My first impulse was to tell her of my love, and then Ithought of the helplessness of her position wherein I alonecould lighten the burdens of her captivity, and protect her inmy poor way against the thousands of hereditary enemiesshe must face upon our arrival at Thark. I could not chancecausing her additional pain or sorrow by declaring a lovewhich, in all probability she did not return. Should I be soindiscreet, her position would be even more unbearable thannow, and the thought that she might feel that I was takingadvantage of her helplessness, to influence her decision wasthe final argument which sealed my lips.

"Why are you so quiet, Dejah Thoris?" I asked. "Possiblyyou would rather return to Sola and your quarters."

"No," she murmured, "I am happy here. I do not knowwhy it is that I should always be happy and contentedwhen you, John Carter, a stranger, are with me; yet at suchtimes it seems that I am safe and that, with you, I shall soonreturn to my father's court and feel his strong arms about meand my mother's tears and kisses on my cheek."

"Do people kiss, then, upon Barsoom?" I asked, when shehad explained the word she used, in answer to my inquiry asto its meaning.

"Parents, brothers, and sisters, yes; and," she added in alow, thoughtful tone, "lovers."

"And you, Dejah Thoris, have parents and brothers andsisters?"

"Yes."

"And a--lover?"

She was silent, nor could I venture to repeat the question.

"The man of Barsoom," she finally ventured, "does notask personal questions of women, except his mother, and thewoman he has fought for and won."

"But I have fought--" I started, and then I wished mytongue had been cut from my mouth; for she turned even asI caught myself and ceased, and drawing my silks from hershoulder she held them out to me, and without a word, andwith head held high, she moved with the carriage of thequeen she was toward the plaza and the doorway of herquarters.

I did not attempt to follow her, other than to see that shereached the building in safety, but, directing Woola toaccompany her, I turned disconsolately and entered my own house.I sat for hours cross-legged, and cross-tempered, upon my silksmeditating upon the queer freaks chance plays upon us poordevils of mortals.

So this was love! I had escaped it for all the years I hadroamed the five continents and their encircling seas; in spiteof beautiful women and urging opportunity; in spite of a half-desire for love and a constant search for my ideal, it hadremained for me to fall furiously and hopelessly in love with acreature from another world, of a species similar possibly,yet not identical with mine. A woman who was hatched froman egg, and whose span of life might cover a thousand years;whose people had strange customs and ideas; a woman whosehopes, whose pleasures, whose standards of virtue and ofright and wrong might vary as greatly from mine as did thoseof the green Martians.

Yes, I was a fool, but I was in love, and though I wassuffering the greatest misery I had ever known I would nothave had it otherwise for all the riches of Barsoom. Such islove, and such are lovers wherever love is known.

To me, Dejah Thoris was all that was perfect; all that wasvirtuous and beautiful and noble and good. I believed thatfrom the bottom of my heart, from the depth of my soul onthat night in Korad as I sat cross-legged upon my silks whilethe nearer moon of Barsoom raced through the western skytoward the horizon, and lighted up the gold and marble, andjeweled mosaics of my world-old chamber, and I believe ittoday as I sit at my desk in the little study overlooking theHudson. Twenty years have intervened; for ten of them Ilived and fought for Dejah Thoris and her people, and forten I have lived upon her memory.

The morning of our departure for Thark dawned clearand hot, as do all Martian mornings except for the six weekswhen the snow melts at the poles.

I sought out Dejah Thoris in the throng of departing chariots,but she turned her shoulder to me, and I could see the red bloodmount to her cheek. With the foolish inconsistencyof love I held my peace when I might have plead ignoranceof the nature of my offense, or at least the gravity of it,and so have effected, at worst, a half conciliation.

My duty dictated that I must see that she was comfortable,and so I glanced into her chariot and rearranged her silksand furs. In doing so I noted with horror that she washeavily chained by one ankle to the side of the vehicle.

"What does this mean?" I cried, turning to Sola.

"Sarkoja thought it best," she answered, her face betokeningher disapproval of the procedure.

Examining the manacles I saw that they fastened with amassive spring lock.

"Where is the key, Sola? Let me have it."

"Sarkoja wears it, John Carter," she answered.

I turned without further word and sought out Tars Tarkas,to whom I vehemently objected to the unnecessary humiliationsand cruelties, as they seemed to my lover's eyes, that werebeing heaped upon Dejah Thoris.

"John Carter," he answered, "if ever you and Dejah Thorisescape the Tharks it will be upon this journey. We know thatyou will not go without her. You have shown yourself amighty fighter, and we do not wish to manacle you, so wehold you both in the easiest way that will yet ensure security.I have spoken."

I saw the strength of his reasoning at a flash, and knewthat it were futile to appeal from his decision, but I askedthat the key be taken from Sarkoja and that she be directedto leave the prisoner alone in future.

"This much, Tars Tarkas, you may do for me in return forthe friendship that, I must confess, I feel for you."

"Friendship?" he replied. "There is no such thing, JohnCarter; but have your will. I shall direct that Sarkoja ceaseto annoy the girl, and I myself will take the custody of thekey."

"Unless you wish me to assume the responsibility," I said,smiling.

He looked at me long and earnestly before he spoke.

"Were you to give me your word that neither you norDejah Thoris would attempt to escape until after we havesafely reached the court of Tal Hajus you might have thekey and throw the chains into the river Iss."

"It were better that you held the key, Tars Tarkas," I replied

He smiled, and said no more, but that night as we weremaking camp I saw him unfasten Dejah Thoris' fetters himself.

With all his cruel ferocity and coldness there was anundercurrent of something in Tars Tarkas which he seemedever battling to subdue. Could it be a vestige of some humaninstinct come back from an ancient forbear to haunt himwith the horror of his people's ways!

As I was approaching Dejah Thoris' chariot I passed Sarkoja,and the black, venomous look she accorded me was the sweetestbalm I had felt for many hours. Lord, how she hated me!It bristled from her so palpably that one might almosthave cut it with a sword.

A few moments later I saw her deep in conversation witha warrior named Zad; a big, hulking, powerful brute, butone who had never made a kill among his own chieftains, anda second name only with the metal of some chieftain. It wasthis custom which entitled me to the names of either of thechieftains I had killed; in fact, some of the warriorsaddressed me as Dotar Sojat, a combination of the surnamesof the two warrior chieftains whose metal I had taken, or, inother words, whom I had slain in fair fight.

As Sarkoja talked with Zad he cast occasional glances inmy direction, while she seemed to be urging him very stronglyto some action. I paid little attention to it at the time, butthe next day I had good reason to recall the circumstances,and at the same time gain a slight insight into the depths ofSarkoja's hatred and the lengths to which she was capable ofgoing to wreak her horrid vengeance on me.

Dejah Thoris would have none of me again on this evening,and though I spoke her name she neither replied, nor concededby so much as the flutter of an eyelid that she realizedmy existence. In my extremity I did what most other loverswould have done; I sought word from her through an intimate.In this instance it was Sola whom I intercepted in anotherpart of camp.

"What is the matter with Dejah Thoris?" I blurted out at her."Why will she not speak to me?"

Sola seemed puzzled herself, as though such strange actionson the part of two humans were quite beyond her, as indeedthey were, poor child.

"She says you have angered her, and that is all she willsay, except that she is the daughter of a jed and the grand-daughter of a jeddak and she has been humiliated by acreature who could not polish the teeth of her grandmother'ssorak."

I pondered over this report for some time, finally asking,"What might a sorak be, Sola?"

"A little animal about as big as my hand, which the redMartian women keep to play with," explained Sola.

Not fit to polish the teeth of her grandmother's cat! I mustrank pretty low in the consideration of Dejah Thoris, Ithought; but I could not help laughing at the strange figureof speech, so homely and in this respect so earthly. It mademe homesick, for it sounded very much like "not fit to polishher shoes." And then commenced a train of thought quitenew to me. I began to wonder what my people at home were doing.I had not seen them for years. There was a family ofCarters in Virginia who claimed close relationship with me;I was supposed to be a great uncle, or something of thekind equally foolish. I could pass anywhere for twenty-fiveto thirty years of age, and to be a great uncle always seemedthe height of incongruity, for my thoughts and feelings werethose of a boy. There was two little kiddies in the Carterfamily whom I had loved and who had thought there wasno one on Earth like Uncle Jack; I could see them just asplainly, as I stood there under the moonlit skies of Barsoom,and I longed for them as I had never longed for any mortalsbefore. By nature a wanderer, I had never known thetrue meaning of the word home, but the great hall of theCarters had always stood for all that the word did mean tome, and now my heart turned toward it from the cold andunfriendly peoples I had been thrown amongst. For did noteven Dejah Thoris despise me! I was a low creature, so lowin fact that I was not even fit to polish the teeth of hergrandmother's cat; and then my saving sense of humor cameto my rescue, and laughing I turned into my silks and fursand slept upon the moon-haunted ground the sleep of a tiredand healthy fighting man.

We broke camp the next day at an early hour and marchedwith only a single halt until just before dark. Two incidentsbroke the tediousness of the march. About noon we espiedfar to our right what was evidently an incubator, and LorquasPtomel directed Tars Tarkas to investigate it. The lattertook a dozen warriors, including myself, and we raced acrossthe velvety carpeting of moss to the little enclosure.

It was indeed an incubator, but the eggs were very smallin comparison with those I had seen hatching in ours at thetime of my arrival on Mars.

Tars Tarkas dismounted and examined the enclosure minutely,finally announcing that it belonged to the green menof Warhoon and that the cement was scarcely dry where ithad been walled up.

"They cannot be a day's march ahead of us," he exclaimed,the light of battle leaping to his fierce face.

The work at the incubator was short indeed. The warriorstore open the entrance and a couple of them, crawlingin, soon demolished all the eggs with their short-swords.Then remounting we dashed back to join the cavalcade.During the ride I took occasion to ask Tars Tarkas if theseWarhoons whose eggs we had destroyed were a smaller peoplethan his Tharks.

"I noticed that their eggs were so much smaller than thoseI saw hatching in your incubator," I added.

He explained that the eggs had just been placed there; but,like all green Martian eggs, they would grow during thefive-year period of incubation until they obtained the size ofthose I had seen hatching on the day of my arrival on Barsoom.This was indeed an interesting piece of information,for it had always seemed remarkable to me that the greenMartian women, large as they were, could bring forth suchenormous eggs as I had seen the four-foot infants emergingfrom. As a matter of fact, the new-laid egg is but little largerthan an ordinary goose egg, and as it does not commence togrow until subjected to the light of the sun the chieftainshave little difficulty in transporting several hundreds of themat one time from the storage vaults to the incubators.

Shortly after the incident of the Warhoon eggs we haltedto rest the animals, and it was during this halt that thesecond of the day's interesting episodes occurred. I wasengaged in changing my riding cloths from one of my thoatsto the other, for I divided the day's work between them,when Zad approached me, and without a word struck myanimal a terrific blow with his long-sword.

I did not need a manual of green Martian etiquette to knowwhat reply to make, for, in fact, I was so wild with angerthat I could scarcely refrain from drawing my pistol andshooting him down for the brute he was; but he stood waitingwith drawn long-sword, and my only choice was to draw my ownand meet him in fair fight with his choice of weapons ora lesser one.

This latter alternative is always permissible, therefore Icould have used my short-sword, my dagger, my hatchet, ormy fists had I wished, and been entirely within my rights,but I could not use firearms or a spear while he held onlyhis long-sword.

I chose the same weapon he had drawn because I knew heprided himself upon his ability with it, and I wished, if Iworsted him at all, to do it with his own weapon. The fightthat followed was a long one and delayed the resumption ofthe march for an hour. The entire community surroundedus, leaving a clear space about one hundred feet in diameterfor our battle.

Zad first attempted to rush me down as a bull might awolf, but I was much too quick for him, and each time Iside-stepped his rushes he would go lunging past me, onlyto receive a nick from my sword upon his arm or back. Hewas soon streaming blood from a half dozen minor wounds,but I could not obtain an opening to deliver an effectivethrust. Then he changed his tactics, and fighting warily andwith extreme dexterity, he tried to do by science what hewas unable to do by brute strength. I must admit that he wasa magnificent swordsman, and had it not been for my greaterendurance and the remarkable agility the lesser gravitationof Mars lent me I might not have been able to put up thecreditable fight I did against him.

We circled for some time without doing much damage oneither side; the long, straight, needle-like swords flashing inthe sunlight, and ringing out upon the stillness as theycrashed together with each effective parry. Finally Zad,realizing that he was tiring more than I, evidently decided toclose in and end the battle in a final blaze of glory for himself;just as he rushed me a blinding flash of light struck fullin my eyes, so that I could not see his approach and couldonly leap blindly to one side in an effort to escape themighty blade that it seemed I could already feel in my vitals.I was only partially successful, as a sharp pain in my leftshoulder attested, but in the sweep of my glance as I soughtto again locate my adversary, a sight met my astonishedgaze which paid me well for the wound the temporary blindnesshad caused me. There, upon Dejah Thoris' chariotstood three figures, for the purpose evidently of witnessingthe encounter above the heads of the intervening Tharks.There were Dejah Thoris, Sola, and Sarkoja, and as myfleeting glance swept over them a little tableau was presentedwhich will stand graven in my memory to the day of my death.

As I looked, Dejah Thoris turned upon Sarkoja with thefury of a young tigress and struck something from herupraised hand; something which flashed in the sunlight asit spun to the ground. Then I knew what had blinded me atthat crucial moment of the fight, and how Sarkoja had founda way to kill me without herself delivering the final thrust.Another thing I saw, too, which almost lost my life for methen and there, for it took my mind for the fraction of aninstant entirely from my antagonist; for, as Dejah Thorisstruck the tiny mirror from her hand, Sarkoja, her face lividwith hatred and baffled rage, whipped out her dagger andaimed a terrific blow at Dejah Thoris; and then Sola, our dearand faithful Sola, sprang between them; the last I saw wasthe great knife descending upon her shielding breast.

My enemy had recovered from his thrust and was making itextremely interesting for me, so I reluctantly gave myattention to the work in hand, but my mind was not upon thebattle.

We rushed each other furiously time after time, 'til suddenly,feeling the sharp point of his sword at my breast in a thrustI could neither parry nor escape, I threw myself upon himwith outstretched sword and with all the weight of mybody, determined that I would not die alone if I couldprevent it. I felt the steel tear into my chest, all wentblack before me, my head whirled in dizziness, and I felt myknees giving beneath me.