heard? What had he seen? I 
trembled inwardly, fearing the answer. Then I felt hands at my ankle and saw my 
shackle fall open.
"Well," repeated the voice peremptorially, "what was it that you understood?"
"I was just telling Ptor Fak," I said, "how I was going to kill Motus, and he 
said he understood perfectly."
"So you think you are going to kill Motus, do you?" demanded the voice. "Well, 
you are going to be very much surprised for a few minutes, and after that you 
will be dead. Come along with me; the duel is about to take place."
I breathed a sigh of relief. The fellow had evidently seen or heard nothing of 
any importance.
"I'll see you later, Ptor Fak," I said.
"Good-by and good luck," he replied. And then, accompanied by the warrior, I 
entered a city street on my way to the throne room of Ptantus, jeddak of Invak.
9
"So you think you're pretty good with the sword," said the warrior walking at my 
side and who was now visible to me.
"Yes," I replied.
"Well, you're going to get a lesson in swordsmanship tonight. Of course it won't 
do you much good because after it is all over you will be dead."
"You are very encouraging," I said, "but if you are fond of Motus, I suggest 
that you save your encouragement for him. He is going to need it."
"I am not fond of Motus," said the warrior; "no one is fond of Motus. He is a 
calot and I apologize to calots for the comparison. I hope that you kill him but 
of course you won't. He always kills his man, but he is tricky. Watch out for 
that."
"You mean he doesn't fight fair?" I asked.
"No one ever taught him the word," said the warrior.
"Well, thank you for warning me," I said; "I hope you stay to see the fight, 
maybe you will be surprised."
"I shall certainly stay to see it," he said. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. 
But I am not going to be surprised; I know just what will happen. He will play 
with you for about five minutes and then he'll run you through; and that won't 
please Ptantus for he likes a long drawn out duel."
"Oh, he does does he?" I said. "Well, he shall have it." That fitted in 
perfectly with my plans. I had swallowed one of the invisibility spheres just 
before the warrior unshackled me, and I knew that it would take about an hour 
for it to effect perfect invisibility. It might be difficult to drag the duel 
out for an hour, but I hoped to gain a little time by stalling up to the moment 
that we crossed swords. And I accomplished it now by walking slowly to kill as 
much time as possible, and twice I stopped to tighten the fastenings of my 
sandals.
"What's the matter?" demanded the warrior. "Why do you walk so slow? Are you 
afraid?"
"Terrified," I replied. "Everyone has told me how easily Motus is going to kill 
me. Do you think that a man wants to run to his death?"
"Well, I don't blame you much," said the warrior, "and I won't hurry you."
"A lot of you Invaks are pretty good fellows," I remarked.
"Of course we are," he said. "What made you think anything different?"
"Pnoxus, Motus, and Ptantus," I replied.
The warrior grinned. "I guess you are a pretty shrewd fellow," he said, "to have 
sized them up this quickly."
"Everybody seems to hate them," I said; "why don't you get rid of them? I'll 
start you off by getting rid of Motus tonight."
"You may be a good swordsman," said the warrior, "but you are bragging too much; 
I never knew a braggart yet who could 'take the princess.'"
"I am not bragging," I said; "I only state facts." As a matter of fact, I often 
realize that in speaking of my swordsmanship, it may sound to others as though I 
were bragging but really I do not feel that I am bragging. I know that I am the 
greatest swordsman of two worlds. It would be foolish for me to simper, and suck 
my finger, and say that I was not. I am, and everyone who has seen me fight 
knows that I am. Is it braggadocio to state a simple fact? It has saved a number 
of lives, for it has kept no end of brash young men from challenging me. 
Fighting has been, you might say, my life's work. There is not a lethal weapon 
in the use of which I do not excel, but the sword is my favorite. I love a good 
blade and I love a good fight and I hoped that tonight I should have them both. 
I hoped that Motus was all that they thought him. The thought might have 
obtruded on the consciousness of some men that perhaps he was, but no such idea 
ever entered my head. They say that overconfidence often leads to defeat, but I 
do not think that I am ever overconfident. I am merely wholly confident, and I 
maintain that there is all the difference in the world there.
At last we came to the throne room. It was not the same room in which I had 
first seen Ptantus; it was a much larger room, a more ornate room; and at one 
side of it was a raised dias on which were two thrones. They were empty now, for 
the jeddak and the jeddara had not yet appeared. The floor of the room was 
crowded with nobles and their women. Along three sides of the room were several 
tiers of benches, temporary affairs, which had evidently been brought in for the 
occasion. They were covered with gay cloths and cushions; but they were still 
empty, for, of course, no one could sit until the jeddak came and was seated.
As I was brought into the room, a number of people called attention to me and 
soon many eyes were upon me.
In my well-worn fighting harness, I looked rather drab in the midst of this 
brilliant company with their carved leather harness studded with jewels. The 
Invaks, like most of the red nations of Barsoom, are a handsome people and those 
in the throne room of this tiny nation, hidden away in the Forest of Lost Men, 
made a brave appearance beneath the strange and beautiful lights which gave them 
visibility.
I heard many comments concerning me. One woman said, "He does not look like a 
Barsoomian at all."
"He is very handsome," said a sweet voice, which I immediately recognized; and 
for the second time I looked Rojas in the face. As our eyes met I could see her 
tremble. She was a beautiful girl, by far the most beautiful of all the women in 
the room, I am sure.
"Let's talk with him," she said to a woman and two men standing with her.
"That would be interesting," said the woman, and the four of them walked toward 
me.
Rojas looked me square in the eye. "What is your name?" she asked, without a 
flicker of recognition.
"Dotar Sojat," I replied.
"The Sultan of Swat," said one of the men, "whatever a sultan is and wherever 
Swat may be." I could scarcely repress a smile.
"Where is Swat?" inquired the woman.
"In India," I replied.
"I think the fellow is trying to make fools of us," snapped one of the men. "He 
is just making up those names. There are no such places on Barsoom."
"I didn't say they were on Barsoom," I retorted. "They are forty-three million 
miles from Barsoom."
"If they're not on Barsoom, where are they?" demanded the man.
"On Jasoom," I replied.
"Come," said the man, "I have had enough of this slave's insolence."
"I find him very interesting," said the woman.
"So do I," said Rojas.
"Well, enjoy it while you may," said the man, "for in a few minutes he will be 
dead."
"Have you laid a wager on that?" I asked.
"I couldn't find anyone to bet against Motus," he growled. "Kandus was the only 
fool to do that and the jeddak covered his entire wager."
"That is too bad," I said; "someone is losing an opportunity to make some 
money."
"Do you think you will win?" asked Rojas, trying to conceal the eagerness in her 
voice.
"Of course I shall win," I replied. "I always do. You look like a very 
intelligent girl," I said, "if I may speak to you alone I will tell you a little 
secret."
She saw that I had something that I wished to say to her in private, but I will 
admit that I had put her in rather an embarrassing position. However, the other 
woman helped me out."
"Go ahead, Rojas," she urged. "I think it would be fun to hear what he has to 
say."
Thus encouraged Rojas took me to one side. "What is it?" she asked.
"Llana of Gathol," I said. "How are we to get her?"
She caught her breath. "I never thought of that," she said.
"Could you get one of those invisibility spheres to her right away?" I asked.
"For you, yes," she said. "For you I would do anything."
"Good; and tell her to come out into the courtyard by the quarters of the slave 
women. A little after midnight she will hear me whistle. She will recognize the 
air. She must answer and then wait for me. Will you do that for me, Rojas?"
"Yes, but what excuse am I to make for leaving my friends?"
"Tell them you are going to get some money to wager on me," I said.
Rojas smiled. "That is a splendid idea," she said. And a moment later she had 
made her explanations to her friends and I saw her leave the throne room.
10
The crowd was growing restless waiting for the jeddak, but I was more than 
pleased by this delay as it would shorten the time that I should have to wait 
before I could achieve invisibility.
It seemed now that everything had been nicely arranged; and when I saw Rojas 
return to the throne room and she gave me a quick fleeting smile, I was 
convinced that almost the last of my worries were over. There was really only 
one doubt remaining in my mind, and that was as to what might happen to me after 
I had killed Motus. I had no doubt but that Ptantus would be furious; and being 
a tyrant with the reactions of a tyrant, he might order my immediate death. 
Anticipating this, however, I had decided to make a run for the nearest 
courtyard; and if sufficient time had elapsed since I had taken the invisibility 
sphere, I would only have to step out into the open to elude them. And, once in 
one of the courtyards, and invisible, I knew that I could escape.
Suddenly trumpets blared and the people fell back to each side of the throne 
room. Then, preceded by the trumpeters, Ptantus and his jeddara entered the 
throne room accompanied by a band of gorgeously trapped courtiers.
I glanced at the great clock on the wall. It was exactly the 8th zode which is 
the equivalent of 10:48 P.M. Earth time. By midnight Llana of Gathol would have 
achieved invisibility – if Rojas had given her the sphere. That was the 
question. Yet I felt that Rojas had not failed me. I firmly believed that she 
had done her part.
The royal pair made their way slowly across the room to the dais and seated 
themselves upon their thrones, whereat the nobles and their women found their 
places on the benches.
From somewhere Motus had appeared; and he, and a noble who accompanied him, and 
I, and my warrior guard, were alone upon the floor. A fifth man then appeared 
who I later discovered was what you might call a referee, or umpire. He summoned 
me forward, and the five of us advanced and stopped before the throne.
"I bring you the noble Motus," he said addressing Ptantus, "and Dotar Sojat, the 
Sultan of Swat, who are to duel to the death with long-swords."
The jeddak nodded. "Let them fight," he said, "and see that you fight fair," he 
added, glaring directly at me.
"And, I suppose that Motus does not have to fight fair," I said; "but that is 
immaterial to me. I shall kill him however he fights."
The referee was almost beside himself with embarrassment. "Silence, slave!" he 
whispered. He carried an extra sword which he handed to me and then motioned us 
to cross swords.
Instead of adhering to this honorable custom, Motus lunged for my heart.
"That was unwise, Motus," I said, as I parried the thrust; "I am going to make 
you suffer a little more for that."
"Silence, slave," demanded the referee.
"Silence yourself, calot," I replied, "and get out of my way. I am not supposed 
to be fighting two men," I pricked Motus on the right breast and brought blood, 
"but I shall be glad too if you will draw."
Motus came at me again, but he was wary and he was a good swordsman.
"Your face is all black and swollen, Motus," I said; "it looks as if someone had 
hit you, for that is what a son-of-a-calot is apt to get when he kicks a blind 
man."
"Silence," screamed the referee.
I fought on the defensive at first with one eye on the great clock. It had been 
over half an hour since I had taken the invisibility sphere, and I planned on 
letting Motus live another half hour so as to be quite sure that I had gained 
potential invisibility before I finished him off.
By fighting on the defensive, I compelled Motus to do all the work; and by 
repeatedly side-stepping his most vicious lunges, letting them slip off my blade 
so that he had to leap quickly back, I subjected him to considerable nervous as 
well as physical strain, so that presently the sweat was streaming down his 
body. And, now I commenced to touch him here and there; and blood mixed with the 
sweat until he was a sorry looking spectacle, although nowhere had he received a 
severe wound.
The crowd was all on Motus's side; that is, all who were vocal. I knew of two at 
least who hoped that I would win, and I guess that there were many others who 
disliked Motus but who dared not cheer on an alien and a slave.
"You are tiring, Motus," I said to him; "hadn't you better finish me off now 
before you become wholly exhausted?"
"I'll finish you off all right, slave," he came back, "if you'll stand still and 
fight."
"It is not time to kill you yet, Motus," I said, glancing up at the clock, "when 
the hand points to eleven xats past the 8th zode, I shall kill you."
"Silence," screeched the referee.
"What is the slave saying?" demanded Ptantus in stentorian tones.
"I said," I shouted back at him, "that I should kill Motus at exactly 8 zodes, 
11 xats. Watch the clock, Ptantus, for at that instant you are going to lose 
your wager, and Motus his life."
"Silence," commanded the jeddak.
"Now, Motus," I whispered, "I am going to show you how easily I can kill you 
when the time comes," and with that I disarmed him and, sent his sword 
clattering across the floor.
A mighty gasp arose from the audience, for now under the rules of a duel of this 
nature, I was at liberty to run Motus through the heart; but instead I rested my 
point upon the floor and turned to the referee.
"Go and fetch Motus's sword," I said, "and return it to him."
Motus was trembling a little. I could see his knees shake though almost 
imperceptibly. I knew then what I had suspected before – Motus was yellow.
While the referee was retrieving Motus' sword, a little ripple of applause ran 
through the stands. But Ptantus only sat and scowled more fiercely; I fear that 
Ptantus did not like me.
When Motus' sword was returned to him, he came for me furiously; and I knew 
perfectly well what was in his mind; he was going to finish me off immediately. 
I disarmed him again; and again I lowered my point, while the referee without 
waiting to be told ran after the blade.
Now Motus was more wary. I could see that he was trying to work me around to 
some position in which he wished to have me. I noticed presently that the 
referee was not within my range of vision, and a quick glance told me he was 
standing directly behind me; it was not intuition that told me why, for I had 
seen that trick played before by crooked swordsmen with an accomplice. I heard a 
few groans from the stands; and then I knew that I was right, for no honorable 
person could witness such a thing without voicing his disapproval.
When Motus next lunged, hoping to force me back, the referee would 
"accidentally" be close behind me; I would bump into him, and Motus would have 
me at his mercy. It is a despicable trick; and Ptantus must have seen it coming, 
but he made no move to prevent it.
I watched Motus' eyes and they telegraphed his intention to me an instant before 
he lunged, throwing all his weight behind it. I had slightly crouched in 
anticipation of this and my earthly muscles carried me to one side, and Motus's 
sword drove to the hilt through the body of the referee.
For a moment pandemonium reigned in the throne room. The entire audience stood 
up in the stands and there were cheers and groans, and something told me that 
the cheers were for me and the groans for Motus and the referee.
Motus was a terribly unstrung and rattled man as he jerked his blade from the 
body of the dead man, but now I gave him no respite. I went after him in 
earnest, though not yet for the kill. I cut a deep gash across his swollen jaw. 
"You will not make a good looking corpse now, Motus," I said, "and before I am 
through with you, you are going to look a great deal worse."
"Calot!" he snapped, and then he rushed me, cutting and thrusting violently. I 
parried every cut and thrust and wove a net of steel around him, and every time 
he missed I brought blood from some new spot on his body.
"You have three xats to live, Motus," I said; "you had better make the best of 
them."
He rushed at me like a madman; but I sidestepped him and as he turned I took off 
one of his ears as neatly as a surgeon could have done it – I thought he was 
going to faint, for his knees seemed to give beneath him and he staggered about 
for a moment.
I waited for for him to recover control of himself, and then I went to work on 
him again. I tried to carve my initials on his breast, but by this time there 
was not a whole place large enough; from the waist up he looked like a plate of 
raw hamburger.
The floor was covered with his blood by now; and as he rushed me again 
furiously, he slipped and fell. He lay there for a moment glaring at me, for I 
am sure he expected that I would finish him off then; but instead I said, "You 
have a xat and a half to live yet, Motus."
He staggered to his feet and tried to throw himself upon me, screaming 
imprecations as he came. I think that by this time Motus had gone quite mad from 
pain and terror. I felt no sympathy for him – he was a rat; and now he was 
fighting like a cornered rat.
"The floor is too slippery here," I said to him; "lets go over by the jeddak's 
throne – I am sure that he would like to see the finish."
I maneuvered him around into position and backed him across the floor until we 
stood directly in front of Ptantus.
It is seldom that I have ever punished a man as I punished Motus; but I felt 
that he deserved it, and I was the plaintiff, prosecuting attorney, jury, and 
judge; I was also the executioner.
Motus was gibbering now and making futile passes at me with his blade. Ptantus 
was glaring at me, and the audience was tense with breathless expectancy. I saw 
many an eye glance quickly at the clock.
"One more tal, Motus," I said. A tal is about eight tenths of an earthly second.
At that Motus turned suddenly and ran screaming toward the great doorway that 
led from the throne room; and again the audience rose to its feet, and there 
were groans and cries of "Coward!"
The fight was to have been to the death and Ptantus had wagered that I would not 
kill Motus. If I did not kill him, I feared that Ptantus would then claim the 
money; so I risked everything on an art I had often practiced for my own 
amusement. I carried my sword hand far behind my right shoulder and then brought 
it forward with all my strength, releasing the blade point first. It flew like a 
sped arrow and drove through Motus' body below the left shoulder blade at 
exactly 11 xats past the 8th zode.
11
I turned and bowed to Ptantus, now having no sword with which to salute him. He 
should have acknowledged this customary courtesy but he did nothing of the sort, 
he merely glared at me and stood up. The jeddara arose too; and, with the 
trumpeters before them and the courtiers behind, the two stalked out of the 
throne room, making a wide detour to avoid the blood and the two corpses.
After they had left, the warrior who had brought me from the courtyard came and 
touched me on the arm. "Come," he said. "All you get out of this is to be 
chained to your tree again."
"I got a great deal more than that out of it," I replied, as I accompanied him 
across the throne room; "I had the satisfaction of avenging a cowardly kick."
As we crossed towards the doorway, someone started cheering and then practically 
the entire audience took it up. "That is an unusual demonstration," said the 
warrior, "but you deserve it. No one on Barsoom ever saw such swordplay as you 
showed us tonight – and I thought you were boasting!" He laughed.
I knew that it would be necessary for us to cross a couple of courtyards before 
we reached the one in which I had been confined; and I realized that if I 
suddenly disappeared before the warrior's eyes, he would know that I had 
obtained invisibility spheres; and while of course he couldn't have found me, it 
would certainly have started an investigation and would have upset our plans for 
escape. If they knew that I was at large and invisible, one of the first things 
that they would most naturally have done would have been to place a guard over 
my flier.
If, however, they merely thought that I had escaped, and was not invisible, they 
would feel that they need only search for me to find me very quickly. Of course, 
they might still place a guard over the flier; but such a guard would not be so 
on the alert, and we still might board the ship and get away before they were 
aware of our presence.
As we approached the first courtyard, I suddenly broke away from my guard and 
ran ahead with all my earthly speed. The warrior shouted for me to halt, and 
broke into a run. As I reached the entrance to the courtyard I pretended to 
dodge around the corner, which would of course have hidden me from him.
I must confess that in that short sprint my heart had been in my mouth, for of 
course I could not know whether or not I should become invisible.
However, the moment that I left the lighted corridor I absolutely disappeared; I 
could not see any part of my body – it was the strangest sensation that I have 
ever experienced.
I had made my plans, and now I ran to the far end of the courtyard and leaped 
lightly to the roof of the city.
I could hear the warrior guard rushing about calling to me; my disappearance 
must certainly have mystified him, for having no idea that I could become 
invisible, there was really no way in which he could account for it except on 
the theory that I had run into the entrance to another street. However, he was 
probably confident that I did not have time to do this.
Well, I did not bother much about him or what he was thinking; instead I took 
off across the roof in search of the courtyard where Ptor Fak was awaiting me 
and where I expected to meet Rojas at midnight; and it was pretty close to what 
we call midnight then, the Barsoomian midnight occurring twenty-five xats after 
the eighth zode.
A Martian day is divided into ten zodes, there being four tals to a xat, or two 
hundred to a zode. The dials of their clocks are marked with four concentric 
circles; between the inner circle and the next outer one the Zodes are marked 
from one to ten; in the next circle, the xats are marked from one to fifty 
between each two zodes; and in the outer circle two hundred tals are marked 
between the radii which pass through the zode numbers and extend to the outer 
periphery of the dial. Their clock has three different colored and different 
length hands, one indicating the zode, the second one the xat, and the longest 
one the tal.
(Editor's note: I have before me the diagram of the dial of a Martian clock 
drawn for me by John Carter many years ago.)
I had no difficulty in finding the courtyard in which I had been confined; and 
when I reached it I whistled, and Ptor Fak answered. I dropped down into it and 
whistled again, and when Ptor Fak answered I groped around until I bumped into 
him.
"How well you look," he said, and we both laughed. "It took you much longer to 
dispose of Motus than I had anticipated," he continued.
"I had to drag it out so that I would be sure to be invisible when I had 
returned here," I explained.
"And now what?" asked Ptor Fak.
I found his head and placed my lips close to one of his ears. "After Rojas 
comes," I whispered, "we'll cross the roof to the quarters of the slave women 
and get Llana of Gathol. In the meantime, you climb this tree which overhangs 
the roof and wait for us up there."
"Whistle when you come up," he said, and left me.
Invisibility I discovered was most disconcerting; I could see no part of my 
body; I was only a voice without visible substance – a voice standing in an 
apparently deserted courtyard which might be filled with enemies, as far as I 
knew. I couldn't even have heard them had there been any there, for the Invaks 
have taken the precaution of covering all the metal parts of their accouterments 
so that there is not the usual clank of metal upon metal when they move about.
Knowing as I did that a search for me must have been instituted, I felt positive 
that there must be Invak warriors in the courtyard, notwithstanding the fact 
that I neither heard nor saw anyone.
As I waited for Rojas, I took the precaution of not moving about lest I 
inadvertently bump into someone who might require me to identify myself; but I 
could not prevent someone from bumping into me, and that is exactly what 
happened. Hands were laid upon me and a gruff voice demanded, "Who are you?"
Here was a pretty kettle of fish. What was I to do? I doubted that I could pass 
myself off as an Invak – I knew too little about them to do that successfully; 
so, I did the next best thing that occurred to me.
"I am the ghost of Motus," I said, in a sepulchral voice. "I am searching for 
the man who killed me, but he is not here."
The hands relinquished their hold upon me; I could almost feel the fellow shrink 
away from me, and then another voice said, "Ghost of Motus nothing – I recognize 
that voice – it is the voice of the slave who killed Motus. Seize him!"
I jumped to one side but I jumped into the arms of another voice, and it seized 
me. "I have him!" cried the voice. "How did you achieve the secrets of 
invisibility, slave?"
With my left hand I groped for the hilt of the fellow's sword; and when I found 
it, I said, "You have made a mistake," and drove his sword through the heart of 
the voice.
There was a single piercing scream, and I was free. Holding my sword point 
breast high, I turned and ran for the tree by which Ptor Fak had mounted to the 
roof. One of my shoulders brushed a body, but I reached the tree in safety.
As I climbed carefully to a lower branch so as not to reveal my presence by the 
shaking of the foliage, I heard a low whistle. It was Rojas.
"Who whistled?" demanded a voice somewhere in the courtyard. There was no reply.
Rojas could not have come at a worse time; I did not answer her; I did not know 
what to do, but Ptor Fak evidently thought that he did, for he answered the 
whistle. He must have thought that it was I who was signalling to him.
"They're on the roof!" cried a voice. "Quick! up that tree!"
Now the only tree that overhung the roof was the one that I was in, and if I 
remained there I was sure to be discovered. There was only one thing for me to 
do and that was to go up on the roof myself, and I did so as quickly as I could.
I hadn't taken half a dozen steps after I arrived, before I bumped into someone. 
"Zodanga?" I whispered. I didn't wish to speak Ptor Fak's name, but I knew that 
he would understand if I spoke the name of the country from which he came.
"Yes," he replied.
"Find the flier and stay near it until I come." He pressed my arm to show that 
he understood, and was gone.
I could see the tree up which I had come shaking violently; so I knew that a 
number of warriors were climbing up in pursuit of me, though how in the world 
they expected to find me, I don't know.
It was a most amazing situation; there must have been at least a dozen men on 
the roof and possibly still others down in the courtyard where I knew Rojas to 
be, yet both the roof and the courtyard were apparently deserted – neither the 
eye nor the ear could perceive any living thing; only when someone spoke was the 
illusion dispelled, and presently I heard a voice a short distance away. "He has 
probably gone this way – the city wall lies nearest in this direction. Spread 
out and comb the roof right to the city wall."
"It's a waste of time," said another voice. "If someone has given him the secret 
of invisibility, we can never find him."
"I do not think it was he, anyway," said a third voice; "there is no way in 
which he could have become invisible – it was unquestionably the ghost of Motus 
that spoke."
By this time the voices were dwindling in the distance, and I felt that it was 
safe to assume that all the warriors had gone in search of me; so I walked to 
the edge of the roof and jumped down into the courtyard. I stood there a moment 
concentrating all my mental powers in an endeavor to sense the presence of 
others near me, as Kandus had said that he was able to do, but I got no 
reaction. This might mean either that I failed to sense the presence of others 
or that there was no one there – at least near me; so I took the chance and 
whistled again. An answer came from the other side of the courtyard; I waited. 
Presently I heard a low whistle much nearer, and I replied – a moment later 
Rojas' hand touched mine.
I did not speak again for fear of attracting other pursuers, but I led her to 
the tree and helped her to clamber to the roof.
"Where is my flier?" I whispered.
She took me by the arm and led me in a direction at right angles to that which 
my pursuers had taken. The outlook appeared brighter immediately.
Rojas and I walked hand in hand so as not to lose one another. Presently I saw 
my flier standing there in the light of the farther moon, and it certainly 
looked good to me.
"The quarters of the slave women are near by, are they not?" I asked in a 
whisper.
"Right there," she said, and I suppose she pointed; then she led me to the edge 
of the roof overlooking a courtyard.
12
Rojas and I stood hand in hand at the edge of the roof looking down into a 
seemingly deserted courtyard. "You gave Llana of Gathol the invisibility 
sphere?" I asked.
"Yes," replied Rojas, "and she must be invisible by this time." She pressed my 
hand. "You fought magnificently," she whispered. "Everyone knew that you could 
have killed Motus whenever you wished; but only I guessed why you did not kill 
him sooner. Ptantus is furious; he has ordered that you be destroyed 
immediately."
"Rojas," I said, "don't you think that you should reconsider your decision to 
come with me? All of your friends and relatives are here in Invak, and you might 
be lonesome and unhappy among my people."
"Wherever you are, I shall be happy," she said. "If you do not take me with you 
I shall kill myself."
So that was that. I had involved myself in a triangle which bid fair to prove 
exceedingly embarrassing and perhaps tragic. I felt sorry for Rojas, and I was 
annoyed and humiliated by the part that I was forced to play. However, there had 
been no other way; it had been a question of Rojas' happiness or of Llana's 
life, and the lives of Ptor Fak and myself. I knew that I had chosen wisely, but 
I was still most unhappy.
Motivated by the habits of a lifetime, I strained my eyes in search of Llana of 
Gathol, who perhaps was down there somewhere in the courtyard; and then, 
realizing the futility of looking for her, I whistled. There was an immediate 
response from below and I sprang down from the roof. It did not take us long to 
locate one another; and as we were not challenged, I assumed that we were 
fortunate enough to be alone.
Llana touched my hand. "I thought that you would never come," she said. "Rojas 
told me about the duel that you were to fight; and while I had no doubts about 
your swordsmanship, I realized that there is always the danger of an accident or 
trickery. But at last you are here; how strange it is not to be able to see you. 
I was really quite frightened when I stepped out here into the courtyard and 
discovered that I could not even see myself."
"It is the miracle of invisibility that will save us," I said, "And only a 
miracle could have saved us. Now I must get you to the roof."
There was no overhanging tree in this courtyard, and the roof was fifteen feet 
above the ground. "You are about to have an experience, Llana," I said.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I am going to toss you up onto the roof," I told her, "and I hope you land on 
your feet."
"I am ready," she said.
I could see the roof all right, but I couldn't see Llana; all I could do was 
pray that my aim would be true. "Keep your whole body perfectly rigid," I said, 
"until I release you; then draw your feet up beneath you and relax. You may get 
a bad fall, but I don't think that it can hurt you much; the roof is heavily 
padded with vines."
"Let's get it over," said Llana.
I grasped one of her legs at the knee with my right hand and cradled her body on 
my left forearm; then I swung her back and forth a couple of times, and tossed 
her high into the air.
Llana of Gathol may have been invisible, but she was also definitely corporeal. 
I heard her land on the roof with anything but an invisible thud, and I breathed 
a sigh of relief. To spring lightly after her was nothing for my earthly 
muscles, and soon a low whistle brought the three of us together. I cautioned 
the girls to silence, and we walked hand in hand in the direction of the flier.
This was the moment that aroused my greatest apprehension, as I realized that 
the flier might be surrounded by invisible warriors; and, as far as I knew, the 
only sword among us was the one I had taken from the warrior I had killed in the 
courtyard; but perhaps Rojas had one.
"Have you a sword, Rojas?" I whispered.
"Yes," she said; "I brought one."
"Can you use it?" I asked.
"I never have used one," she replied.
"Then give it to Llana of Gathol; she can use if it necessary, and very 
effectively too."
We approached to within about a hundred feet of the flier and stopped. This was 
the crucial moment; I was almost afraid to whistle, but I did. There was an 
immediate answer from the vicinity of the flier. I listened a moment for voices 
that might betray the presence of the enemy, but there were none.
We advanced quickly then, and I helped the girls over the rail. "Where are you, 
Ptor Fak?" I asked. "Are you alone?"
"On deck," he said, "and I don't think there is anyone around."
"All the warriors of Invak could be here now," I said, as I reached the controls 
and started the motor.
A moment later the little ship rose gracefully into the air, and almost 
immediately from below us, we heard shouts and imprecations. The Invaks had seen 
the ship, but too late to prevent our escape. We were safe. We had accomplished 
what a few hours before would have seemed impossible, for then Ptor Fak and I 
were chained to trees and Llana of Gathol was a captive in another part of the 
city.
"We owe Rojas a great debt of gratitude," I said.
"A debt," she replied, "which it will be very easy, and I hope pleasant, for you 
to repay."
I winced at that; I saw a bad time ahead for me. I would rather face a dozen men 
with my sword than one infuriated or heartbroken woman. Before we reached 
Helium, I would have to tell her; but I decided to wait until we had regained 
visibility.
Perhaps it would have been easier to tell her while we were both invisible, but 
it seemed a cowardly way to me.
"You are going on to Helium, John Carter?" asked Llana.
"Yes," I said.
"What will they think of a flier coming in by itself with no one on board?" she 
asked.
"We will have to wait until we become visible before we approach the city," I 
replied. "We must not take any more of the invisibility spheres."
"Who is John Carter?" asked Rojas. "Is there another here of whom I did not 
know?"
"I am John Carter," I replied. "Dotar Sojat is merely a name that I assumed 
temporarily."
"Then you are not the Sultan of Swat?" demanded Rojas.
"No," I replied, "I am not."
"You have deceived me."
"I am sorry, Rojas," I said; "I was not trying to deceive you – about my name; 
as a matter of fact I never told you I was the Sultan of Swat; I told some 
warrior who questioned me." If she were angry about my deceiving her concerning 
my name and status, how was she going to take the fact that I did not love her, 
and that I already had a mate! I was as unhappy as a live eel in a frying pan; 
then of a sudden I decided to take the bull by the horns and get the whole thing 
over with. "Rojas," I began, "though I did not deceive you about my name, I did 
deceive you in a much more important matter."
"What is that?" she asked.
"I used your – ah – friendship to gain freedom for Llana of Gathol. I pretended 
to love you when I did not; I already have a mate."
I waited for the explosion, but no explosion came; instead there was a faint, 
tinkling, little laugh. I continued to wait; no one spoke; the silence became 
oppressive. Momentarily I expected a dagger to be slipped into me; or that Rojas 
would leap overboard; but neither of these things occurred, and I sat there at 
the controls wondering about that laugh. Perhaps the shock of my avowal had 
unbalanced Rojas' mind. I wished that I could see her, and at the same time I 
was glad that I could not – and I was certainly glad that no one could see me, 
for I felt like a fool.
I couldn't think of anything to say, and I thought the silence was going to last 
forever, but finally Llana of Gathol broke it. "How long will we remain 
invisible?" she asked.
"A little more than ten zodes from the time you took the sphere," said Rojas. "I 
shall become visible first, and then probably either John Carter or Ptor Fak, as 
I imagine that they took the spheres about the same time; you will be the last 
to regain visibility." Her voice was perfectly normal; there was no trace of 
nervousness nor bitterness in it. I couldn't make the girl out.
Perhaps she was the type that would bide its time until it could wreak some 
terrible revenge. I'll tell you that I had plenty to think about on that trip to 
Helium.
13
Shortly after dawn, I saw a most amazing phenomenon – I saw just a suggestion of 
the outline of a shadowy form beside me; it took shape slowly: Rojas was 
materializing! The effects of the invisibility compound were disappearing, and 
as they disappeared Rojas appeared. There she sat gazing out across the Martian 
landscape, the shadow of a happy smile upon her lips; somehow she reminded me of 
a cat which had just swallowed a canary.
"Kaor!" I said, which is the Barsoomian equivalent of Good Morning, Hello, or 
How do you do? – in other words, it is a Barsoomian greeting.
Rojas looked in my direction but of course she could not see me.
"Kaor," she replied, smiling. "You must be very tired, John Carter; you have had 
no sleep all night."
"When Llana of Gathol awakens, I shall sleep," I replied; "she can handle the 
controls quite as well as I."
"I have never been beyond the forests of Invak before," said Rojas. "What a 
drab, lonely world this is."
"You will find the twin cities of Helium very beautiful," I said. "I hope that 
you will like it there, Rojas."
"I am sure that I shall," she said; "I am looking forward to being in Helium 
with you, John Carter."
I wondered what she meant by that. The girl was an enigma; and I gave up trying 
to find a solution for her, and when Llana of Gathol spoke a moment later, and I 
knew that she was awake, I asked her to take the controls.
"We will cruise around outside of Helium," I said, "until we have all regained 
visibility," and then I lay down and fell asleep.
It was late that night before we had all regained visibility, and the next 
morning I approached Helium. A patrol boat came up to meet us, and recognizing 
my flier, it came alongside. The officer in command, and, in fact, the whole 
crew were overjoyed to see both Llana of Gathol and myself, alive and safe. The 
patrol boat escorted us to the hangar on the roof of my palace, where we 
received a tremendous welcome, as we had both been given up for dead long since.
Ptor Fak, Llana, and Rojas were behind me when I took Dejah Thoris in my arms; 
then I turned and presented Rojas and Ptor Fak to her.
"Had it not been for Rojas," I told Dejah Thoris, "none of us would have been 
here," and then I told her very briefly of our capture and incarceration in 
Invak.
I watched Rojas very closely as Dejah Thoris took both her hands in hers and 
kissed her on the forehead; and then, to my surprise, Rojas threw her arms about 
her and kissed her squarely on the mouth; the girl was absolutely bewildering.
After we had all breakfasted together Dejah Thoris asked me what my plans were 
now. "I shall see Tardos Mors immediately," I replied, "and after I have 
arranged for the dispatch of a fleet for Gathol, I shall fly there myself, 
alone, to reconnoiter."
"Why alone?" demanded Dejah Thoris; "But why should I ask? It has always been 
your way to do things alone."
I saw Tardos Mors and made the necessary arrangements for the dispatch of a 
fleet to Gathol; and then I returned to my palace to bid Dejah Thoris good-bye; 
and as I passed through the garden, I saw Rojas sitting there alone.
"Come here a moment, John Carter," she said; "I have something to say to you."
Here it comes, I thought; well, it would have to be gotten over sooner or later, 
and it would be a relief to get it over at once.
"You deceived me, John Carter," she said.
"I know I did," I replied.
"I am so glad that you did," she said, "for I deceived you. I admired you, John 
Carter, tremendously; but I never loved you. I knew that you had come to Invak 
in a flier; and I knew that if you could be helped to escape in it, you might be 
persuaded to take me with you. I hate Invak; I was most unhappy there; I would 
have sold my very soul to have escaped, and so I tried to make you love me so 
that you would take me away. I thought I had succeeded, and I was very much 
ashamed of myself. You can never know how relieved I was when I found that I had 
failed, for I admired you too much to wish to bring unhappiness to you."
"But why did you pretend to be so jealous of Llana of Gathol?" I asked.
"To make my love seem more realistic," she said.
"You have lifted a great weight from my conscience, Rojas. I hope that you will 
like it here and that you will be very happy."
"I shall love it," she said, "for I already love Dejah Thoris, and she has asked 
me to stay here with her."
"Now I know that you will be happy here," I told her.
"I am sure of it, John Carter – I have seen some very handsome men already, and 
they can't all have mates."
The flight to Gathol was uneventful. I had taken an invisibility sphere some 
time before leaving Helium, and before I reached Gathol I had completely 
disappeared.
As I approached the city, I could see Hin Abtol's army drawn up around it; there 
were many more than there had been when I escaped in the Dusar; and on the line 
from which I had stolen the ship were at least a hundred more fliers, many of 
them large fighting ships, with some transports.
Presently several patrol boats rose to meet me. I was flying no colors, and when 
they hailed me I made no response. A couple of them ranged alongside me, and I 
could hear the exclamations of astonishment when they discovered that there was 
no one aboard the ship and no pilot at the controls.
I think they were rather frightened, for no one attempted to board me; and they 
let me fly on without interfering.
I dropped down to the Panar line, and set my flier down beside the last ship in 
it. One of the patrol ships landed also, and was soon surrounded by a crowd of 
officers and warriors, who approached my ship with every sign of curiosity 
written on their faces.
"This ship is piloted by Death," I said in a loud voice; "it is death to 
approach too close or to try to board it."
The men stopped then, and most of them fell back. I dropped to the ground and 
wandered about at will, my purpose being to gather what information I could from 
conversations among the officers. These men, however, were so interested in my 
ship that I gained no information from them; and so I wandered away and walked 
down the line to the flagship, which I boarded, passing the sentry at the foot 
of the ladder and the watch on deck. It seemed strange to walk there among the 
enemy, unseen; all that I had to do was to avoid contact with any of them, and I 
was safe from detection.
I went to the cabin of the commander of the fleet. He was sitting there with 
several high ranking officers, to whom he was giving instructions.
"As soon as Hin Abtol arrives from Pankor," he was saying, "we are to take up 
several thousand men equipped with equilibrimotors and drop them directly into 
the city; and then, with Gathol as a base, we shall move on Helium with fully a 
million men."
"When will Hin Abtol arrive?" asked one of the officers.
"Tonight or tomorrow morning," replied the commander. "He is coming with a large 
fleet."
Well, at last I had learned something; and my plans were formulated instantly. I 
left the flagship and returned to my flier, which was being examined by a 
considerable number of officers and men, but from a safe distance.
I had difficulty in finding an opening through which I could pass without 
touching any of them; but at last I succeeded, and I was soon at the controls of 
my flier.
As it rose from the ground apparently without human guidance, exclamations of 
awe and astonishment followed it. "It is Death," I heard a man cry; "Death is at 
the controls."
I circled low above them. "Yes, it is Death at the controls," I called down to 
them; "Death, who has come to take all who attack Gathol;" then I zoomed swiftly 
aloft and turned the nose of my ship toward Pankor.
I only went far enough from Gathol to be out of sight of Hin Abtol's forces; and 
then I flew in wide circles at considerable altitudes, waiting for Hin Abtol's 
fleet.
At long last I saw it in the distance. With it was the man who, with the 
enormous number of his conscripts, would surely take Gathol and sack it, were he 
not stopped.
I spotted Hin Abtol's flagship immediately and dropped down alongside it. My 
little flier evoked no alarm, as it would have been helpless in the midst of 
this great fleet; but when those aboard the flagship saw that the flier was 
maneuvering without human control, their curiosity knew no bounds, and they 
crowded to the rail to have a better look.
I circled the ship, drawing nearer and nearer. I could see Hin Abtol on the 
bridge with a number of officers, and I saw that they were as much intrigued as 
were the warriors on deck.
Hin Abtol was leaning far out over the rail to have a better look at me; I moved 
in closer; the side of the flier touched the bridge lightly.
Hin Abtol was peering down at the deck and into the little control room. "'There 
is no one aboard this ship," he said; "some one had discovered the means of 
flying it by remote control."
I had set the wheel to hold the flier tightly against the bridge; then I sprang 
across the deck, seized Hin Abtol by his harness, and dragged him over the rail 
onto the deck of the flier. An instant later still holding Hin Abtol, I was at 
the controls; the flier nosed down and dove beneath the flagship at full speed. 
I heard shouts of astonishment mingled with cries of rage and fear.
A number of small craft took after me; but I knew that they could not overtake 
me, and that they would not dare fire on me for fear of killing Hin Abtol.
Hin Abtol lay trembling at my side, almost paralyzed with terror. "What are 
you?" he finally managed to stammer. "What are you going to do with me?"
I did not reply; I thought that that would terrify him the more; and I know that 
it did, for after a while he implored me to speak.
We flew back, high over Gathol, which was now safe from attack. Early the next 
morning I saw a great fleet coming out of the southeast – it was the fleet from 
Helium that Tardos Mors was bringing to relieve Gathol.
As I was approaching it, the effects of the invisibility sphere diminished 
rapidly; and I materialized before the astounded gaze of Hin Abtol.
"Who are you? What are you?" he demanded.
"I am the man whose flier you stole at Horz," I replied. "I am the man who took 
it from beneath your nose in Pankor, and with it Llana of Gathol – I am John 
Carter, Prince of Helium; have you ever heard of me?"
Nearing the fleet, I broke out my colors – the colors of the Prince of Helium; 
and a great cheer rose from the deck of every ship that could distinguish them.
The rest is history now – how Helium's great fleet destroyed Hin Abtol's fleet, 
and the army of Helium routed the forces which had for so long invested Gathol.
When the brief war was over, we set free nearly a million of the frozen men of 
Panar; and I returned to Helium and Dejah Thoris, from whom I hope never to be 
separated again.
I had brought with me Jad-han and Pan Dan Chee, whom we had found among the 
prisoners of the Panars; and though I was not present at the meeting between Pan 
Dan Chee and Llana of Gathol, Dejah Thoris has assured me that the dangers and 
vicissitudes he had suffered for love of the fair Gatholian had not been in 
vain.

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