Produced by an anonymous Project Volunteer.








EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS




THE
MOON MAID




THE MOON MAID


Copyright 1923, by Frank A. Munsey Company
New York




PROLOGUE


I met him in the Blue Room of the Transoceanic Liner _Harding_ the
night of Mars Day—June 10, 1967. I had been wandering about the city
for several hours prior to the sailing of the flier watching the
celebration, dropping in at various places that I might see as much
as possible of scenes that doubtless will never again be paralleled—a
world gone mad with joy. There was only one vacant chair in the Blue
Room and that at a small table at which he was already seated alone.
I asked his permission and he graciously invited me to join him,
rising as he did so, his face lighting with a smile that compelled my
liking from the first.

I had thought that Victory Day, which we had celebrated two months
before, could never be eclipsed in point of mad national enthusiasm,
but the announcement that had been made this day appeared to have had
even a greater effect upon the minds and imaginations of the people.

The more than half-century of war that had continued almost
uninterruptedly since 1914 had at last terminated in the absolute
domination of the Anglo-Saxon race over all the other races of the
World, and practically for the first time since the activities of the
human race were preserved for posterity in any enduring form no
civilized, or even semicivilized, nation maintained a battle line
upon any portion of the globe. War was at an end—definitely and
forever. Arms and ammunition were being dumped into the five oceans;
the vast armadas of the air were being scrapped or converted into
carriers for purposes of peace and commerce.

The peoples of all nations had celebrated—victors and vanquished
alike—for they were tired of war. At least they thought that they
were tired of war; but were they? What else did they know? Only the
oldest of men could recall even a semblance of world peace, the
others knew nothing but war. Men had been born and lived their lives
and died with their grandchildren clustered about them—all with the
alarms of war ringing constantly in their ears. Perchance the little
area of their activities was never actually encroached upon by the
iron-shod hoof of battle; but always somewhere war endured, now
receding like the salt tide only to return again; until there arose
that great tidal wave of human emotion in 1959 that swept the entire
world for eight bloody years, and receding, left peace upon a spent
and devastated world.

Two months had passed—two months during which the world appeared to
stand still, to mark time, to hold its breath. What now? We have
peace, but what shall we do with it? The leaders of thought and of
action are trained for but one condition—war. The reaction brought
despondency—our nerves, accustomed to the constant stimulus of
excitement, cried out against the monotony of peace, and yet no one
wanted war again. We did not know what we wanted.

And then came the announcement that I think saved a world from
madness, for it directed our minds along a new line to the
contemplation of a fact far more engrossing than prosaic wars and
equally as stimulating to the imagination and the nerves—intelligible
communication had at last been established with Mars!

Generations of wars had done their part to stimulate scientific
research to the end that we might kill one another more
expeditiously, that we might transport our youth more quickly to
their shallow graves in alien soil, that we might transmit more
secretly and with greater celerity our orders to slay our fellow men.
And always, generation after generation, there had been those few who
could detach their minds from the contemplation of massacre and
looking forward to a happier era concentrate their talents and their
energies upon the utilization of scientific achievement for the
betterment of mankind and the rebuilding of civilization.

Among these was that much ridiculed but devoted coterie who had clung
tenaciously to the idea that communication could be established with
Mars. The hope that had been growing for a hundred years had never
been permitted to die, but had been transmitted from teacher to pupil
with ever-growing enthusiasm, while the people scoffed as, a hundred
years before, we are told, they scoffed at the experimenters with
_flying machines_, as they chose to call them.

About 1940 had come the first reward of long years of toil and hope,
following the perfection of an instrument which accurately indicated
the direction and distance of the focus of any radio-activity with
which it might be attuned. For several years prior to this all the
more highly sensitive receiving instruments had recorded a series of
three dots and three dashes which began at precise intervals of
twenty-four hours and thirty-seven minutes and continued for
approximately fifteen minutes. The new instrument indicated
conclusively that these signals, if they were signals, originated
always at the same distance from the Earth and in the same direction
as the point in the universe occupied by the planet Mars.

It was five years later before a sending apparatus was evolved that
bade fair to transmit its waves from Earth to Mars. At first their
own message was repeated—three dots and three dashes. Although the
usual interval of time had not elapsed since we had received their
daily signal, ours was immediately answered. Then we sent a message
consisting of five dots and two dashes, alternating. Immediately they
replied with five dots and two dashes and we knew beyond peradventure
of a doubt that we were in communication with the Red Planet, but it
required twenty-two years of unremitting effort, with the most
brilliant intellects of two world concentrated upon it, to evolve and
perfect an intelligent system of inter-communication between the two
planets.

Today, this tenth of June, 1967, there was published broadcast to the
world the first message from Mars. It was dated Helium, Barsoom, and
merely extended greetings to a sister world and wished us well. But
it was the beginning.

The Blue Room of _The Harding_ was, I presume, but typical of every
other gathering place in the civilized world. Men and women were
eating, drinking, laughing, singing and talking. The flier was racing
through the air at an altitude of little over a thousand feet. Its
engines, motivated wirelessly from power plants thousands of miles
distant, drove it noiselessly and swiftly along its overnight pathway
between Chicago and Paris.

I had of course crossed many times, but this instance was unique
because of the epoch-making occasion which the passengers were
celebrating, and so I sat at the table longer than usual, watching my
fellow diners, with, I imagine, a slightly indulgent smile upon my
lips, since—I mention it in no spirit of egotism—it had been my high
privilege to assist in the consummation of a hundred years of effort
that had borne fruit that day. I looked around at my fellow diners
and then back to my table companion.

He was a fine looking chap, lean and bronzed—one need not have noted
the Air Corps overseas service uniform, the Admiral’s stars and
anchors or the wound stripes to have guessed that he was a fighting
man; he looked it, every inch of him, and there were a full seventy-
two inches.

We talked a little—about the great victory and the message from Mars,
of course, and though he often smiled I noticed an occasional shadow
of sadness in his eyes and once, after a particularly mad outburst of
pandemonium on the part of the celebrators, he shook his head,
remarking: “Poor devils!” and then: “It is just as well—let them
enjoy life while they may. I envy them their ignorance.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He flushed a little and then smiled. “Was I speaking aloud?” he
asked.

I repeated what he had said and he looked steadily at me for a long
minute before he spoke again. “Oh, what’s the use!” he exclaimed,
almost petulantly; “you wouldn’t understand and of course you
wouldn’t believe. I do not understand it myself; but I have to
believe because I know—I know from personal observation. God! if you
could have seen what I have seen.”

“Tell me,” I begged; but he shook his head dubiously.

“Do you realize that there is no such thing as Time?” he asked
suddenly—“That man has invented Time to suit the limitations of his
finite mind, just as he has named another thing, that he can neither
explain nor understand, Space?”

“I have heard of such a theory,” I replied; “but I neither believe
nor disbelieve—I simply do not know.”

I thought I had him started and so I waited as I have read in fiction
stories is the proper way to entice a strange narrative from its
possessor. He was looking beyond me and I imagined that the
expression of his eyes denoted that he was witnessing again the
thrilling scenes of the past. I must have been wrong, though—in fact
I was quite sure of it when he next spoke.

“If that girl isn’t careful,” he said, “the thing will upset and give
her a nasty fall—she is much too near the edge.”

I turned to see a richly dressed and much dishevelled young lady
busily dancing on a table-top while her friends and the surrounding
diners cheered her lustily.

My companion arose. “I have enjoyed your company immensely,” he said,
“and I hope to meet you again. I am going to look for a place to
sleep now—they could not give me a stateroom—I don’t seem to be able
to get enough sleep since they sent me back.” He smiled.

“Miss the gas shells and radio bombs, I suppose,” I remarked.

“Yes,” he replied, “just as a convalescent misses smallpox.”

“I have a room with two beds,” I said. “At the last minute my
secretary was taken ill. I’ll be glad to have you share the room with
me.”

He thanked me and accepted my hospitality for the night—the following
morning we would be in Paris.

As we wound our way among the tables filled with laughing, joyous
diners, my companion paused beside that at which sat the young woman
who had previously attracted his attention. Their eyes met and into
hers came a look of puzzlement and half-recognition. He smiled
frankly in her face, nodded and passed on.

“You know her, then?” I asked.

“I shall—in two hundred years,” was his enigmatical reply.

We found my room, and there we had a bottle of wine and some little
cakes and a quiet smoke and became much better acquainted.

It was he who first reverted to the subject of our conversation in
the Blue Room.

“I am going to tell you,” he said, “what I have never told another;
but on the condition that if you retell it you are not to use my
name. I have several years of this life ahead of me and I do not care
to be pointed out as a lunatic. First let me say that I do not try to
explain anything, except that I do not believe prevision to be a
proper explanation. I have actually _lived_ the experiences I shall
tell you of, and that girl we saw dancing on the table tonight lived
them with me; but she does not know it. If you care to, you can keep
in mind the theory that there is no such thing as Time—just keep it
in mind—you cannot understand it, or at least I cannot. Here goes.”




CHAPTER I


AN ADVENTURE IN SPACE


“I had intended telling you my story of the days of the twenty-second
century, but it seems best, if you are to understand it, to tell
first the story of my great-great-grandfather who was born in the
year 2000.”

I must have looked up at him quizzically, for he smiled and shook his
head as one who is puzzled to find an explanation suited to the
mental capacity of his auditor.

“My great-great-grandfather was, in reality, the great-great-grandson
of my previous incarnation which commenced in 1896. I married in
1916, at the age of twenty. My son Julian was born in 1917. I never
saw him. I was killed in France in 1918—on Armistice Day.

“I was again reincarnated in my son’s son in 1937. I am thirty years
of age. My son was born in 1970—that is the son of my 1937
incarnation—and his son, Julian 5th, in whom I again returned to
Earth, in the year 2000. I see you are confused, but please remember
my injunction that you are to try to keep in mind the theory that
there is no such thing as Time. It is now the year 1967 yet I recall
distinctly every event of my life that occurred in four incarnations—
the last that I recall being that which had its origin in the year
2100. Whether I actually skipped three generations that time or
through some caprice of Fate I am merely unable to visualize an
intervening incarnation, I do not know.

“My theory of the matter is that I differ only from my fellows in
that I can recall the events of many incarnations, while they can
recall none of theirs other than a few important episodes of that
particular one they are experiencing; but perhaps I am wrong. It is
of no importance. I will tell you the story of Julian 5th who was
born in the year 2000, and then, if we have time and you yet are
interested, I will tell you of the torments during the harrowing days
of the twenty-second century, following the birth of Julian 9th in
2100.”

I will try to tell the story in his own words in so far as I can
recall them, but for various reasons, not the least of which is that
I am lazy, I shall omit superfluous quotation marks—that is, with
your permission, of course.

    —————

My name is Julian. I am called Julian 5th. I come of an illustrious
family—my great-great-grandfather, Julian 1st, a major at twenty-two,
was killed in France early in The Great War. My great-grandfather,
Julian 2nd, was killed in battle in Turkey in 1938. My grandfather,
Julian 3rd, fought continuously from his sixteenth year until peace
was declared in his thirtieth year. He died in 1992 and during the
last twenty-five years of his life was an Admiral of the Air, being
transferred at the close of the war to command of the International
Peace Fleet, which patrolled and policed the world. He also was
killed in line of duty, as was my father who succeeded him in the
service.

At sixteen I graduated from the Air School and was detailed to the
International Peace Fleet, being the fifth generation of my line to
wear the uniform of my country. That was in 2016, and I recall that
it was a matter of pride to me that it rounded out the full century
since Julian 1st graduated from West Point, and that during that one
hundred years no adult male of my line had ever owned or worn
civilian clothes.

Of course there were no more wars, but there still was fighting. We
had the pirates of the air to contend with and occasionally some of
the uncivilized tribes of Russia, Africa and central Asia required
the attention of a punitive expedition. However, life seemed tame and
monotonous to us when we read of the heroic deeds of our ancestors
from 1914 to 1967, yet none of us wanted war. It had been too well
schooled into us that we must not think of war, and the International
Peace Fleet so effectively prevented all preparation for war that we
all knew there could never be another. There wasn’t a firearm in the
world other than those with which we were armed, and a few of ancient
design that were kept as heirlooms, or in museums, or that were owned
by savage tribes who could procure no ammunition for them, since we
permitted none to be manufactured. There was not a gas shell nor a
radio bomb, nor any engine to discharge or project one; and there
wasn’t a big gun of any calibre in the world. I veritably believed
that a thousand men equipped with the various engines of destruction
that had reached their highest efficiency at the close of the war in
1967 could have conquered the world; but there were not a thousand
men so armed—there never could be a thousand men so equipped anywhere
upon the face of the Earth. The International Peace Fleet was
equipped and manned to prevent just such a calamity.

But it seems that Providence never intended that the world should be
without calamities. If man prevented those of possible internal
origin there still remained undreamed of external sources over which
he had no control. It was one of these which was to prove our
undoing. Its seed was sown thirty-three years before I was born, upon
that historic day, June 10th, 1967, that Earth received her first
message from Mars, since which the two planets have remained in
constant friendly communication, carrying on a commerce of reciprocal
enlightenment. In some branches of the arts and sciences the
Martians, or Barsoomians, as they call themselves, were far in
advance of us, while in others we had progressed more rapidly than
they. Knowledge was thus freely exchanged to the advantage of both
worlds. We learned of their history and customs and they of ours,
though they had for ages already known much more of us than we of
them. Martian news held always a prominent place in our daily papers
from the first.

They helped us most, perhaps, in the fields of medicine and
aeronautics, giving us in one, the marvelous healing lotions of
Barsoom and in the other, knowledge of the Eighth Ray, which is more
generally known on Earth as the Barsoomian Ray, which is now stored
in the buoyancy tanks of every air craft and has made obsolete those
ancient types of plane that depended upon momentum to keep them
afloat.

That we ever were able to communicate intelligibly with them is due
to the presence upon Mars of that deathless Virginian, John Carter,
whose miraculous transportation to Mars occurred March 4th, 1866, as
every school child of the twenty-first century knows. Had not the
little band of Martian scientists, who sought so long to communicate
with Earth, mistakenly formed themselves into a secret organization
for political purposes, messages might have been exchanged between
the two planets nearly half a century before they were, and it was
not until they finally called upon John Carter that the present inter-
planetary code was evolved.

Almost from the first the subject which engrossed us all the most was
the possibility of an actual exchange of visits between Earth Men and
Barsoomians. Each planet hoped to be the first to achieve this, yet
neither withheld any information that would aid the other in the
consummation of the great fact. It was a generous and friendly
rivalry which about the time of my graduation from the Air School
seemed, in theory at least, to be almost ripe for successful
consummation by one or the other. We had the Eighth Ray, the motors,
the oxygenating devices, the insulating processes—everything to
insure the safe and certain transit of a specially designed air craft
to Mars, were Mars the only other inhabitant of space. But it was not
and it was the other planets and the Sun that we feared.

In 2015 Mars had dispatched a ship for Earth with a crew of five men
provisioned for ten years. It was hoped that with good luck the trip
might be made in something less than five years, as the craft had
developed an actual trial speed of one thousand miles per hour. At
the time of my graduation the ship was already off its course almost
a million miles and generally conceded to be hopelessly lost. Its
crew, maintaining constant radio communication with both Earth and
Mars, still hoped for success, but the best informed upon both worlds
had given them up.

We had had a ship about ready at the time of the sailing of the
Martians, but the government at Washington had forbidden the venture
when it became apparent that the Barsoomian ship was doomed—a wise
decision, since our vessel was no better equipped than theirs. Nearly
ten years elapsed before anything further was accomplished in the
direction of assuring any greater hope of success for another
interplanetary venture into space, and this was directly due to the
discovery made by a former classmate of mine, Lieutenant Commander
Orthis, one of the most brilliant men I have ever known, and at the
same time one of the most unscrupulous, and, to me at least, the most
obnoxious.

We had entered the Air School together—he from New York and I from
Illinois—and almost from the first day we had seemed to discover a
mutual antagonism that, upon his part at least, must have been
considerably strengthened by numerous unfortunate occurrences during
our four years beneath the same roof. In the first place he was not
popular with either the cadets, the instructors, or the officers of
the school, while I was most fortunate in this respect. In those
various fields of athletics in which he considered himself
particularly expert, it was always I, unfortunately, who excelled him
and kept him from major honors. In the class room he outshone us all—
even the instructors were amazed at the brilliancy of his intellect—
and yet as we passed from grade to grade I often topped him in the
final examinations. I ranked him always as a cadet officer, and upon
graduation I took a higher grade among the new ensigns than he—a rank
that had many years before been discontinued, but which had recently
been revived.

From then on I saw little of him, his services confining him
principally to land service, while mine kept me almost constantly on
the air in all parts of the world. Occasionally I heard of him—
usually something unsavory; he had married a nice girl and abandoned
her—there had been talk of an investigation of his accounts—and the
last that there was a rumor that he was affiliated with a secret
order that sought to overthrow the government. Some things I might
believe of Orthis, but not this.

And during these nine years since graduation, as we had drifted apart
in interests, so had the breach between us been widened by constantly
increasing difference in rank. He was a Lieutenant Commander and I a
Captain, when in 2024 he announced the discovery and isolation of the
Eighth Solar Ray, and within two months those of the Moon, Mercury,
Venus and Jupiter. The Eighth Barsoomian and the Eighth Earthly Rays
had already been isolated, and upon Earth the latter erroneously
called by the name of the former.

Orthis’ discoveries were hailed upon two planets as the key to actual
travel between the Earth and Barsoom, since by means of these several
rays the attraction of the Sun and the planets, with the exception of
Saturn, Uranus and Neptune, could be definitely overcome and a ship
steer a direct and unimpeded course through space to Mars. The effect
of the pull of the three farther planets was considered negligible,
owing to their great distance from both Mars and Earth.

Orthis wanted to equip a ship and start at once, but again government
intervened and forbade what it considered an unnecessary risk.
Instead Orthis was ordered to design a small radio operated flier,
which would carry no one aboard, and which it was believed could be
automatically operated for at least half the distance between the two
planets. After his designs were completed, you may imagine his
chagrin, and mine as well, when I was detailed to supervise
construction, yet I will say that Orthis hid his natural emotions
well and gave me perfect cooperation in the work we were compelled to
undertake together, and which was as distasteful to me as to him. On
my part I made it as easy for him as I could, working with him rather
than over him.

It required but a short time to complete the experimental ship and
during this time I had an opportunity to get a still better insight
into the marvelous intellectual ability of Orthis, though I never saw
into his mind or heart.

It was late in 2024 that the ship was launched upon its strange
voyage, and almost immediately, upon my recommendation, work was
started upon the perfection of the larger ship that had been in
course of construction in 2015 at the time that the loss of the
Martian ship had discouraged our government in making any further
attempt until the then seemingly insurmountable obstacles should have
been overcome. Orthis was again my assistant, and with the means at
our disposal it was a matter of less than eight months before _The
Barsoom_, as she was christened, was completely overhauled and
thoroughly equipped for the interplanetary voyage. The various eighth
rays that would assist us in overcoming the pull of the Sun, Mercury,
Venus, Earth, Mars and Jupiter were stored in carefully constructed
and well protected tanks within the hull, and there was a smaller
tank at the bow containing the Eighth Lunar Ray, which would permit
us to pass safely within the zone of the moon’s influence without
danger of being attracted to her barren surface.

Messages from the original Martian ship had been received from time
to time and with diminishing strength for nearly five years after it
had left Mars. Its commander in his heroic fight against the pull of
the sun had managed to fall within the grip of Jupiter and was, when
last heard from far out in the great void between that planet and
Mars. During the past four years the fate of the ship could be naught
but conjecture—all that we could be certain of was that its
unfortunate crew would never again return to Barsoom.

Our own experimental ship had been speeding upon its lonely way now
for eight months, and so accurate had Orthis’ scientific deductions
proven that the most delicate instrument could detect no slightest
deviation from its prescribed course. It was then that Orthis began
to importune the government to permit him to set out with the new
craft that was now completed. The authorities held out, however,
until the latter part of 2025 when, the experimental ship having been
out a year and still showing no deviation from its course, they felt
reasonably assured that the success of the venture was certain and
that no useless risk of human life would be involved.

_The Barsoom_ required five men properly to handle it, and as had
been the custom through many centuries when an undertaking of more
than usual risk was to be attempted, volunteers were called for, with
the result that fully half the personnel of the International Peace
Fleet begged to be permitted to form the crew of five.

The government finally selected their men from the great number of
volunteers, with the result that once more was I the innocent cause
of disappointment and chagrin to Orthis, as I was placed in command,
with Orthis, two lieutenants and an ensign completing the roster.

_The Barsoom_ was larger than the craft dispatched by the Martians,
with the result that we were able to carry supplies for fifteen
years. We were equipped with more powerful motors which would permit
us to maintain an average speed of over twelve hundred miles an hour,
carrying in addition an engine recently developed by Orthis which
generated sufficient power from light to propel the craft at half-
speed in the event that our other engine should break down. None of
us was married, Orthis’ abandoned wife having recently died. Our
estates were taken under trusteeship by the government. Our farewells
were made at an elaborate ball at the White House on December 24,
2025, and on Christmas day we rose from the landing stage at which
_The Barsoom_ had been moored, and amid the blare of bands and the
shouting of thousands of our fellow countrymen we arose majestically
into the blue.

I shall not bore you with dry, technical descriptions of our motors
and equipment. Suffice it to say that the former were of three types—
those which propelled the ship through the air and those which
propelled it through ether, the latter of course represented our most
important equipment, and consisted of powerful multiple-exhaust
separators which isolated the true Barsoomian Eighth Ray in great
quantities, and, by exhausting it rapidly earthward, propelled the
vessel toward Mars. These separators were so designed that, with
equal facility, they could isolate the Earthly Eighth Ray which would
be necessary for our return voyage. The auxiliary engine, which I
mentioned previously and which was Orthis’ latest invention, could be
easily adjusted to isolate the eighth ray of any planet or satellite
or of the sun itself, thus insuring us motive power in any part of
the universe by the simple expedient of generating and exhausting the
eighth ray of the nearest heavenly body. A fourth type of generator
drew oxygen from the ether, while another emanated insulating rays
which insured us a uniform temperature and external pressure at all
times, their action being analogous to that of the atmosphere
surrounding the earth. Science had, therefore, permitted us to
construct a little world, which moved at will through space—a little
world inhabited by five soul.

Had it not been for Orthis’ presence I could have looked forward to a
reasonably pleasurable voyage, for West and Jay were extremely
likeable fellows and sufficiently mature to be companionable, while
young Norton, the ensign, though but seventeen years of age, endeared
himself to all of us from the very start of the voyage by his
pleasant manners, his consideration and his willingness in the
performance of his duties. There were three staterooms aboard _The
Barsoom_, one of which I occupied alone, while West and Orthis had
the second and Jay and Norton the third. West and Jay were
lieutenants and had been classmates at the air school. They would of
course have preferred to room together, but could not unless I
commanded it or Orthis requested it. Not wishing to give Orthis any
grounds for offense I hesitated to make the change, while Orthis,
never having thought a considerate thought or done a considerate deed
in his life, could not, of course, have been expected to suggest it.
We all messed together, West, Jay and Norton taking turns at
preparing the meals. Only in the actual operation of the ship were
the lines of rank drawn strictly. Otherwise we associated as equals,
nor would any other arrangement have been endurable upon such an
undertaking, which required that we five be practically imprisoned
together upon a small ship for a period of not less than five years.
We had books and writing materials and games, and we were, of course,
in constant radio communication with both Earth and Mars, receiving
continuously the latest news from both planets. We listened to opera
and oratory and heard the music of two worlds, so that we were not
lacking for entertainment. There was always a certain constraint in
Orthis’ manner toward me, yet I must give him credit for behaving
outwardly admirably. Unlike the others we never exchanged
pleasantries with one another, nor could I, knowing as I did that
Orthis hated me, and feeling for him personally the contempt that I
felt because of his character. Intellectually he commanded my highest
admiration, and upon intellectual grounds we met without constraint
or reserve, and many were the profitable discussions we had during
the first days of what was to prove a very brief voyage.

It was about the second day that I noticed with some surprise that
Orthis was exhibiting a friendly interest in Norton. It had never
been Orthis’ way to make friends, but I saw that he and Norton were
much together and that each seemed to derive a great deal of pleasure
from the society of the other. Orthis was a good talker. He knew his
profession thoroughly, and was an inventor and scientist of high
distinction. Norton, though but a boy, was himself the possessor of a
fine mind. He had been honor-man in his graduating class, heading the
list of ensigns for that year, and I could not help but notice that
he was drinking in every word along scientific lines that Orthis
vouchsafed.

We had been out about six days when Orthis came to me and suggested,
that inasmuch as West and Jay had been classmates and chums that they
be permitted to room together and that he had spoken to Norton who
had said that he would be agreeable to the change and would occupy
West’s bunk in Orthis’ stateroom. I was very glad of this for it now
meant that my subordinates would be paired off in the most agreeable
manner, and as long as they were contented, I knew that the voyage
from that standpoint at least would be more successful. I was, of
course, a trifle sorry to see a fine boy like Norton brought under
the influence of Orthis, yet I felt that what little danger might
result would be offset by the influence of West and Jay and myself or
counter-balanced by the liberal education which five years’ constant
companionship with Orthis would be to any man with whom Orthis would
discuss freely the subjects of which he was master.

We were beginning to feel the influence of the Moon rather strongly.
At the rate we were traveling we would pass closest to it upon the
twelfth day, or about the 6th of January, 2026.

Our course would bring us within about twenty thousand miles of the
Moon, and as we neared it I believe that the sight of it was the most
impressive thing that human eye had ever gazed upon before. To the
naked eye it loomed large and magnificent in the heavens, appearing
over ten times the size that it does to terrestrial observers, while
our powerful glasses brought its weird surface to such startling
proximity that one felt that he might reach out and touch the torn
rocks of its tortured mountains.

This nearer view enabled us to discover the truth or falsity of the
theory that has been long held by some scientists that there is a
form of vegetation upon the surface of the Moon. Our eyes were first
attracted by what appeared to be movement upon the surface of some of
the valleys and in the deeper ravines of the mountains. Norton
exclaimed that there were creatures there, moving about, but closer
observation revealed the fact of the existence of a weird fungus-like
vegetation which grew so rapidly that we could clearly discern the
phenomena. From the several days’ observation which we had at close
range we came to the conclusion that the entire life span of this
vegetation is encompassed in a single sidereal month. From the spore
it developed in the short period of a trifle over twenty-seven days
into a mighty plant that is sometimes hundreds of feet in height. The
branches are angular and grotesque, the leaves broad and thick, and
in the plants which we discerned the seven primary colors were
distinctly represented. As each portion of the Moon passed slowly
into shadow the vegetation first drooped, then wilted, then crumbled
to the ground, apparently disintegrating almost immediately into a
fine, dust-like powder—at least in so far as our glasses revealed, it
quite disappeared entirely. The movement which we discerned was
purely that of rapid growth, as there is no wind upon the surface of
the Moon. Both Jay and Orthis were positive that they discerned some
form of animal life, either insect or reptilian. These I did not
myself see, though I did perceive many of the broad, flat leaves
which seemed to have been partially eaten, which certainly
strengthened the theory that there is other than vegetable life upon
our satellite.

I presume that one of the greatest thrills that we experienced in
this adventure, that was to prove a veritable Pandora’s box of
thrills, was when we commenced to creep past the edge of the Moon and
our eyes beheld for the first time that which no other human eyes had
ever rested upon—portions of that two-fifths of the Moon’s surface
which is invisible from the Earth.

We had looked with awe upon Mare Crisium and Lacus Somniorum, Sinius
Roris, Oceanus Procellarum and the four great mountain ranges. We had
viewed at close range the volcanoes of Opollonius, Secchi, Borda,
Tycho and their mates, but all these paled into insignificance as
there unrolled before us the panorama of the vast unknown.

I cannot say that it differed materially from that portion of the
Moon that is visible to us—it was merely the glamour of mystery which
had surrounded it since the beginning of time that lent to it its
thrill for us. Here we observed other great mountain ranges and wide
undulating plains, towering volcanoes and mighty craters and the same
vegetation with which we were now become familiar.

We were two days past the Moon when our first trouble developed.
Among our stores were one hundred and twenty quarts of spirits per
man, enough to allow us each a liberal two ounces per day for a
period of five years. Each night, before dinner, we had drunk to the
President in a cocktail which contained a single ounce of spirits,
the idea being to conserve our supply in the event of our journey
being unduly protracted as well as to have enough in the event that
it became desirable fittingly to celebrate any particular occasion.

Toward the third meal hour of the thirteenth day of the voyage Orthis
entered the messroom noticeably under the influence of liquor.

History narrates that under the regime of prohibition drunkenness was
common and that it grew to such proportions as to become a national
menace, but with the repeal of the Prohibition Act, nearly a hundred
years ago, the habit of drinking to excess abated, so that it became
a matter of disgrace for any man to show his liquor, and in the
service it was considered as reprehensible as cowardice in action.
There was therefore but one thing for me to do. I ordered Orthis to
his quarters.

He was drunker than I had thought him, and he turned upon me like a
tiger.

“You damned cur,” he cried. “All my life you have stolen everything
from me; the fruits of all my efforts you have garnered by chicanery
and trickery, and even now, were we to reach Mars, it is you who
would be lauded as the hero—not I whose labor and intellect have made
possible this achievement. But by God we will not reach Mars. Not
again shall you profit by my efforts. You have gone too far this
time, and now you dare to order me about like a dog and an inferior—
I, whose brains have made you what you are.”

I held my temper, for I saw that the man was unaccountable for his
words. “Go to your quarters, Orthis,” I repeated my command. “I will
talk with you again in the morning.”

West and Jay and Norton were present. They seemed momentarily
paralyzed by the man’s condition and gross insubordination. Norton,
however, was the first to recover. Jumping quickly to Orthis’ side he
laid his hand upon his arm. “Come, sir,” he said, and to my surprise
Orthis accompanied him quietly to their stateroom.

During the voyage we had continued the fallacy of night and day,
gauging them merely by our chronometers, since we moved always
through utter darkness, surrounded only by a tiny nebula of light,
produced by the sun’s rays impinging upon the radiation from our
insulating generator. Before breakfast, therefore, on the following
morning I sent for Orthis to come to my stateroom. He entered with a
truculent swagger, and his first words indicated that if he had not
continued drinking, he had at least been moved to no regrets for his
unwarranted attack of the previous evening.

“Well,” he said, “what in hell are you going to do about it?”

“I cannot understand your attitude, Orthis,” I told him. “I have
never intentionally injured you. When orders from government threw us
together I was as much chagrined as you. Association with you is as
distasteful to me as it is to you. I merely did as you did—obeyed
orders. I have no desire to rob you of anything, but that is not the
question now. You have been guilty of gross insubordination and of
drunkenness. I can prevent a repetition of the latter by confiscating
your liquor and keeping it from you during the balance of the voyage,
and an apology from you will atone for the former. I shall give you
twenty-four hours to reach a decision. If you do not see fit to avail
yourself of my clemency, Orthis, you will travel to Mars and back
again in irons. Your decision now and your behavior during the
balance of the voyage will decide your fate upon our return to Earth.
And I tell you, Orthis, that if I possibly can do so I shall use the
authority which is mine upon this expedition and expunge from the log
the record of your transgressions last night and this morning. Now go
to your quarters; your meals will be served there for twenty-four
hours and at the end of that time I shall receive your decision.
Meanwhile your liquor will be taken from you.”

He gave me an ugly look, turned upon his heel and left my stateroom.

Norton was on watch that night. We were two days past the Moon. West,
Jay and I were asleep in our staterooms, when suddenly Norton entered
mine and shook me violently by the shoulder.

“My God, Captain,” he cried, “come quick. Commander Orthis is
destroying the engines.”

I leaped to my feet and followed Norton amidships to the engine-room,
calling to West and Jay as I passed their stateroom. Through the
bull’s-eye in the engine-room door, which he had locked, we could see
Orthis working over the auxiliary generator which was to have proven
our salvation in an emergency, since by means of it we could overcome
the pull of any planet into the sphere of whose influence we might be
carried. I breathed a sigh of relief as my eyes noted that the main
battery of engines was functioning properly, since, as a matter of
fact, we had not expected to have to rely at all upon the auxiliary
generator, having stored sufficient quantities of the Eighth Ray of
the various heavenly bodies by which we might be influenced, to carry
us safely throughout the entire extent of the long voyage. West and
Jay had joined us by this time, and I now called to Orthis,
commanding him to open the door. He did something more to the
generator and then arose, crossed the engine-room directly to the
door, unbolted it and threw the door open. His hair was dishevelled,
his face drawn, his eyes shining with a peculiar light, but withal
his expression denoted a drunken elation that I did not at the moment
understand.

“What have you been doing here, Orthis?” I demanded. “You are under
arrest, and supposed to be in your quarters.”

“You’ll see what I’ve been doing,” he replied truculently, “and it’s
done—it’s done—it can’t ever be undone. I’ve seen to that.”

I grabbed him roughly by the shoulder. “What do you mean? Tell me
what you have done, or by God I will kill you with my own hands,” for
I knew, not only from his words but from his expression, that he had
accomplished something which he considered very terrible.

The man was a coward and he quailed under my grasp. “You wouldn’t
dare to kill me,” he cried, “and it don’t make any difference, for
we’ll all be dead in a few hours. Go and look at your damned
compass.”




CHAPTER II


THE SECRET OF THE MOON


Norton, whose watch it was, had already hurried toward the pilot room
where were located the controls and the various instruments. This
room, which was just forward of the engine-room, was in effect a
circular conning-tower which projected about twelve inches above the
upper hull. The entire circumference of this twelve inch
superstructure was set with small ports of thick crystal glass.

As I turned to follow Norton I spoke to West. “Mr. West,” I said,
“you and Mr. Jay will place Lieutenant Commander Orthis in irons
immediately. If he resists, kill him.”

As I hurried after Norton I heard a volley of oaths from Orthis and a
burst of almost maniacal laughter. When I reached the pilot house I
found Norton working very quietly with the controls. There was
nothing hysterical in his movements, but his face was absolutely
ashen.

“What is wrong, Mr. Norton?” I asked. But as I looked at the compass
simultaneously I read my answer there before he spoke. We were moving
at right angles to our proper course.

“We are falling toward the Moon, sir,” he said, “and she does not
respond to her control.”

“Shut down the engines,” I ordered, “they are only accelerating our
fall.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” he replied.

“The Lunar Eighth Ray tank is of sufficient capacity to keep us off
the Moon,” I said. “If it has not been tampered with, we should be in
no danger of falling to the Moon’s surface.”

“If it has not been tampered with, sir; yes, sir, that is what I have
been thinking.”

“But the gauge here shows it full to capacity,” I reminded him.

“I know, sir,” he replied, “but if it were full to capacity, we
should not be falling so rapidly.”

Immediately I fell to examining the gauge, almost at once discovering
that it had been tampered with and the needle set permanently to
indicate a maximum supply. I turned to my companion.

“Mr. Norton,” I said, “please go forward and investigate the Lunar
Eighth Ray tank, and report back to me immediately.”

The young man saluted and departed. As he approached the tank it was
necessary for him to crawl through a very restricted place beneath
the deck.

In about five minutes Norton returned. He was not so pale as he had
been, but he looked very haggard.

“Well?” I inquired as he halted before me.

“The exterior intake valve has been opened, sir,” he said, “the rays
were escaping into space. I have closed it, sir.”

The valve to which he referred was used only when the ship was in dry
dock, for the purpose of refilling the buoyancy tank, and, because it
was so seldom used and as a further precaution against accident, the
valve was placed in an inaccessible part of the hull where there was
absolutely no likelihood of its being accidentally opened.

Norton glanced at the instrument. “We are not falling quite so
rapidly now,” he said.

“Yes,” I replied, “I had noted that, and I have also been able to
adjust the Lunar Eighth Ray gauge—it shows that we have about half
the original pressure.”

“Not enough to keep us from going aground,” he commented.

“No, not here, where there is no atmosphere. If the Moon had an
atmosphere we could at least keep off the surface if we wished to. As
it is, however, I imagine that we will be able to make a safe
landing, though, of course that will do us little good. You
understand, I suppose, Mr. Norton, that this is practically the end.”

He nodded. “It will be a sad blow to the inhabitants of two worlds,”
he remarked, his entire forgetfulness of self indicating the true
nobility of his character.

“It is a sad report to broadcast,” I remarked, “but it must be done,
and at once. You will, please, send the following message to the
Secretary of Peace:

    “U.S.S. _The Barsoom_, January 6, 2026, about twenty
    thousand miles off the Moon. Lieutenant Commander
    Orthis, while under the influence of liquor, has destroyed
    auxiliary engine and opened exterior intake valve Lunar
    Eighth Ray buoyancy tank. Ship sinking rapidly. Will
    keep you—”

Norton who had seated himself at the radio desk leaped suddenly to
his feet and turned toward me. “My God, sir,” he cried, “he has
destroyed the radio outfit also. We can neither send nor receive.”

A careful examination revealed the fact that Orthis had so cleverly
and completely destroyed the instruments that there was no hope of
repairing them. I turned to Norton.

“We are not only dead, Norton, but we are buried, as well.”

I smiled as I spoke and he answered me with a smile that betokened
his utter fearlessness of death.

“I have but one regret, sir,” he said, “and that is that the world
will never know that our failure was not due to any weakness of our
machinery, ship or equipment.”

“That is, indeed, too bad,” I replied, “for it will retard
transportation between the two worlds possibly a hundred years—maybe
forever.”

I called to West and Jay who by this time had placed Orthis in irons
and confined him to his stateroom. When they came I told them what
had happened, and they took it as coolly as did Norton. Nor was I
surprised, for these were fine types selected from the best of that
splendid organization which officered the International Peace Fleet.

Together we immediately made a careful inspection of the ship, which
revealed no further damage than that which we had already discovered,
but which was sufficient as we well knew, to preclude any possibility
of our escaping from the pull of the Moon.

“You gentlemen realize our position as well as I,” I told them.
“Could we repair the auxiliary generator we might isolate the Lunar
Eighth Ray, refill our tank, and resume our voyage. But the
diabolical cleverness with which Lieutenant Commander Orthis has
wrecked the machine renders this impossible. We might fight away from
the surface of the Moon for a considerable period, but in the end it
would avail us nothing. It is my plan, therefore, to make a landing.
In so far as the actual lunar conditions are concerned, we are
confronted only by a mass of theories, many of which are conflicting.
It will, therefore, be at least a matter of consuming interest to us
to make a landing upon this dead world where we may observe it
closely, but there is also the possibility, remote, I grant you, that
we may discover conditions there which may in some manner alleviate
our position. At least we can be no worse off. To live for fifteen
years cooped in the hull of this dead ship is unthinkable. I may
speak only for myself, but to me it would be highly preferable to die
immediately than to live on thus, knowing that there was no hope of
rescue. Had Orthis not destroyed the radio outfit we could have
communicated with Earth and another ship been outfitted and sent to
our rescue inside a year. But now we cannot tell them, and they will
never know our fate. The emergency that has arisen has, however, so
altered conditions that I do not feel warranted in taking this step
without consulting you gentlemen. It is a matter now largely of the
duration of our lives. I cannot proceed upon the mission upon which I
have been dispatched, nor can I return to Earth. I wish, therefore,
that you would express yourselves freely concerning the plan which I
have outlined.”

West, who was the senior among them, was naturally the one to reply
first. He told me that he was content to go wherever I led, and Jay
and Norton in turn signified a similar willingness to abide by
whatever decision I might reach. They also assured me that they were
as keen to explore the surface of the Moon at close range as I, and
that they could think of no better way of spending the remainder of
their lives than in the acquisition of new experiences and the
observation of new scenes.

“Very well, Mr. Norton,” I said, “you will set your course directly
toward the Moon.”

Aided by lunar gravity our descent was rapid.

As we plunged through space at a terrific speed, the satellite seemed
to be leaping madly toward us, and at the end of fifteen hours I gave
orders to slack off and brought the ship almost to a stop about nine
thousand feet above the summit of the higher lunar peaks. Never
before had I gazed upon a more awe-inspiring scene than that
presented by those terrific peaks towering five miles above the broad
valleys at their feet. Sheer cliffs of three and four thousand feet
were nothing uncommon, and all was rendered weirdly beautiful by the
variegated colors of the rocks and the strange prismatic hues of the
rapidly-growing vegetation upon the valley floors. From our lofty
elevation above the peaks we could see many craters of various
dimensions, some of which were huge chasms, three and four miles in
diameter. As we descended slowly we drifted directly over one of
these abysses, into the impenetrable depths of which we sought to
strain our eyesight. Some of us believed that we detected a faint
luminosity far below, but of that we could not be certain. Jay
thought it might be the reflected light from the molten interior. I
was confident that had this been the case there would have been a
considerable rise of temperature as we passed low across the mouth of
the crater.

At this altitude we made an interesting discovery. There is an
atmosphere surrounding the Moon. It is extremely tenuous, but yet it
was recorded by our barometer at an altitude of about fifteen hundred
feet above the highest peak we crossed. Doubtless in the valleys and
deep ravines, where the vegetation thrived, it is denser, but that I
do not know, since we never landed upon the surface of the Moon. As
the ship drifted we presently noted that it was taking a circular
course paralleling the rim of the huge volcanic crater above which we
were descending. I immediately gave orders to alter our course since,
as we were descending constantly, we should presently be below the
rim of the crater and, being unable to rise, be hopelessly lost in
its huge maw.

It was my plan to drift slowly over one of the larger valleys as we
descended, and make a landing amidst the vegetation which we
perceived growing in riotous profusion and movement beneath us. But
when West, whose watch it now was, attempted to alter the course of
the ship, he found that it did not respond. Instead it continued to
move slowly in a great circle around the inside rim of the crater. At
the moment of this discovery we were not much more than five hundred
feet above the summit of the volcano, and we were constantly, though
slowly, dropping. West looked up at us, smiled, and shook his head.

“It is no use, sir,” he said, addressing me. “It is about all over,
sir, and there won’t even be any shouting. We seem to be caught in
what one might call a lunar whirlpool, for you will have noticed,
sir, that our circles are constantly growing smaller.”

“Our speed does not seem to be increasing,” I remarked, “as would
follow were we approaching the vortex of a true whirlpool.”

“I think I can explain it, sir,” said Norton. “It is merely due to
the action of the Lunar Eighth Ray which still remains in the forward
buoyancy tank. Its natural tendency is to push itself away from the
Moon, which, as far as we are concerned, is represented by the rim of
this enormous crater. As each portion of the surface repels us in its
turn we are pushed gently along in a lessening circle, because, as we
drop nearer the summit of the peak the greater the reaction of the
Eighth Lunar Ray. If I am not mistaken in my theory our circle will
cease to narrow after we have dropped beneath the rim of the crater.”

“I guess you are right, Norton,” I said. “At least it is a far more
tenable theory than that we are being sucked into the vortex of an
enormous whirlpool. There is scarcely enough atmosphere for that, it
seems to me.”

As we dropped slowly below the rim of the crater the tenability of
Norton’s theory became more and more apparent, for presently, though
our speed increased slightly, the diameter of our circular course
remained constant, and, at a little greater depth, our speed as well.
We were descending now at the rate of a little over ten miles an
hour, the barometer recording a constantly increasing atmospheric
pressure, though nothing approximating that necessary to the support
of life upon Earth. The temperature rose slightly, but not
alarmingly. From a range of twenty-five or thirty below zero,
immediately after we had entered the shadow of the crater’s interior,
it rose gradually to zero at a point some one hundred and twenty-five
miles below the summit of the giant extinct volcano that had engulfed
us.

During the next ten miles our speed diminished rapidly, until we
suddenly realized that we were no longer falling, but that our motion
had been reversed and we were rising. Up we went for approximately
eight miles, when suddenly we began to fall again. Again we fell, but
this time for only six miles, when our motion was reversed and we
rose again a distance of about four miles. This see-sawing was
continued until we finally came to rest at about what we estimated
was a distance of some one hundred and thirty miles below the summit
of the crater. It was quite dark, and we had only our instruments to
tell us of what was happening to the ship, the interior of which was,
of course, brilliantly illuminated and comfortably warm.

Now below us, and now above us, for the ship had rolled completely
over each time we had passed the point at which we came finally to
rest, we had noted the luminosity that Norton had first observed from
above the mouth of the crater. Each of us had been doing considerable
thinking, and at last young Norton could contain himself no longer.

“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said deferentially, “but won’t you tell
us what you think of it; what your theory is as to where we are and
why we hang here in mid-air, and why the ship rolled over every time
we passed this point?”

“I can only account for it,” I replied, “upon a single and rather
preposterous hypothesis, which is that the Moon is a hollow sphere,
with a solid crust some two hundred and fifty miles in thickness.
Gravity is preventing us from rising above the point where we now
are, while centrifugal force keeps us from falling.”

The others nodded. They too had been forced to accept the same
apparently ridiculous theory, since there was none other that could
explain our predicament. Norton had walked across the room to read
the barometer which he had rather neglected while the ship had been
performing her eccentric antics far below the surface of the Moon. I
saw his brows knit as he glanced at it, and then I saw him studying
it carefully, as though to assure himself that he had made no mistake
in the reading. Then he turned toward us.

“There must be something wrong with this instrument, sir,” he said.
“It is registering pressure equivalent to that at the Earth’s
surface.”

I walked over and looked at the instrument. It certainly was
registering the pressure that Norton had read, nor did there seem to
be anything wrong with the instrument.

“There is a way to find out,” I said. “We can shut down the
insulating generator and open an air cock momentarily. It won’t take
five seconds to determine whether the barometer is correct or not.”
It was, of course, in some respects a risky proceeding, but with West
at the generator, Jay at the air cock and Norton at the pump I knew
that we would be reasonably safe, even if there proved to be no
atmosphere without. The only danger lay in the chance that we were
hanging in a poisonous gas of the same density as the earthly
atmosphere, but as there was no particular incentive to live in the
situation in which we were, we each felt that no matter what chance
we might take it would make little difference in the eventual outcome
of our expedition.

I tell you that it was a very tense moment as the three men took
their posts to await my word of command. If we had indeed discovered
a true atmosphere beneath the surface of the Moon, what more might we
not discover? If it were an atmosphere, we could propel the ship in
it, and we could, if nothing more, go out on deck to breathe fresh
air. It was arranged that at my word of command West was to shut off
the generator, Jay to open the air cock, and Norton to start the
pump. If fresh air failed to enter through the tube Jay was to give
the signal, whereupon Norton would reverse the pump, West start the
generator, and immediately Jay would close the air cock again.

As Jay was the only man who was to take a greater chance than the
others, I walked over and stood beside him, placing my nostrils as
close to the air cock as his. Then I gave the word of command.
Everything worked perfectly and an instant later a rush of fresh,
cold air was pouring into the hull of _The Barsoom_. West and Norton
had been watching the effects upon our faces closely, so that they
knew almost as soon as we did that the result of our test had been
satisfactory. We were all smiles, though just why we were so happy I
am sure none of us could have told. Possibly it was just because we
had found a condition that was identical with an earthly condition,
and though we might never see our world again we could at least
breathe air similar to hers.

I had them start the motors again then, and presently we were moving
in a great spiral upward toward the interior of the Moon. Our
progress was very slow, but as we rose the temperature rose slowly,
too, while the barometer showed a very-slightly-decreasing
atmospheric pressure. The luminosity, now above us, increased as we
ascended, until finally the sides of the great well through which we
were passing became slightly illuminated.

All this time Orthis had remained in irons in his stateroom. I had
given instructions that he was to be furnished food and water, but no
one was to speak to him, and I had taken Norton into my stateroom
with me. Knowing Orthis to be a drunkard, a traitor and a potential
murderer I had no sympathy whatsoever for him. I had determined to
court-martial him and did not intend to spend the few remaining hours
or years of my life cooped up in a small ship with him, and I knew
that the verdict of any court, whether composed of the remaining crew
of _The Barsoom_, or appointed by the Judge Advocate General of the
Navy, could result in but one thing, and that was death for Orthis. I
had left the matter, however, until we were not pressed with other
matters of greater importance, and so he still lived, though he
shared neither in our fears, our hopes, nor our joys.

About twenty-six hours after we entered the mouth of the crater at
the surface of the Moon we suddenly emerged from its opposite end to
look upon a scene that was as marvelous and weird, by comparison with
the landscape upon the surface of the Moon, as the latter was in
comparison with that of our own Earth. A soft, diffused light
revealed to us in turn mountains, valleys and sea, the details of
which were more slowly encompassed by our minds. The mountains were
as rugged as those upon the surface of the satellite, and appeared
equally as lofty. They were, however, clothed with verdure almost to
their summits, at least a few that were within our range of vision.
And there were forests, too—strange forests, of strange trees, so
unearthly in appearance as to suggest the weird phantasmagoria of a
dream.

We did not rise much above five hundred feet from the opening of the
well through which we had come from outer space when I descried an
excellent landing place and determined to descend. This was readily
accomplished, and we made a safe landing close to a large forest and
near the bank of a small stream. Then we opened the forward hatch and
stepped out upon the deck of _The Barsoom_, the first Earth Men to
breathe the air of Luna. It was, according to Earth time, eleven
a.m., January 8, 2026.

I think that the first thing which engaged our interest and attention
was the strange, and then, to us, unaccountable luminosity which
pervaded the interior of the Moon. Above us were banks of fleecy
clouds, the undersurfaces of which appeared to be lighted from
beneath, while, through breaks in the cloud banks we could discern a
luminous firmament beyond, though nowhere was there any suggestion of
a central incandescent orb radiating light and heat as does our sun.
The clouds themselves cast no shadows upon the ground, nor, in fact,
were there any well-defined shadows even directly beneath the hull of
the ship or surrounding the forest trees which grew close at hand.
The shadows were vague and nebulous, blending off into nothingnesses
at their edges. We ourselves cast no more shadows upon the deck of
_The Barsoom_ than would have been true upon a cloudy day on Earth.
Yet the general illumination surrounding us approximated that of a
very slightly hazy Earth day. This peculiar lunar light interested us
profoundly, but it was some time before we discovered the true
explanation of its origin. It was of two kinds, emanating from widely
different sources, the chief of which was due to the considerable
radium content of the internal lunar soil, and principally of the
rock forming the loftier mountain ranges, the radium being so
combined as to diffuse a gentle perpetual light which pervaded the
entire interior of the Moon. The secondary source was sunlight, which
penetrated to the interior of the Moon through the hundreds of
thousands of huge craters penetrating the lunar crust. It was this
sunlight which carried heat to the inner world, maintaining a
constant temperature of about eighty degrees Fahrenheit.

Centrifugal force, in combination with the gravity of the Moon’s
crust, confined the internal lunar atmosphere to a blanket which we
estimated at about fifty miles in thickness over the inner surface of
this buried world. This atmosphere rarefies rapidly as one ascends
the higher peaks, with the result that these are constantly covered
with perpetual snow and ice, sending great glaciers down mighty
gorges toward the central seas. It is this condition which has
probably prevented the atmosphere, confined as it is within an almost
solid sphere, from becoming superheated, through the unthinkable ages
that this condition must have existed. The Earth seasons are
reflected but slightly in the Moon, there being but a few degrees
difference between summer and winter. There are, however, periodic
wind-storms, which recur with greater or less regularity once each
sidereal month, due, I imagine, to the unequal distribution of crater
openings through the crust of the Moon, a fact which must produce an
unequal absorption of heat at various times and in certain
localities. The natural circulation of the lunar atmosphere, affected
as it is by the constantly-changing volume and direction of the sun’s
rays, as well as the great range of temperature between the valleys
and the ice-clad mountain peaks, produces frequent storms of greater
or less violence. High winds are accompanied by violent rains upon
the lower levels and blinding snowstorms among the barren heights
above the vegetation line. Rains which fall from low-hanging clouds
are warm and pleasant; those which come from high clouds are cold and
disagreeable, yet however violent or protracted the storm, the
illumination remains practically constant—there are never any dark,
lowering days within the Moon, nor is there any night.




CHAPTER III


ANIMALS OR MEN?


Of course we did not reach all these conclusions in a few moments,
but I have given them here merely as the outcome of our deductions
following a considerable experience within the Moon. Several miles
from the ship rose foothills which climbed picturesquely toward the
cloudy heights of the loftier mountains behind them, and as we looked
in the direction of these latter, and then out across the forest,
there was appreciable to us a strangeness that at first we could not
explain, but which we later discovered was due to the fact that there
was no horizon, the distance that one could see being dependent
solely upon one’s power of vision. The general effect was of being in
the bottom of a tremendous bowl, with sides so high that one might
not see the top.

The ground about us was covered with rank vegetation of pale hues—
lavenders, violets, pinks and yellows predominating. Pink grasses
which became distinctly flesh-color at maturity grew in abundance,
and the stalks of most of the flowering plants were of this same
peculiar hue. The flowers themselves were often of highly complex
form, of pale and delicate shades, of great size and rare beauty.
There were low shrubs that bore a berry-like fruit, and many of the
trees of the forest carried fruit of considerable size and of a
variety of forms and colors. Norton and Jay were debating the
possible edibility of some of these, but I gave orders that no one
was to taste them until we had had an opportunity to learn by
analysis or otherwise those varieties that were non-poisonous.

There was aboard _The Barsoom_ a small laboratory equipped especially
for the purpose of analyzing the vegetable and mineral products of
Mars according to earthly standards, as well as other means of
conducting research work upon our sister planet. As we had sufficient
food aboard for a period of fifteen years, there was no immediate
necessity for eating any of the lunar fruit, but I was anxious to
ascertain the chemical properties of the water since the manufacture
of this necessity was slow, laborious and expensive. I therefore
instructed West to take a sample from the stream and subject it to
laboratory tests, and the others I ordered below for sleep.

They were rather more keen to set out upon a tour of exploration, nor
could I blame them, but as none of us had slept for rather better
than forty-eight hours I considered it of importance that we
recuperate our vital forces against whatever contingency might
confront us in this unknown world. Here were air, water and
vegetation—the three prime requisites for the support of animal life—
and so I judged it only reasonable to assume that animal life existed
within the Moon. If it did exist, it might be in some highly
predatory form, against which it would tax our resources to the
utmost to defend ourselves. I insisted, therefore, upon each of us
obtaining his full quota of sleep before venturing from the safety of
_The Barsoom_.

We already had seen evidences of life of a low order, both reptile
and insect, or perhaps it would be better to describe the latter as
flying reptiles, as they later proved to be—toad-like creatures with
the wings of bats, that flitted among the fleshy boughs of the
forest, emitting plaintive cries. Upon the ground near the ship we
had seen but a single creature, though the moving grasses had assured
us that there were others there aplenty. The thing that we had seen
had been plainly visible to us all and may be best described as a
five-foot snake with four frog-like legs, and a flat head with a
single eye in the center of the forehead. Its legs were very short,
and as it moved along the ground it both wriggled like a true snake
and scrambled with its four short legs. We watched it to the edge of
the river and saw it dive in and disappear beneath the surface.

“Silly looking beggar,” remarked Jay, “and devilish unearthly.”

“I don’t know about that,” I returned. “He possessed nothing visible
to us that we are not familiar with on Earth. Possibly he was
assembled after a slightly different plan from any Earth creature;
but aside from that he is familiar to us, even to his amphibious
habits. And these flying toads, too; what of them? I see nothing
particularly remarkable about them. We have just as strange forms on
Earth, though nothing precisely like these. Mars, too, has forms of
animal and vegetable life peculiar to herself, yet nothing the
existence of which would be impossible upon Earth, and she has, as
well, human forms almost identical with our own. You see what I am
trying to suggest?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Jay; “that there may be human life similar to our
own within the Moon.”

“I see no reason to be surprised should we discover human beings here,”
I said; “nor would I be surprised to find a reasoning creature of
some widely divergent form. I would be surprised, however, were we to
find no form analogous to the human race of Earth.”

“That is, a dominant race with well developed reasoning faculties?”
asked Norton.

“Yes, and it is because of this possibility that we must have sleep
and keep ourselves fit, since we may not know the disposition of
these creatures, provided they exist, nor the reception that they
will accord us. And so, Mr. Norton, if you will get a receptacle and
fetch some water from the stream we will leave Mr. West on watch to
make his analysis and the rest of us will turn in.”

Norton went below and returned with a glass jar in which to carry the
water and the balance of us lined the rail with our service revolvers
ready in the event of an emergency as he went over the side. None of
us had walked more than a few steps since coming on deck after our
landing. I had noticed a slightly peculiar sensation of buoyancy, but
in view of the numerous other distractions had given it no
consideration. As Norton reached the bottom of the ladder and set
foot on lunar soil I called to him to make haste. Just in front of
him was a low bush and beyond it lay the river, about thirty feet
distant. In response to my command he gave a slight leap to clear the
bush and, to our amazement as well as to his own consternation, rose
fully eighteen feet into the air, cleared a space of fully thirty-
five feet and lit in the river.

“Come!” I said to the others, wishing them to follow me to Norton’s
aid, and sprang for the rail; but I was too impetuous. I never
touched the rail, but cleared it by many feet, sailed over the
intervening strip of land, and disappeared beneath the icy waters of
the lunar river. How deep it was I do not know; but at least it was
over my head. I found myself in a sluggish, yet powerful current, the
water seeming to move much as a heavy oil moves to the gravity of
Earth. As I came to the surface I saw Norton swimming strongly for
the bank and a second later Jay emerged not far from me. I glanced
quickly around for West, whom I immediately perceived was still on
the deck of _The Barsoom_, where, of course, it was his duty to
remain, since it was his watch.

The moment that I realized that my companions were all safe I could
not repress a smile, and then Norton and Jay commenced to laugh, and
we were still laughing when we pulled ourselves from the stream a
short distance below the ship.

“Get your sample, Norton?” I asked.

“I still have the container, sir,” he replied, and indeed he had
clung to it throughout his surprising adventure, as Jay and I,
fortunately, had clung to our revolvers. Norton removed the cap from
the bottle and dipped the latter into the stream. Then he looked up
at me and smiled.

“I think we have beaten Mr. West to it, sir,” he said. “It seems like
very good water, sir, and when I struck it I was so surprised that I
must have swallowed at least a quart.”

“I tested a bit of it myself,” I replied. “As far as we three are
concerned, Mr. West’s analysis will not interest us if he discovers
that lunar water contains poisonous matter, but for his own
protection we will let him proceed with his investigation.”

“It is strange, sir,” remarked Jay, “that none of us thought of the
natural effects of the lesser gravity of the Moon. We have discussed
the matter upon many occasions, as you will recall, yet when we faced
the actual condition we gave it no consideration whatsoever.”

“I am glad,” remarked Norton, “that I did not attempt to jump the
river—I should have been going yet. Probably landed on the top of
some mountain.”

As we approached the ship I saw West awaiting us with a most serious
and dignified mien; but when he saw that we were all laughing he
joined us, telling us after we reached the deck, that he had never
witnessed a more surprising or ludicrous sight in his life.

We went below then and after closing and securing the hatch, three of
us repaired to our bunks, while West with the sample of lunar water
went to the laboratory. I was very tired and slept soundly for some
ten hours, for it was the middle of Norton’s watch before I awoke.

The only important entry upon the log since I had turned in was
West’s report of the results of his analysis of the water, which
showed that it was not only perfectly safe for drinking purposes but
unusually pure, with an extremely low saline content.

I had been up about a half an hour when West came to me, saying that
Orthis requested permission to speak to me. Twenty-four hours before,
I had been fairly well determined to bring Orthis to trial and
execute him immediately, but that had been when I had felt that we
were all hopelessly doomed to death on his account. Now, however,
with a habitable world beneath our feet, surrounded by conditions
almost identical with those which existed upon Earth, our future
looked less dark, and because of this I found myself in a quandary as
to what course of action to pursue in the matter of Orthis’
punishment. That he deserved death there was no question, but when
men have faced death so closely and escaped, temporarily at least, I
believe that they must look upon life as a most sacred thing and be
less inclined to deny life to others. Be that as it may, the fact
remains that having sent for Orthis in compliance with his request I
received him in a mood of less stern and uncompromising justice than
would have been the case twenty-four hours previous. When he had been
brought to my stateroom and stood before me, I asked him what he
wished to say to me. He was entirely sober now and bore himself with
a certain dignity that was not untinged with humility.

“I do not know what has occurred since I was put in irons, as you
have instructed the others not to speak to me or answer my questions.
I know, of course, however, that the ship is at rest and that pure
air is circulating through it, and I have heard the hatch raised and
footsteps upon the upper deck. From the time that has elapsed since I
was placed under arrest I know that the only planet upon which we
have had time to make a landing is the Moon, and so I may guess that
we are upon the surface of the Moon. I have had ample time to reflect
upon my actions. That I was intoxicated is, of course, no valid
excuse, and yet it is the only excuse that I have to offer. I beg,
sir, that you will accept the assurance of my sincere regret of the
unforgivable things that I have done, and that you will permit me to
live and atone for my wrongdoings, for if we are indeed upon the
surface of the Moon it may be that we can ill spare a single member
of our small party. I throw myself, sir, entirely upon your mercy,
but beg that you will give me another chance.”

Realizing my natural antipathy for the man and wishing most sincerely
not to be influenced against him because of it, I let his plea
influence me against my better judgement with the result that I
promised him that I would give the matter careful consideration,
discuss it with the others, and be influenced largely by their
decision. I had him returned to his stateroom then and sent for the
other members of the party. With what fidelity my memory permitted I
repeated to them in Orthis’ own words his request for mercy.

“And now, gentlemen,” I said, “I would like to have your opinions in
the matter. It is of as much moment to you as to me, and under the
peculiar circumstances in which we are placed, I prefer in so far as
possible to defer wherever I can to the judgment of the majority.
Whatever my final action, the responsibility will be mine. I do not
seek to divide that, and it may be that I shall act contrary to the
wishes of the majority in some matters, but in this one I really wish
to abide by your desires because of the personal antagonism that has
existed between Lieutenant Commander Orthis and myself since
boyhood.”

I knew that none of these men liked Orthis, yet I knew, too, that
they would approach the matter in a spirit of justice tempered by
mercy, and so I was not at all surprised when one after another they
assured me that they would be glad if I would give the man another
opportunity.

Again I sent for Orthis, and after explaining to him that inasmuch as
he had given me his word to commit no disloyal act in the future I
should place him on parole, his eventual fate depending entirely upon
his own conduct; then had his irons removed and told him that he was
to return to duty. He seemed most grateful and assured us that we
would never have cause to regret our decision. Would to God that
instead of freeing him I had drawn my revolver and shot him through
the heart!

We were all pretty well rested up by this time, and I undertook to do
a little exploring in the vicinity of the ship, going out for a few
hours each day with a single companion, leaving the other three upon
the ship. I never went far afield at first, confining myself to an
area some five miles in diameter between the crater and the river.
Upon both sides of the latter, below where the ship had landed, was a
considerable extent of forest. I ventured into this upon several
occasions and once, just about time for us to return to the ship, I
came upon a well marked trail in the dust of which were the imprints
of three-toed feet. Each day I set the extreme limit of time that I
would absent myself from the ship with instructions that two of those
remaining aboard should set out in search of me and my companion,
should we be absent over the specified number of hours. Therefore, I
was unable to follow the trail the day upon which I discovered it,
since we had scarcely more than enough time to make a brief
examination of the tracks if we were to reach the ship within the
limit I had allowed.

It chanced that Norton was with me that day and in his quiet way was
much excited by our discovery. We were both positive that the tracks
had been made by a four-footed animal, something that weighed between
two hundred and fifty and three hundred pounds. How recently it had
been used we could scarcely estimate, but the trail itself gave every
indication of being a very old one. I was sorry that we had no time
to pursue the animal which had made the tracks but determined that
upon the following day I should do so. We reached the ship and told
the others what we had discovered. They were much interested and many
and varied were the conjectures as to the nature of the animals whose
tracks we had seen.

After Orthis had been released from arrest Norton had asked
permission to return to the former’s stateroom. I had granted his
request and the two had been very much together ever since. I could
not understand Norton’s apparent friendship for this man, and it
almost made me doubt the young ensign. One day I was to learn the
secret of this intimacy, but at the time I must confess that it
puzzled me considerably and bothered me not a little, for I had taken
a great liking to Norton and disliked to see him so much in the
company of a man of Orthis’ character.

Each of the men had now accompanied me on my short excursions of
exploration with the exception of Orthis. Inasmuch as his parole had
fully reinstated him among us in theory at least, I could not very
well discriminate against him and leave him alone of all the others
aboard ship as I pursued my investigations of the surrounding
country.

The day following our discovery of the trail, I accordingly invited
him to accompany me, and we set out early, each armed with a revolver
and a rifle. I advised West, who automatically took command of the
ship during my absence, that we might be gone considerably longer
than usual and that he was to feel no apprehension and send out no
relief party unless we should be gone a full twenty-four hours, as I
wished to follow up the spoor we had discovered, learn where the
trail led and have a look at the animal that had made it.

I led the way directly to the spot at which we had found the trail,
about four miles down river from the ship and apparently in the heart
of dense forest.

The flying-toads darted from tree to tree about us, uttering their
weird and plaintive cries, while upon several occasions, as in the
past, we saw four-legged snakes’ such as we had seen upon the day of
our landing. Neither the toads nor the snakes bothered us, seeming
only to wish to avoid us.

Just before we came upon the trail, both Orthis and I thought we
heard the sound of footsteps ahead of us—something similar to that
made by a galloping animal—and when we came upon the trail a moment
later it was apparent to both of us that dust was hanging in the air
and slowly settling on the vegetation nearby. Something, therefore,
had passed over the trail but a minute or two before we arrived. A
brief examination of the spoor revealed the fact that it had been
made by a three-toed animal whose direction of travel was to our
right and toward the river, at this point some half mile from us.

I could not help but feel considerable inward excitement, and I was
sorry that one of the others had not been with me, for I never felt
perfectly at ease with Orthis. I had done considerable hunting in
various parts of the world where wild game still exists but I had
never experienced such a thrill as I did at the moment that I
undertook to stalk this unknown beast upon an unknown trail in an
unknown world. Where the trail would lead me, what I should find upon
it, I never knew from one step to another, and the lure of it because
of that was tremendous. The fact that there were almost nine million
square miles of this world for me to explore, and that no Earth Man
had ever before set foot upon an inch of it, helped a great deal to
compensate for the fact that I knew I could never return to my own
Earth again.

The trail led to the edge of the river which at this point was very
wide and shallow. Upon the opposite shore, I could see the trail
again directly opposite and I knew therefore that this was a ford.
Without hesitating, I stepped into the river, and as I did so I
glanced to my left to see stretching before me as far as my eye could
reach a vast expanse of water. Here then I had stumbled upon the
mouth of the river and, beyond, a lunar sea.

The land upon the opposite side of the river was rolling and grass-
covered, but in so far as I could see, almost treeless. As I turned
my eyes from the sea back toward the opposite shore, I saw that which
caused me to halt in my tracks, cock my rifle and issue a cautious
warning to Orthis for silence, for there before us upon a knoll stood
a small horse-like animal.

It would have been a long shot, possibly five hundred yards, and I
should have preferred to have come closer but there was no chance to
do that now, for we were in the middle of the river in plain view of
the animal which stood there watching us intently. I had scarcely
raised my rifle, however, ere it wheeled and disappeared over the
edge of the knoll upon which it had been standing.

“What did it look like to you, Orthis?” I asked my companion.

“It was a good ways off,” he replied, “and I only just got my
binoculars on it as it disappeared, but I could have sworn that it
wore a harness of some sort. It was about the size of a small pony, I
should say, but it didn’t have a pony’s head.”

“It appeared tailless to me,” I remarked.

“I saw no tail,” said Orthis, “nor any ears or horns. It was a
devilish funny looking thing. I don’t understand it. There was
something about it—” he paused. “My God, sir, there was something
about it that looked human.”

“It gave me that same impression, too, Orthis, and I doubt if I
should have fired had I been able to cover it, for just at the
instant that I threw my rifle to my shoulder I felt that same strange
impression that you mention. There was something human about the
thing.”

As we talked, we had been moving on across the ford which we found an
excellent one, the water at no time coming to our waists while the
current was scarcely appreciable. Finally, we stepped out on the
opposite shore and a moment later, far to the left, we caught another
glimpse of the creature that we had previously seen. It stood upon a
distant knoll, evidently watching us.

Orthis and I raised our binoculars to our eyes almost simultaneously
and for a full minute we examined the thing as it stood there,
neither of us speaking, and then we dropped our glasses and looked at
each other.

“What do you make of it, sir?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know what to make of it, Orthis,” I
replied; “but I should swear that I was looking straight into a human
face, and yet the body was that of a quadruped.”

“There can be no doubt of it, sir,” he replied, “and this time one
could see the harness and the clothing quite plainly. It appears to
have some sort of a weapon hanging at its left side. Did you notice
it, sir?”

“Yes, I noticed it, but I don’t understand it.”

A moment longer we stood watching the creature until it turned and
galloped off, disappearing behind the knoll on which it had stood. We
decided to follow the trail which led in a southerly direction,
feeling reasonably assured that we were more likely to come in
contact with the creature or others similar to it upon the trail than
off of it. We had gone but a short distance when the trail approached
the river again, which puzzled me at the time somewhat, as we had
gone apparently directly away from the river since we had left the
ford, but after we had gone some mile and a half, we found the
explanation, since we came again to another ford while on beyond we
saw the river emptying into the sea and realized that we had crossed
an island lying in the mouth of the river.

I was hesitating as to whether to make the crossing and continue
along the trail or to go back and search the island for the strange
creature we had discovered. I rather hoped to capture it, but since I
had finally descried its human face, I had given up all intention of
shooting it unless I found that it would be necessary to do so in
self defense. As I stood there, rather undecided, our attention was
attracted back to the island by a slight noise, and as we looked in
the direction of the disturbance, we saw five of the creatures eyeing
us from high land a quarter of a mile away. When they saw that they
were discovered they galloped boldly toward us. They had come a short
distance only, when they stopped again upon a high knoll, and then
one of them raised his face toward the sky and emitted a series of
piercing howls. They they came on again toward us nor did they pause
until they were within fifty feet of us, when they came to a sudden
halt.




CHAPTER IV


CAPTURED


Our first view of the creatures proved beyond a question of a doubt
that they were in effect human quadrupeds. The faces were very broad,
much broader than any human faces that I have ever seen, but their
profiles were singularly like those of the ancient North American
Indians. Their bodies were covered with a garment with short legs
that ended above the knees, and which was ornamented about the collar
and also about the bottom of each leg with a rather fanciful
geometric design. About the barrel of each was a surcingle and
connected with it by a backstrap was something analogous to a
breeching in Earth horse harness. Where the breeching straps crossed
on either side, was a small circular ornament, and there was a strap
resembling a trace leading from this forward to the collar, passing
beneath a quite large, circular ornament, which appeared to be
supported by the surcingle. Smaller straps, running from these two
ornaments upon the left side, supported a sheath in which was carried
what appeared to be a knife of some description. And upon the right
side a short spear was carried in a boot, similarly suspended from
the two ornaments, much as the carbine of our ancient Earth cavalry
was carried. The spear, which was about six feet long, was of
peculiar design, having a slender, well-shaped head, from the base of
which a crescent-shaped arm curved backward from one side, while upon
the side opposite the crescent was a short, sharp, point at right
angles to the median line of the weapon.

For a moment we stood there eyeing each other, and from their
appearance I judged that they were as much interested in us as we
were in them. I noticed that they kept looking beyond us, across the
river toward the mainland. Presently, I turned for a glance in the
same direction, and far away beyond a thin forest I saw a cloud of
dust which seemed to be moving rapidly toward us. I called Orthis’
attention to it.

“Reinforcements,” I said. “That is what that fellow was calling for
when he screamed. I think we had better try conclusions with the five
before any more arrive. We will try to make friends first, but if we
are unsuccessful we must fight our way back toward the ship at once.”

Accordingly, I stepped forward toward the five with a smile upon my
lips and my hand outstretched. I knew of no other way in which to
carry to them an assurance of our friendliness. At the same time, I
spoke a few words in English in a pleasant and conciliatory tone.
Although I knew that my words would be meaningless to them, I hoped
that they would catch their intent from my inflection.

Immediately upon my advance, one of the creatures turned and spoke to
another, indicating to us for the first time that they possessed a
spoken language. Then he turned and addressed me in a tongue that
was, of course, utterly meaningless to me; but if he had
misinterpreted my action, I could not misunderstand that which
accompanied his words, for he reared up on his hind feet and
simultaneously drew his spear and a wicked-looking, short-bladed
sword or dagger, his companions at the same time following his
example, until I found myself confronted by an array of weapons
backed by scowling, malignant faces. Their leader uttered a single
word which I interpreted as meaning halt, and so I halted.

I pointed to Orthis and to myself, and then to the trail along which
we had come, and then back in the direction of the ship. I was
attempting to tell them that we wished to go back whence we had come.
Then I turned to Orthis.

“Draw your revolver,” I said, “and follow me. If they interfere we
shall have to shoot them. We must get out of this before the others
arrive.”

As we turned to retrace our steps along the trail, the five dropped
upon all fours, still holding their weapons in their fore-paws, and
galloped quickly to a position blocking our way.

“Stand aside,” I yelled, and fired my pistol above their heads. From
their actions, I judged that they had never before heard the report
of a firearm, for they stood an instant in evident surprise, and then
wheeled and galloped off for about a hundred yards, where they turned
and halted again, facing us. They were still directly across our
trail, and Orthis and I moved forward determinedly toward them. They
were talking among themselves, and at the same time watching us
closely.

When we had arrived at a few yards from them, I again threatened them
with my pistol, but they stood their ground, evidently reassured by
the fact that the thing that I held in my hand, though it made a loud
noise, inflicted no injury. I did not want to shoot one of them if I
could possibly avoid it, so I kept on toward them, hoping that they
would make way for us; but instead they reared again upon their hind
feet and threatened us with their weapons.

Just how formidable their weapons were, I could not, of course,
determine; but I conjectured that if they were at all adept in its
use, their spear might be a very formidable thing indeed. I was
within a few feet of them now, and their attitude was more war-like
than ever, convincing me that they had no intention of permitting us
to pass peacefully.

Their features, which I could now see distinctly, were hard, fierce,
and cruel in the extreme. Their leader seemed to be addressing me,
but, of course, I could not understand him; but when, at last,
standing there upon his hind feet, with evidently as much ease as I
stood upon my two legs, he carried his spear back in a particularly
menacing movement, I realized that I must act and act quickly.

I think the fellow was just on the point of launching his spear at
me, when I fired. The bullet struck him square between the eyes, and
he dropped like a log, without a sound. Instantly, the others wheeled
again and galloped away, this time evincing speed that was almost
appalling, clearing spaces of a hundred feet in a single bound, even
though handicapped, as they must have been, by the weapons which they
clutched in their fore-paws.

A glance behind me showed the dust-cloud rapidly approaching the
river, upon the mainland, and calling to Orthis to follow me, I ran
rapidly along the trail which led back in the direction of the ship.

The four Moon creatures retreated for about half a mile, and then
halted and faced us. They were still directly in our line of retreat,
and there they stood for a moment, evidently discussing their plans.
We were nearing them rapidly, for we had discovered that we, too,
could show remarkable speed, when retarded by gravity only one-sixth
of that of Earth. To clear forty feet at a jump was nothing, our
greatest difficulty lying in a tendency to leap to too great heights,
which naturally resulted in cutting down our horizontal distance. As
we neared the four, who had taken their stand upon the summit of a
knoll, I heard a great splashing in the river behind us, and turning,
saw that their reinforcements were crossing the ford, and would soon
be upon us. There appeared to be fully a hundred of them, and our
case looked hopeless indeed, unless we could manage to pass the four
ahead of us, and reach the comparative safety of the forest beyond
the first ford.

“Commence firing, Orthis,” I said. “Shoot to kill. Take the two at
the left as your targets, and I’ll fire at the two at the right. We
had better halt and take careful aim, as we can’t afford to waste
ammunition.”

We came to a stop about twenty-five yards from the foremost creature,
which is a long pistol shot; but they were standing still upon the
crest of a knoll, distinctly outlined against the sky, and were such
a size as to present a most excellent target. Our shots rang out
simultaneously. The creature at the left, at which Orthis had aimed,
leaped high into the air, and fell to the ground, where it lay
kicking convulsively. The one at the right uttered a piercing shriek,
clutched at its breast, and dropped dead. Then Orthis and I charged
the remaining two, while behind us we heard loud weird cries and the
pounding of galloping feet. The two before us did not retreat this
time, but came to meet us, and again we halted and fired. This time
they were so close that we could not miss them, and the last of our
original lunar foemen lay dead before us.

We ran then, ran as neither of us had imagined human beings ever
could run. I know that I covered over fifty feet in many a leap, but
by comparison with the speed of the things behind us, we might have
been standing still. They fairly flew over the lavender sward,
indicating that those, which we had first seen, had at no time
extended themselves in an effort to escape us. I venture to say that
some of them leaped fully three hundred feet at a time, and now, at
every bound, they emitted fierce and terrible yells, which I assumed
to be their war cry, intended to intimidate us.

“It’s no use, Orthis,” I said to my companion. “We might as well make
our stand here and fight it out. We cannot reach the ford. They are
too fast for us.”

We stopped then, and faced them, and when they saw we were going to
make a stand, they circled and halted about a hundred yards distant,
entirely surrounding us. We had killed five of their fellows, and I
knew we could hope for no quarter. We were evidently confronted by a
race of fierce and warlike creatures, the appearance of which, at
least, gave no indication of the finer characteristics that are so
much revered among humankind upon Earth. After a good look at one of
them, I could not imagine the creature harboring even the slightest
conception of the word mercy, and I knew that if we ever escaped that
fierce cordon, it would be by fighting our way through it.

“Come,” I said to Orthis, “straight through for the ford,” and
turning again in that direction, I started blazing away with my
pistol as I walked slowly along the trail. Orthis was at my side, and
he, too, fired as rapidly as I. Each time our weapons spoke, a Moon
Man fell. And now, they commenced to circle us at a run, much as the
savage Indians of the western plains circled the parked wagon trains
of our long-gone ancestors in North America. They hurled spears at
us, but I think the sound of our revolvers and the effect of the
shots had to some measure unnerved them, for their aim was poor and
we were not, at any time, seriously menaced.

As we advanced slowly, firing, we made many hits, but I was horrified
to see that every time one of the creatures fell, the nearest of his
companions leaped upon him and cut his throat from ear to ear. Some
of them had only to fall to be dispatched by his fellows. A bullet
from Orthis’ weapon shattered the hind leg of one of them, bringing
him to the ground. It was, of course, not a fatal wound, but the
creature had scarcely gone down, when the nearest to him sprang
forward, and finished him. And thus we walked slowly toward the ford,
and I commenced to have hope that we might reach it and make our
escape. If our antagonists had been less fearless, I should have been
certain of it, but they seemed almost indifferent to their danger,
evidently counting upon their speed to give them immunity from our
bullets. I can assure you that they presented most difficult targets,
moving as they did in great leaps and bounds. It was probably more
their number than our accuracy that permitted us the hits we made.

We were almost at the ford when the circle suddenly broke, and then
formed a straight line parallel to us, the leader swinging his spear
about his head, grasping the handle at its extreme end. The weapon
moved at great speed, in an almost horizontal plane. I was wondering
at the purpose of his action, when I saw that three or four of those
directly in the rear of him had commenced to swing their spears in a
similar manner. There was something strangely menacing about it that
filled me with alarm. I fired at the leader and missed, and at the
report of my pistol, a half dozen of them let go of their swift
whirling spears, and an instant later, I realized the purpose of
their strange maneuver; for the heavy weapons shot toward us, butts
first, with the speed of lightning, the crescent-like hooks catching
us around a leg, an arm and the neck, hurling us backward to the
ground, and each time we essayed to rise, we were struck again, until
we finally lay there, bruised and half stunned, and wholly at the
mercy of our antagonists, who galloped forward quickly, stripping our
weapons from us. Those who had hurled their spears at us recovered
them, and then they all gathered about, examining us, and jabbering
among themselves.

Presently, the leader spoke to me, prodding me with the sharp point
of his spear. I took it that he wanted me to arise, and I tried to do
so, but I was pretty much all in and fell back each time I essayed to
obey. Then he spoke to two of his followers, who lifted me and laid
me across the back of a third. There I was fastened in a most
uncomfortable position by means of leather straps which were taken
from various parts of the harnesses of several of the creatures.
Orthis was similarly lashed to another of them, whereupon they moved
slowly back in the direction from which they had come, stopping, as
they went, to collect the bodies of their dead, which were strapped
to the backs of others of their companions. The fellow upon whom I
rode had several well-defined gaits, one of which, a square trot, was
the acme of torture for me, since I was bruised and hurt and had been
placed across him face down, upon my belly; but inasmuch as this gait
must have been hard, too, upon him, while thus saddled with a burden,
he used it but little, for which I was tremendously thankful. When he
changed to a single-foot, which, fortunately for me, he often did, I
was much less uncomfortable.

As we crossed the ford toward the mainland, it was with difficulty
that I kept from being drowned, since my head dragged in the water
for a considerable distance and I was mighty glad when we came out
again on shore. The thing that bore me was consistently inconsiderate
of me, bumping me against others, and against the bodies of their
slain that were strapped to the backs of his fellows. He was
apparently quite tireless, as were the others, and we often moved for
what seemed many miles at a fast run. Of course, my lunar weight was
equivalent to only about thirty pounds on Earth while our captors
seemed fully as well-muscled as a small earthly horse, and as we
later learned, were capable of carrying heavy burdens.

How long we were on the march, I do not know, for where it is always
daylight and there is no sun nor other means of measuring time, one
may only guess at its duration, the result being influenced
considerably by one’s mental and physical sensations during the
period. Judged by these considerations, then, we might have been on
the trail for many hours, for I was not only most uncomfortable in
body, but in mind as well. However that may be, I know only that it
was a terrible journey; that we crossed rivers twice after reaching
the mainland, and came at last to our destination, amid low hills,
where there was a level, park-like space, dotted with weird trees.
Here the straps were loosened, and we were dumped upon the ground,
more dead than alive, and immediately surrounded by great numbers of
creatures who were identical with those who had captured us.

When I was finally able to sit up and look about, I saw that we were
at the threshold of a camp or village, consisting of a number of
rectangular huts, with high-peaked roofs, thatched or rather
shingled, with the broad, round leaves of the trees that grew about.

We saw now for the first time the females and the young. The former
were similar to the males, except that they were of lighter build,
and they were far more numerous. They had udders, with from four to
six teats, and many of them were followed by numerous progeny,
several that I saw having as high as six young in a litter. The young
were naked, but the females wore a garment similar to that worn by
the males, except that it was less ornate, as was their harness and
other trappings. From the way the women and children rushed upon us
as we were unloaded in camp, I felt that they were going to tear us
to pieces, and I really believe they would have had not our captors
prevented. Evidently the word was passed that we were not to be
injured, for after the first rush they contented themselves with
examining us, and sometimes feeling of us or our clothing, the while
they discussed us, but with the bodies of those who were slain, it
was different, for when they discovered these where they had been
unloaded upon the ground, they fell upon them and commenced to devour
them, the warriors joining them in the gruesome and terrible feast.
Orthis and I understood now that they had cut the throats of their
fellows to let the blood, in anticipation of the repast to come.

As we came to understand them and the conditions under which they
lived, many things concerning them were explained. For example, at
least two-thirds of the young that are born are males, and yet there
are only about one-sixth as many adult males, as there are females.
They are naturally carnivorous, but with the exception of one other
creature upon which they prey, there is no animal in that part of the
interior lunar world with which I am familiar, that they may eat with
safety. The flying-toad and the walking snake and the other reptilia
are poisonous, and they dare not eat them. The time had been, I later
learned, possibly, however, ages before, when many other animals
roamed the surface of the inner Moon, but all had become extinct
except our captors and another creature, of which we, at the time of
our capture, knew nothing, and these two preyed upon one another,
while the species which was represented by those into whose hands we
had fallen, raided the tribes and villages of their own kind for
food, and ate their own dead, as we had already seen. As it was the
females to whom they must look for the production of animal food,
they did not kill these of their own species and never ate the body
of one. Enemy women of their own kind, whom they captured, they
brought to their villages, each warrior adding to his herd the
individuals that he captured. As only the males are warriors, and as
no one will eat the flesh of a female, the mortality among the males
is, accordingly, extremely high, accounting for the vastly greater
number of adult females. The latter are very well treated, as the
position of a male in a community is dependent largely upon the size
of his herd.

The principal mortality among the females results from three causes—
raids by the other flesh-eating species which inhabit the inner lunar
world, quarrels arising from jealousy among themselves, and death
while bringing forth their young, especially during lean seasons when
their warriors have been defeated in battle and have been unable to
furnish them with flesh.

These creatures eat fruit and herbs and nuts as well as meat, but
they do not thrive well upon these things exclusively. Their
existence, therefore, is dependent upon the valor and ferocity of
their males whose lives are spent in making raids and forays against
neighboring tribes and in defending their own villages against
invaders.

As Orthis and I sat watching the disgusting orgy of cannibalism about
us, the leader of the party that had captured us came toward us from
the center of the village, and speaking a single word, which I later
learned meant come, he prodded us with his spear point until finally
we staggered to our feet. Repeating the word, then, he started back
into the village.

“I guess he wants us to follow him, Orthis,” I said. And so we fell
in behind the creature, which was evidently what he desired, for he
nodded his head, and stepped on in the direction that he had taken,
which led toward a very large hut—by far the largest in the village.

In the side of the hut presented to us there seemed to be but a
single opening, a large door covered by heavy hangings, which our
conductor thrust aside as we entered the interior with him. We found
ourselves in a large room, without any other opening whatsoever, save
the doorway through which we had entered, and over which the hanging
had again been drawn, yet the interior was quite light, though not so
much so as outside, but there were no means for artificial lighting
apparent. The walls were covered with weapons and with the skulls and
other bones of creatures similar to our captors, though Orthis and I
both noticed a few skulls much narrower than the others and which,
from their appearance, might have been the human skulls of Earth Men,
though in discussing it later, we came to the conclusion that they
were the skulls of the females and the young of the species, whose
faces are not so wide as the adult male.

Lying upon a bed of grasses at the opposite side of the room was a
large male whose skin was of so much deeper lavender hue than the
others that we had seen, as to almost suggest a purple. The face,
though badly disfigured by scars, and grim and ferocious in the
extreme, was an intelligent one, and the instant that I looked into
those eyes, I knew that we were in the presence of a leader. Nor was
I wrong, for this was the chief or king of the tribe into whose
clutches Fate had thrown us.

A few words passed between the two, and then the chief arose and came
toward us. He examined us very critically, our clothing seeming to
interest him tremendously. He tried to talk with us, evidently asking
us questions, and seemed very much disgusted when it became apparent
to him that we could not understand him, nor he us, for Orthis and I
spoke to one another several times, and once or twice addressed him.
He gave some instructions to the fellow who had brought us, and we
were taken out again, and to another hut, to which there was
presently brought a portion of the carcass of one of the creatures we
had killed before we were captured. I could not eat any of it,
however, and neither could Orthis; and after a while, by signs and
gestures, we made them understand that we wished some other kind of
food, with the result that a little later, they brought us fruit and
vegetables, which were more palatable and, as we were to discover
later, sufficiently nutritious to carry us along and maintain our
strength.

I had become thirsty, and by simulating drinking, I finally succeeded
in making plain to them my desire in that direction, with the result
that they led us out to a little stream which ran through the
village, and there we quenched our thirst.

We were still very weak and sore from the manhandling we had
received, but we were both delighted to discover that we were not
seriously injured, nor were any of our bones broken.




CHAPTER V


OUT OF THE STORM


Shortly after we arrived at the village, they took away our watches,
our pocket-knives, and everything that we possessed of a similar
nature, and which they considered as curiosities. The chief wore
Orthis’ wristwatch above one fore-paw and mine above the other, but
as he did not know how to wind them, nor the purpose for which they
were intended, they did him or us no good. The result was, however,
that it was now entirely impossible for us to measure time in any
way, and I do not know, even to this day, how long we were in this
strange village. We ate when we were hungry, and slept when we were
tired. It was always daylight; and it seemed that there were always
raiding parties going out or returning, so that flesh was plentiful,
and we became rather reconciled to our fate, in so far as the
immediate danger of being eaten was concerned, but why they kept us
alive, as we had slain so many of their fellows, I could not
understand.

It must have been immediately after we arrived that they made an
attempt to teach us their language. Two females were detailed for
this duty. We were given unlimited freedom within certain bounds,
which were well indicated by the several sentries which constantly
watched from the summit of hills surrounding the village. Past these
we could not go, nor do I know that we had any particular desire to
do so, since we realized only too well that there would be little
chance of our regaining the ship should we escape the village,
inasmuch as we had not the remotest idea in what direction it lay.

Our one hope lay in learning their language, and then utilizing our
knowledge in acquiring some definite information as to the
surrounding country and the location of _The Barsoom_.

It did not seem to take us very long to learn their tongue, though,
of course, I realize that it may really have been months. Almost
before we knew it, we were conversing freely with our captors. When I
say freely, it is possible that I exaggerate a trifle, for though we
could understand them fairly well, it was with difficulty that we
made ourselves understood, yet we managed it some way, handicapped as
we were by the peculiarities of the most remarkable language of which
I have any knowledge.

It is a very difficult language to speak, and as a written language,
would be practically impossible. For example, there is their word _gu-
e-ho_, for which Orthis and I discovered twenty-seven separate and
distinct meanings, and that there are others I have little or no
doubt. Their speech is more aptly described as song, the meaning of
each syllable being governed by the note in which it is sung. They
speak in five notes, which we may describe as A, B, C, D and E. _Gu_
sung in A means something radically different from _gu_ sung in E,
and again if _gu_ is sung in A, followed by _e_ in G, it means
something other than if _gu_ had been sung in D followed by _e_ in A.

Fortunately for us, there are no words of over three syllables, and
most of them consist of only one or two, or we should have been
entirely lost. The resulting speech, however, is extremely beautiful,
and Orthis used to say that if he closed his eyes, he could imagine
himself living constantly in grand opera.

The chief’s name, as we learned, was Ga-va-go; the name of the tribe
or village was No-vans, while the race to which they belonged was
known as Va-gas.

When I felt that I had mastered the language sufficiently well to
make myself at least partially understood, I asked to speak to Ga-va-
go, and shortly thereafter, I was taken to him.

“You have learned our speech?” he asked.

I nodded in the affirmative. “I have,” I said, “and I have come to
ask why we are held captives and what you intend to do with us. We
did not come to seek a quarrel with you. We wish only to be friends,
and to be allowed to go our way in peace.”

“What manner of creature are you,” he asked, “and where do you come
from?”

I asked him if he had ever heard of the Sun or the stars or the other
planets or any worlds outside his own, and he replied that he had
not, and that there were no such things.

“But there are, Ga-va-go,” I said, “and I and my companion are from
another world, far, far outside your own. An accident brought us
here. Give us back our weapons, and let us go.”

He shook his head negatively.

“Where you come from, do you eat one another?” he asked.

“No,” I replied, “we do not.”

“Why?” he asked, and I saw his eyes narrow as he awaited my reply.

Was it mental telepathy or just luck that put the right answer in my
mouth, for somehow, intuitively, I seemed to grasp what was in the
creature’s mind.

“Our flesh is poison,” I said, “those who eat it die.”

He looked at me then for a long time, with an expression upon his
face which I could not interpret. It may have been that he doubted my
word, or again, it may have been that my reply confirmed his
suspicion, I do not know; but presently he asked me another question.

“Are there many like you in the land where you live?”

“Millions upon millions,” I replied.

“And what do they eat?”

“They eat fruits and vegetables and the flesh of animals,” I
answered.

“What animals?” he asked.

“I have seen no animals here like them,” I replied, “but there are
many kinds unlike us, so that we do not have to eat flesh of our own
race.”

“Then you have all the flesh that you want?”

“All that we can eat,” I replied. “We raise these animals for their
flesh.”

“Where is your country?” he demanded. “Take me to it.”

I smiled. “I cannot take you to it,” I said. “It is upon another
world.”

It was quite evident that he did not believe me, for he scowled at me
ferociously.

“Do you wish to die?” he demanded.

I told him that I had no such longing.

“Then you will lead me to your country,” he said, “where there is
plenty of flesh for everyone. You may think about it until I send for
you again. Go!” And thus he dismissed me. Then he sent for Orthis,
but what Orthis told him, I never knew exactly, for he would not tell
me, and as our relations, even in our captivity, were far from
friendly, I did not urge him to any confidences. I had occasion to
notice, however, that from that time Ga-va-go indicated a marked
preference for Orthis, and the latter was often called to his hut.

I was momentarily expecting to be summoned in to Ga-va-go’s presence,
and learn my fate, when he discovered that I could not lead him to my
country, where flesh was so plentiful. But at about this time we
broke camp, and in the press of other matters, he evidently neglected
to take any further immediate action in my case, or at least, so I
thought, until I later had reason to suspect that he felt that he
need no longer depend upon me to lead him to this land of milk and
honey.

The Va-gas are a nomadic race, moving hither and thither, either as
they are pressed by some foes, or till their victories have
frightened away the other tribes from their vicinity, in either of
which events, they march in search of fresh territory. The move that
we made now was necessitated by the fact that all the other tribes
nearby had fled before the ferocity of the No-vans, whose repeated
and successful raids had depleted the villages of their neighbors and
filled them with terror.

The breaking of camp was a wonderfully simple operation. All their
few belongings, consisting of extra clothing, trappings, weapons, and
their treasured skulls and bones of victims, were strapped to the
backs of the women. Orthis and I each bestrode a warrior detailed by
Ga-va-go for the purpose of transporting us, and we filed out of the
village, leaving the huts behind.

Ga-va-go, with a half-dozen warriors, galloped far ahead. Then came a
strong detachment of warriors, with the women folks behind them,
another detachment of warriors following in the rear of the women and
children, while others rode upon either flank. A mile or so in the
rear, came three warriors, and there were two or three scattered far
out on either flank. Thus we moved, thoroughly protected against
surprise, regulating our speed by that of the point with which Ga-va-
go traveled.

Because of the women and the children, we moved more slowly than
warriors do when on the march alone, when they seldom, if ever,
travel slower than a trot, and more generally, at a fast gallop. We
moved along a well-worn trail, passing several deserted villages,
from which the prey of the No-vans had fled. We crossed many rivers,
for the lunar world is well watered. We skirted several lakes, and at
one point of high ground, I saw, far at our left, the waters of what
appeared to be a great ocean.

There was never a time when Orthis and I were not plentifully
supplied with food, for there is an abundance of it growing
throughout all the territory we crossed, but the No-vans had been
without flesh for several days and were, in consequence, mad with
hunger, as the fruits and vegetables which they ate seemed not to
satisfy them at all.

We were moving along at a brisk trot when, without warning, we were
struck by a sudden gust of wind that swept, cold and refreshing, down
from some icy mountain fastness. The effect upon the No-vans was
electrical. I would not have had to understand their language to
realize that they were terrified. They looked apprehensively about
and increased their speed as though endeavoring to overtake Ga-va-go,
who was now far ahead with the point. A moment later a dash of rain
struck us, and then it was every man for himself and the devil take
the hindmost, as they broke into a wild stampede to place themselves
close to their chief. Their hysterical flight was like the terrorized
rush of wild cattle. They jostled and tripped one another, and
stumbled and fell and were trampled upon, in their haste to escape.

Old Ga-va-go had stopped with his point, and was waiting for us.
Those who accompanied him seemed equally terrified with the rest, but
evidently they did not dare run until Ga-va-go gave the word. I
think, however, that they all felt safer when they were close to him,
for they had a great deal of confidence in him, yet they were still
pretty badly frightened, and it would not have taken much to have set
them off again into another rout. Ga-va-go waited until the last of
the rearguard straggled in, and then he set off directly toward the
mountains, the entire tribe moving in a compact mass, though they
might have fallen easy prey to an ambush or any sudden attack. They
knew, however, what I half guessed, that knowing that their enemies
were as terrified of the storm as they, there was little danger of
their being attacked—none whatever, in fact.

We came at last to a hillside covered with great trees which offered
some protection from both the wind and the rain, which had now arisen
to the proportion of a hurricane.

As we came to a halt, I slipped from the back of the warrior who had
been carrying me, and found myself beside one of the women who had
taught Orthis and me the language of the Va-gas.

“Why is everyone so terrified?” I asked her.

“It is Zo-al,” she whispered, fearfully. “He is angry.”

“Who is Zo-al?” I asked.

She looked at me in wide-eyed astonishment. “Who is Zo-al!” she
repeated. “They told me that you said that you came from another
world, and I can well believe it, when you ask, who is Zo-al?”

“Well, who is he?” I insisted.

“He is a great beast,” she whispered. “He is everywhere. He lives in
all the great holes in the ground, and when he is angry, he comes
forth and makes the water fall and the air run away. We know that
there is no water up there,” and she pointed toward the sky. “But
when Zo-al is angry, he makes water fall from where there is no
water, so mighty is Zo-al, and he makes the air to run away so that
the trees fall before it as it rushes past, and huts are knocked flat
or carried high above the ground. And then, O terror of terrors, he
makes a great noise, before which mighty warriors fall upon the
ground and cover up their ears. We have angered Zo-al, and he is
punishing us, and I do not dare to ask him not to send the big
noise.”

It was at that instant that there broke upon my ears the most
terrific detonation that I have ever heard. So terrific was it that I
thought my ear drums had burst, and simultaneously, a great ball of
fire seemed to come rolling down from the mountain heights above us.

The woman, covering her ears, shuddered, and when she saw the ball of
fire, she voiced a piercing shriek.

“The light that devours!” she cried. “When that comes too, it is the
end, for then is Zo-al mad with rage.”

The ground shook to the terrifying noise, and though the ball of fire
did not pass close to us, still could I feel the heat of it even as
it went by at a distance, leaving a trail of blackened and smoking
vegetation in its rear. What flames there were, the torrential rain
extinguished almost immediately. It must have traveled about ten
miles, down toward the sea, across rolling hills and level valleys,
when suddenly it burst, the explosion being followed by a report
infinitely louder than that which I had first heard. An earthquake
could scarce have agitated the ground more terrifyingly than did this
peal of lunar thunder.

I had witnessed my first lunar electrical storm, and I did not wonder
that the inhabitants of this strange world were terrified by it. They
attribute these storms, as they do all their troubles, to Zo-al, a
great beast, which is supposed to dwell in the depth of the lunar
craters, the lower ends of which open into the interior lunar world.
As we cowered there among the trees, I wondered if they were not
afraid that the wind would blow the forest down and crush them, and I
asked the woman who stood beside me.

“Yes,” she said, “that often happens, but more often does it happen
that if one is caught in a clearing, the air that runs away picks him
up and carries him along to drop him from a great height upon the
hard ground. The trees bend before they break, and those who watch
are warned, and they escape destruction if they are quick. When the
wind that runs seizes one, there is no escape.”

“It seems to me,” I said, “that it would have been safer if Ga-va-go
had led us into one of those sheltered ravines,” and I indicated a
gorge in the hillside at our right.

“No,” she said, “Ga-va-go is wise. He led us to the safest spot. We
are sheltered from the air that runs away, and perhaps a little from
the light that devours, nor can the waters that drown, reach us here,
for presently they will fill that ravine full.”

Nor was she wrong. Rushing down from the hillside, the water poured
in torrents into the ravine, and presently, though it must have been
twenty or thirty feet deep, it was filled almost to overflowing.
Whoever had sought refuge there, would have been drowned and washed
away to the big ocean far below. It was evident that Ga-va-go had not
been actuated solely by blind terror, though I came to know that he
must have felt terror, for these terrible electrical storms alone can
engender it in the breasts of these fearless and ferocious people.

The storm must have lasted for a considerable time; how long, of
course, I do not know, but some idea of its duration may be gained by
the fact that I became hungry and ate of the fruit of the trees,
which sheltered us, at least six times, and slept twice. We were
soaked to the skin and very cold, for the rain evidently came from a
great altitude. During the entire storm, the No-vans scarcely moved
from their positions beneath the trees, with their backs toward the
storm, where they stood with lowered heads like cattle. We
experienced twelve detonations of the ground-shaking thunder, and
witnessed six manifestations of the light that devours. Trees had
fallen all about us, and as far as we could see, the grasses lay flat
and matted upon the ground. They told me that storms of the severity
of this were infrequent, though rain and wind, accompanied by
electrical manifestations, might be expected at any season of the
year—I use that expression from habit, for one can scarcely say that
there are any well-marked seasonal changes within the Moon that could
indicate corresponding divisions of time as upon the Earth. From what
I was able to gather from observation and from questioning the Va-
gas, lunar vegetation reproduces itself entirely independent of any
seasonal restrictions, the frequency and temperature of the rains
having, seemingly, the greatest influence in the matter. A period of
drought and cold rains retards growth and germination, while frequent
warm rains have an opposite effect, the result being that you find
vegetation of the same variety in all stages of development, growing
side by side—blossoms upon one tree, fruit upon another, and the dry
seed-pods upon a third. Not even, therefore, by the growth of plant
life, might one measure time within the Moon, and the period of
gestation among the Va-gas is similarly irregular, being affected by
the physical condition of the female as well as by climatic
conditions, I imagine. When the tribe is well-fed, and the weather
warm, the warriors victorious, and the minds of the women at peace,
they bring forth their young in an incredibly short period. On the
other hand, a period of cold, or of hunger, and of long marches,
following defeat, induces an opposite result. It seems to me that the
females nurse their young for a very short period of time, for they
grow rapidly, and as soon as their molars are through, and they can
commence eating meat, they are weaned. They are devilish little
rascals, their youthful exuberance finding its outlet in acts of
fiendish cruelty. As they are not strong enough to inflict their
tortures on adults they perpetrate them upon one another, with the
result that the weaker are often killed, after they are weaned and
have left the protection of their savage mothers. Of course, they
tried to play some of their fiendish tricks on Orthis and myself, but
after we had knocked a few of them down, they left us severely alone.

During the storm, they huddled, shivering and cold, against the
adults. Possibly I should be ashamed to say it, but I felt no pity
for them, and rather prayed that they would all be chilled to death,
so hateful and wantonly cruel were they. As they become adults, they
are less wanton in their atrocities, though no less cruel, their
energies, however, being intelligently directed upon the two vital
interests of their lives—procuring flesh and women.

Shortly after the rain ceased, the wind began to abate, and as I was
cold, cramped and uncomfortable, I walked out into the open, in
search of exercise that would stimulate my circulation and warm me
again. As I walked briskly to and fro, looking here and there at the
evidences of the recent storm, my glance chanced to rise toward the
sky, and there I saw what appeared at first to be a huge bird, a few
hundred feet above the forest in which we had sought shelter. It was
flapping its great wings weakly and seemed to be almost upon the
verge of exhaustion, and though I could see that it was attempting to
fly back in the direction of the mountains, the force of the wind was
steadily carrying it in the direction of the lowlands and the sea.
Presently it would be directly above me, and as it drew nearer, I
knit my brows in puzzlement, for except for its wings, and what
appeared to be a large hump upon its back, its form bore a striking
resemblance to that of a human being.

Some of the No-vans evidently saw me looking upwards thus
interestedly, and prompted by curiosity, joined me. When they saw the
creature flying weakly overhead, they set up a great noise, until
presently all the tribe had run into the open and were looking up at
the thing above us.

The wind was lessening rapidly, but it still was strong enough to
carry the creature gently toward us, and at the same time I perceived
that whatever it was, it was falling slowly to the ground, or more
correctly, sinking slowly.

“What is it?” I asked of the warrior standing beside me.

“It is a U-ga,” he replied. “Now shall we eat.”

I had seen no birds in the lunar world, and as I knew they would not
eat the flying reptiles, I guessed that this must be some species of
bird life, but as it dropped closer, I became more and more convinced
that it was a winged human being, or at least a winged creature with
human form.

As it fluttered toward the ground, the No-vans ran along to meet it,
waiting for it to fall within reach. As they did so, Ga-va-go called
to them to bring the creature to him alive and unharmed.

I was about a hundred yards from the spot, when the poor thing
finally fell into their clutches. They dragged it to the ground
roughly, and a moment later I was horrified to see them tear its
wings from it and the hump from its back. There was a great deal of
grumbling at Ga-va-go’s order, as following the storm and their long
fast, the tribe was ravenously hungry.

“Flesh, flesh!” they growled. “We are hungry. Give us flesh!” But Ga-
va-go paid no attention to them, standing to one side beneath a tree,
awaiting the prisoner that they were bringing toward him.




CHAPTER VI


THE MOON MAID


Orthis, who was becoming the almost constant companion of the chief,
was standing beside the latter, while I was twenty-five or thirty
yards away, and directly between Ga-va-go and the warriors who were
approaching with the prisoner, who would of necessity have to pass
close beside me. I remained where I was, therefore, in order to get a
better look at it, which was rather difficult because it was almost
entirely surrounded by No-vans. However as they came opposite me,
there was a little break momentarily in the ranks, and I had my first
opportunity, though brief, for a closer observation of the captive;
and my comprehension was almost staggered by what my eyes revealed to
me, for there before me, was as perfectly formed a human female as I
had ever seen. By earthly standards, she appeared a girl of about
eighteen, with hair of glossy blackness, that suggested more the
raven’s wing than aught else and a skin of almost marble whiteness,
slightly tinged with a creamy shade. Only in the color of her skin,
did she differ from earthly women in appearance, except that she
seemed far more beautiful than they. Such perfection of features
seemed almost unbelievable. Had I seen her first posed motionless, I
could have sworn that she was chiseled from marble, yet there was
nothing cold about her appearance. She fairly radiated life and
feeling. If my first impression had been startling, it was nothing to
the effect that was produced when she turned her eyes full upon me.
Her black brows were two thin, penciled arches, beneath which were
dark wells of light, vying in blackness with her raven hair. On
either cheek was just the faintest suggestion of a deeper cream, and
to think that these hideous creatures saw in that form divine only
flesh to eat! I shuddered at the thought and then my eyes met hers
and I saw an expression of incredulity and surprise registered in
those liquid orbs. She half-turned her head as she was dragged past,
that she might have a further look at me, for doubtless she was as
surprised to see a creature like me as I was to see her.

Involuntarily I started forward. Whether there was an appeal for
succor in those eyes I do not know, but at least they aroused within
me instantly, that natural instinct of a human male to protect the
weak. And so it was that I was a little behind her and to her right,
when she was halted before Ga-va-go.

The savage Va-gas’ chieftain eyed her coldly, while from all sides
there arose cries of “Give us flesh! Give us flesh! We are hungry!”
to which Ga-va-go paid not the slightest attention.

“From whence come you, U-ga?” he demanded. Her head was high, and she
eyed him with cold dignity as she replied, “From Laythe.”

The No-van raised his brows. “Ah,” he breathed, “from Laythe. The
flesh of the women from Laythe is good,” and he licked his thin lips.

The girl narrowed her eyes, and tilted her chin a bit higher.
“Rympth!” she ejaculated, disgustedly.

As rympth is the name of the four-legged snake of Va-nah, the inner
lunar world, and considered the lowest and most disgusting of created
things, she could not well have applied a more opprobrious epithet to
the No-van chieftain, but if it had been her intent to affront him,
his expression gave no indication that she had succeeded.

“Your name?” he asked.

“Nah-ee-lah,” she replied.

“Nah-ee-lah,” he repeated, “Ah, you are the daughter of Sagroth,
Jemadar of Laythe.”

She nodded in indifferent affirmation, as though aught he might say
was a matter of perfect indifference to her.

“What do you expect us to do with you?” asked Ga-va-go, a question
which suggested a cat playing with a mouse before destroying it.

“What can I expect of the Va-gas, other than that they will kill me
and eat me?” she replied.

A roar of savage assent arose from the creatures surrounding her. Ga-
va-go flashed a quick look of anger and displeasure at his people.

“Do not be too sure of that,” he snapped. “This be little more than a
meal for Ga-va-go alone. It would but whet the appetite of the
tribe.”

“There are two more,” suggested a bold warrior, close beside me,
pointing at me and at Orthis.

“Silence!” roared Ga-va-go. “Since when did you become chief of the
No-vans?”

“We can starve without a chief,” muttered the warrior who had spoken,
and from two or three about him arose grumblings of assent.

Swift, at that, Ga-va-go reared upon his hind feet, and in the same
motion, drew and hurled his spear, the sharp point penetrating the
breast of the malcontent, piercing his heart. As the creature fell,
the warrior closest to him slit his throat, while another withdrew Ga-
va-go’s spear from the corpse, and returned it to the chief.

“Divide the carcass among you,” commanded the chief, “and whosoever
thinks that there is not enough, let him speak as that one spoke, and
there shall be more flesh to eat.”

Thus did Ga-va-go, chief of the No-vans, hold the obedience of his
savage tribesmen. There was no more muttering then, but I saw several
cast hungry eyes at me—hungry, angry eyes that boded me no good.

In what seemed an incredibly short space of time, the carcass of the
slain warrior had been divided and devoured, and once again we set
out upon the march, in search of new fields to conquer, and fresh
flesh to eat.

Now Ga-va-go sent scouts far in advance of the point, for we were
entering territory which he had not invaded for a long time, a truth
which was evidenced by the fact that there were only about twenty
warriors in the tribe, besides Ga-va-go, who were at all familiar
with the territory. Naturally quarrelsome and disagreeable, the No-
vans were far from pleasant companions upon that memorable march,
since they had not recovered from the fright and discomforts of the
storm and, in addition, were ravenously hungry. I imagine that none,
other than Ga-va-go, could have held them. What his purpose was in
preserving the three prisoners, that would have made such excellent
food for the tribe, I did not know. However, we were not slain,
though I judged the fellow who carried me, would much sooner have
eaten me, and to vent his spite upon me he trotted as much as he
could, and I can assure you that he had the most devilishly execrable
trot I ever sat. I felt that he was rather running the thing into the
ground, for he had an easy rack, which would have made it much more
comfortable for both of us, and inasmuch as I knew that I was safe as
long as I was under Ga-va-go’s protection, I made up my mind to teach
the fellow a lesson, which I finally did, although almost as much to
my discomfort as his, by making no effort to ease myself upon his
back so that at every step I rose high and came down hard upon him,
sitting as far back as possible so as to pound his kidneys painfully.
It made him very angry and he threatened me with all kinds of things
if I didn’t desist, but I only answered by suggesting that he take an
easier gait, which at last he was forced to do.

Orthis was riding ahead with Ga-va-go, who as usual led the point,
while the new prisoner astride a No-van warrior was with the main
body, as was I.

Once the warriors that we bestrode paced side by side, and I saw the
girl eyeing me questioningly. She seemed much interested in the
remnants of my uniform, which must have differed greatly from any
clothing she had seen in her own world. It seemed that she spoke and
understood the same language that Ga-va-go used, and so at last I
made bold to address her.

“It is unfortunate,” I said, “that you have fallen into the hands of
these creatures. I wish that I might be of service to you, but I also
am a prisoner.”

She acknowledged my speech with a slight inclination of her head, and
at first I thought that she was not going to reply, but finally
looking me full in the face she asked, “What are you?”

“I am one of the inhabitants of the planet Earth.”

“Where is that, and what is planet?” she asked, for I had had to use
the Earth word, since there is no word of similar meaning in the
language of the Va-gas.

“You know, of course,” I said, “that space outside of Va-nah is
filled with other worlds. The closest to Va-nah is Earth, which is
many, many times larger than your world. It is from Earth that I
come.”

She shook her head. “I do not understand,” she said. She closed her
eyes, and waved her hands with a gesture that might have included the
universe. “All, all is rock,” she said, “except here in the center of
everything, in this space we call Va-nah. All else is rock.”

I suppressed a smile at the vast egotism of Va-nah, but yet how
little different is it from many worldlings, who conceive that the
entire cosmos exists solely for the inhabitants of Earth. I even know
men in our own enlightened twenty-first century, who insist that Mars
is not inhabited and that the messages that are purported to come
from our sister planet, are either the evidences of a great world
hoax, or the voice of the devil luring people from belief in the true
God.

“Did you ever see my like in Va-nah?” I asked her.

“No,” she replied, “I never did, but I have not been to every part of
Va-nah. Va-nah is a very great world, and there are many corners of
it of which I know nothing.”

“I am not of Va-nah,” I told her again, “I am from another world far,
far away;” and then I tried to explain something of the universe to
her—of the sun and the planets and their satellites, but I saw that
it was as far beyond her as are the conceptions of eternity and space
beyond the finite mind of Earth Men. She simply couldn’t get it, that
was all. To her, everything was solid rock that we know as space. She
thought for a long time, though, and then she said, “Ah, perhaps
after all there may be other worlds than Va-nah. The great Hoos,
those vast holes that lead into the eternal rock, may open into other
worlds like Va-nah. I have heard that theory discussed, but no one in
Va-nah believes it. It is true, then!” she exclaimed brightly, “and
you come from another world like Va-nah. You came through one of the
Hoos, did you not?”

“Yes, I came through one of the Hoos,” I replied—the word means hole
in the Va-gas tongue—”but I did not come from a world like Va-nah.
Here you live upon the inside of a hollow sphere. We Earth Men live
upon the outside of a similar though much larger sphere.”

“But what holds it up?” she cried, laughing. It was the first time
that she had laughed, and it was a very contagious laugh, and
altogether delightful. Although I knew that it would probably be
useless, I tried to explain the whole thing to her, commencing with
the nebular hypothesis, and winding up with the relations that exist
between the Moon and the Earth. If I didn’t accomplish anything else,
I at least gave her something to distract her mind from her grave
predicament, and to amuse her temporarily, for she laughed often at
some of my statements. I had never seen so gay and vivacious a
creature, nor one so entirely beautiful as she. The single,
sleeveless, tunic-like garment that she wore, fell scarcely to her
knees and as she bestrode the No-van warrior, it often flew back
until her thighs, even, were exposed. Her figure was divinely
perfect, its graceful contours being rather accentuated than hidden
by the diaphanous material of her dainty covering; but when she
laughed, she exposed two rows of even white teeth that would be the
envy of the most beautiful of Earth Maids.

“Suppose,” she said, “that I should take a handful of gravel and
throw it up in the air. According to your theory the smaller would
all commence to revolve about the larger and they would go flying
thus wildly around in the air forever, but that is not what would
happen. If I threw a handful of gravel into the air it would fall
immediately to the ground again, and if the worlds you tell me of
were cast thus into the air, they too would fall, just as the gravel
falls.”

It was useless, but I had known that from the beginning. What would
be more interesting would be to question her, and that I had wished
to do for some time, but she always put me off with a pretty gesture
and a shake of her head, insisting that I answer some of her
questions instead, but this time I insisted.

“Tell me, please,” I asked, “how you came to the spot where you were
captured, how you flew, and what became of your wings, and why, when
they tore them from you, it did not injure you?”

She laughed at that quite merrily.

“The wings do not grow upon us,” she explained, “we make them and
fasten them upon our arms.”

“Then you can support yourself in the air with wings fastened to your
arms?” I demanded, incredulously.

“Oh, no,” she said, “the wings we use simply for propelling ourselves
through the air. In a bag, upon our backs, we carry a gas that is
lighter than air. It is this gas which supports us, and we carry it
in such quantities as to maintain a perfect equilibrium, so that we
may float at any altitude, or with our wings rise or fall gently; but
as I hovered over Laythe, came the air that runs, and seizing me with
its strong arms bore me off across the surface of Va-nah. Futilely I
fought against it until I was spent and weak, and then it dropped me
into the clutches of the Va-gas, for the gas in my bag had become
depleted. It was not intended to carry me aloft for any great length
of time.”

She had used a word which, when I questioned her, she explained so
that I understood that it meant time, and I asked her what she meant
by it and how she could measure it, since I had seen no indication of
the Va-gas having any conception of a measurable aspect of duration.

Nah-ee-lah explained to me that the Va-gas, who were a lower order,
had no means of measuring time, but that the U-ga, the race to which
she belonged, had always been able to compute time through their
observation of the fact that during certain periods the bottoms of
the hoos, or craters, were illuminated, and for another period they
were dark, and so they took as a unit of measure the total period
from the beginning of this light in a certain crater to its beginning
again, and this they called a _ula_, which corresponds with a
sidereal month. By mechanical means they divide this into a hundred
parts, called _ola_, the duration of each of which is about six hours
and thirty-two minutes earth time. Ten ulas make a _keld_, which one
might call the lunar year of about two hundred and seventy-two days
earth time.

I asked her many questions and took great pleasure in her answers,
for she was a bright, intelligent girl, and although I saw many
evidences of regal dignity about her, yet her manner toward me was
most natural and unaffected, and I could not help but feel that she
occupied a position of importance among her own people.

Our conversation was suddenly interrupted, however, by a messenger
from the point, who came racing back at tremendous speed, carrying
word from Ga-va-go that the scouts were signaling that they had
discovered a large village, and that the warriors were to prepare to
fight.

Immediately we moved up rapidly to Ga-va-go, and then we all advanced
toward the scout who could be seen upon a knoll far ahead. We were
cautioned to silence, and as we moved at a brisk canter over the
soft, pale lavender vegetation of the inner Moon, the feet of the Va-
gas giving forth no sound, the picture presented to my earthly eyes
was weird and mysterious in the extreme.

When we reached the scout, we learned that the village was situated
just beyond a low ridge not far distant, so Ga-va-go gave orders that
the women, the children, and the three prisoners should remain under
a small guard where we were until they had topped the ridge, when we
were to advance to a position where we might overlook the village,
and if the battle was against the No-vans we could retreat to a point
which he indicated to the warriors left to guard us. This was to be
the rendezvous, for following defeat the Va-gas warriors scatter in
all directions, thus preventing any considerable body of them being
attacked and destroyed by a larger body of the pursuing enemy.

As we stood there upon the knoll, watching Ga-va-go and his savage
warriors galloping swiftly toward the distant ridge, I could not but
wonder that the inhabitants of the village which they were about to
attack had not placed sentinels along the ridge to prevent just such
a surprise as this, but when I questioned one of the warriors who had
been left to guard us, he said that not all the Va-gas tribes were
accustomed to posting sentinels when they felt themselves reasonably
safe from attack. It had always been Ga-va-go’s custom, however, and
to it they attributed his supremacy among the other Va-gas tribes
over a large territory.

“After a tribe has made a few successful raids and returned
victorious, they are filled with pride,” the warrior explained to me,
“and presently they begin to think that no one dares to attack them
and then they grow careless, and little by little the custom of
posting sentinels drops into disuse. The very fact that they have no
sentinels indicates that they are a large, powerful and successful
tribe. We shall feed well for a long time.”

The very idea of the thought that was passing through his mind, was
repellent in the extreme, and I fairly shuddered when I contemplated
the callousness with which this creature spoke of the coming orgy, in
which he hoped to devour flesh of his own kind.

Presently we saw our force disappear beyond the ridge, and then we
too, advanced, and as we moved forward there came suddenly to us,
from the distance the fierce and savage war cry of the No-vans and a
moment later it was answered by another no less terrible, rising from
the village beyond the ridge. Our guards hastened us then, to greater
speed, until, at a full run, we mounted the steep slope of the ridge
and halted upon its crest.

Below us lay a broad valley, and in the center a long, beautiful
lake, the opposite shore of which was clothed in forest while that
nearest us was open and park-like, dotted here and there with
beautiful trees, and in this open space we descried a large village.

The ferocity of the scene below us was almost indescribable. The No-
vans warriors were circling the village at a rapid run, attempting to
keep the enemy in a compact mass within, where it would present a
better target for their spears. Already the ground was dotted with
corpses. There were no wounded, for whenever one fell the nearest to
him whether friend or foe cut his throat, since the victors would
devour them all without partiality. The females and the young had
taken refuge in the huts, from the doorways of which they watched the
progress of the battle. The defenders attempted repeatedly to break
through the circling No-vans. The warrior with whom I had been
talking told me that if they were successful the females and the
young would follow them through the break scattering in all
directions, while their warriors attempted to encircle the No-vans.
It was almost immediately evident that the advantage lay with the
force that succeeded in placing this swift-moving circle about its
enemy, and keeping the enemy within it until they had been
dispatched, for those in the racing circle presented a poor target,
while the compact mass of warriors milling in the center could scarce
be missed.

Following several unsuccessful attempts to break through the ring of
savage foemen the defenders suddenly formed another smaller ring
within, and moving in the opposite direction to the No-vans, raced in
a rapid circle. No longer did they cast spears at the enemy, but
contented themselves with leaping and bounding at a rapid gait. At
first it seemed to me that they had lost their heads with terror, but
at last I realized that they were executing a strategic maneuver
which demonstrated both cunning and high discipline. In the earlier
stages of the battle each side had depended for its weapons upon
those hurled by the opposing force, but now the defenders hurled no
weapons, and it became apparent that the No-vans would soon no longer
have spears to cast at them. The defenders were also lessening their
casualties by moving in a rapid circle in a direction opposite to
that taken by the attackers, but it must have required high courage
and considerable discipline to achieve this result since it is
difficult in the extreme to compel men to present themselves
continuously as living targets for a foe while they themselves are
permitted to inflict no injury upon the enemy.

Ga-va-go apparently was familiar with the ruse, for suddenly he gave
a loud cry which was evidently a command. Instantaneously, his entire
force wheeled in their tracks and raced in the opposite direction
paralleling the defenders of the village, and immediately thereafter
cast their remaining spears at comparatively easy targets.

The defenders, who were of the tribe called Lu-thans, wheeled
instantly to reverse the direction of their flight. Those wounded in
the sudden onslaught stumbled and fell, tripping and impeding the
others, with the result that for an instant they were a tangled mass,
without order or formation. Then it was that Ga-va-go and his No-vans
leaped in upon them with their short, wicked sword-daggers. At once
the battle resolved itself into a ferocious and bloody hand-to-hand
conflict, in which daggers and teeth and three-toed paws each did
their share to inflict injury upon an antagonist. In their efforts to
escape a blow, or to place themselves in an advantageous position,
many of the combatants leaped high into the air, sometimes between
thirty and forty feet. Their shrieks and howls were continuous and
piercing. Corpses lay piled so thick as to impede the movements of
the warriors, and the ground was slippery with blood, yet on and on
they fought, until it seemed that not a single one would be left
alive.

“It is almost over,” remarked the warrior at my side. “See, there are
two or three No-vans now attacking each Lu-than.”

It was true, and I saw that the battle could last but a short time.
As a matter of fact it ended almost immediately, the remaining Lu-
thans suddenly attempting to break away and scatter in different
directions. Some of them succeeded in escaping, possibly twenty but I
am sure that there were not more than that, and the rest fell.

Ga-va-go and his warriors did not pursue the few who had escaped,
evidently considering that it was not worth the effort, since there
were not enough of them to menace the village, and there was already
plenty of meat lying fresh and warm upon the ground.

We were summoned now, and as we filed down into the village, great
was the rejoicing of our females and young.

Guards were placed over the women and children of the defeated Lu-
thans, and then at a signal from Ga-va-go, the No-vans fell upon the
spoils of war. It was a revolting spectacle, as mothers devoured
their sons, and wives, their husbands. I do not care to dwell upon
it.

When the victors had eaten their fill, the prisoners were brought
forth under heavy guard, and divided by the Va-gas between the
surviving No-vans warriors. There was no favoritism shown in the
distribution of the prisoners, except that Ga-va-go was given first
choice, and received also those that remained after as nearly equal a
distribution as possible had been made. I had expected that the male
children would be killed, but they were not, being inducted into the
tribe upon an equal footing with those that had been born into it.

Being capable of no sentiments of either affection or loyalty, it is
immaterial to these creatures to what tribe they belong, but once
inducted into a tribe, the instinct of self-preservation holds them
to it, since they would be immediately slain by the members of any
other tribe.

I learned shortly after this engagement that Ga-va-go had lost fully
half his warriors, and that this was one of the most important
battles that the tribe had ever fought. The spoils, however, had been
rich, for they had taken over ten thousand women and fully fifty
thousand young, and great quantities of weapons, harness, and
apparel.

The flesh that they could not eat was wrapped up and buried, and I
was told that it would remain in excellent condition almost
indefinitely.




CHAPTER VII


A FIGHT AND A CHANCE


After occupying the new village, Orthis and I were separated, he
being assigned a hut close to Ga-va-go, while I was placed in another
section of the village. If I could have been said to have been on
good terms with any of the terrible creatures of the tribe, it was
with the woman who had taught me the language of the Va-gas, and it
was from her that I learned why Orthis was treated with such marked
distinction by Ga-va-go, whom, it seemed, he had promised to lead to
the land of our origin, where, he had assured the savage chieftain,
he would find flesh in abundance.

Nah-ee-lah was confined in still another part of the village, and I
only saw her occasionally, for it was evident that Ga-va-go wished to
keep the prisoners separated. Upon one occasion when I met her at the
shore of the lake I asked her why it was that they had not slain and
eaten her, and she told me that when Ga-va-go had discovered her
identity, and that her father was a Jemadar, a ruler of a great city,
he had sent messengers with an offer to return Nah-ee-lah for a
ransom of one hundred young women of the city of Laythe.

“Do you think your father will send the ransom?” I asked.

“I do not know,” she replied. “I do not see how they are going to get
a message to him, for ordinarily, my race kills the Va-gas on sight.
They may succeed, however, but even so, it is possible that my father
will not send the ransom. I would not wish him to. The daughters of
my father’s people are as dear to them, as am I to him. It would be
wrong to give a hundred of the daughters of Laythe in return for one,
even though she be the daughter of the Jemadar.”

We had drunk, and were returning toward our huts when, wishing to
prolong our conversation and to be with this pleasant companion while
I might, I suggested that we walk farther into the woods and gather
fruit. Nah-ee-lah signified her willingness, and together we strolled
out of the village into the denser woods at its rear, where we found
a particularly delicious fruit growing in abundance. I gathered some
and offered it to her, but she refused, thanking me, saying that she
had but just eaten.

“Do they bring the fruit to you,” I asked, “or do you have to come
and gather it yourself?”

“What fruit I get I gather,” she replied, “but they bring me flesh.
It is of that which I have just eaten, and so I do not care for fruit
now.”

“Flesh!” I exclaimed. “What kind of flesh?”

“The flesh of the Va-gas, of course,” she replied. “What other flesh
might a U-ga eat?”

I fear that I ill-concealed my surprise and disgust at the thought
that the beautiful Nah-ee-lah ate of the flesh of the Va-gas.

“You, too, eat of the flesh of these creatures?” I demanded.

“Why not?” she asked. “You eat flesh, do you not, in your own
country. You have told me that you raise beasts solely for their
flesh.”

“Yes,” I replied, “that is true, but we eat only the flesh of lower
orders; we do not eat the flesh of humans.”

“You mean that you do not eat the flesh of your own species,” she
said.

“Yes,” I replied, “that is what I mean.”

“Neither do I,” she said. “The Va-gas are not of the same species as
the U-ga. They are a lower order, just as are the creatures whose
flesh you eat in your own country. You have told me of beef, and of
mutton, and of pork, which you have described as creatures that run
about on four legs, like the Va-gas. What is the difference, then,
between the eating of the flesh of pork and beef or mutton, and the
eating of Va-gas, who are low creatures also?”

“But they have human faces!” I cried, “and a spoken language.”

“You had better learn to eat them,” she said, “otherwise you will eat
no flesh in Va-nah.”

The more I thought about it the more reason I saw in her point of
view. She was right. She was no more transgressing any natural law in
eating the flesh of the Va-gas than do we, eating the flesh of
cattle. To her the Va-gas were less than cattle. They were dangerous
and hated enemies. The more I analyzed the thing, the more it seemed
to me that we humans of the earth were more surely transgressing a
natural law by devouring our domestic animals, many of which we
learned to love, than were the U-ga of Va-nah in devouring the flesh
of their four-footed foes, the Va-gas. Upon our earthly farms we
raise calves and sheep and little pigs, and oftentimes we become
greatly attached to individuals and they to us. We gain their
confidence, and they have implicit trust in us, and yet, when they
are of the right age, we slay and devour them. Presently it did not
seem either wrong or unnatural that Nah-ee-lah should eat the flesh
of the Va-gas, but as for myself, I could never do it, nor ever did.

We had left the forest, and were returning to the village to our huts
when, near the large hut occupied by Ga-va-go, we came suddenly upon
Orthis. At the sight of us together he scowled.

“If I were you,” he said to me, “I would not associate with her too
much. It may arouse the displeasure of Ga-va-go.”

It was the first time that Orthis had spoken to me since we had
occupied this village. I did not like his tone or his manner.

“You will please to mind your own business, Orthis,” I said to him,
and continued on with Nah-ee-lah. I saw the man’s eyes narrow
malignantly, and then he turned, and entered the hut of Ga-va-go, the
chief of the No-vans.

Every time I went to the river, I had to pass in the vicinity of Nah-
ee-lah’s hut. It was a little out of my way, but I always made the
slight detour in the hope of meeting her, though I had never entered
her hut nor called for her, since she had never invited me and
realizing her position, I did not wish to intrude. I was of course
ignorant of the social customs of her people, and feared offending
her accidentally.

It chanced that the next time that I walked down to the lake shore,
following our stroll in the woods, I made my usual detour that I
might pass by the hut of Nah-ee-lah. As I came near I heard voices,
one of which I recognized as that of Nah-ee-lah, and the other, a
man’s voice. The girl’s tones were angry and imperious.

“Leave my presence, creature!” were the first words that I could
distinguish, and then the man’s voice.

“Come,” he said, ingratiatingly. “Let us be friends. Come to my hut,
and you will be safe, for Ga-va-go is my friend.” The voice was the
voice of Orthis.

“Go!” she ordered him again. “I would as soon lie with Ga-va-go as
with you.”

“Know then,” cried Orthis, angrily, “that you will go, whether you
wish it or not, for Ga-va-go has given you to me. Come!” and then he
must have seized her, for I heard her cry out, “How dare you lay
hands upon me, Nah-ee-lah, princess of Laythe!”

I was close beside the entrance to the hut now, and I did not wait to
hear any more, but thrusting the hanging aside entered. There they
were, in the center of the single room, Orthis struggling to drag the
girl toward the opening while she resisted and struck at him. Orthis’
back was toward me and he did not know that there was another in the
hut until I had stepped up behind him and grasping him roughly by the
shoulder, had jerked him from the girl and swung him about facing me.

“You cad,” I said, “get out of here before I kick you out, and don’t
ever let me hear of you molesting this girl again.” His eyes
narrowed, and he looked at me with an ugly light in them. “Since
boyhood, you have cheated me out of all that I wished. You ruined my
life on Earth, but now, conditions are reversed. The tables are
turned. Believe me, then, when I tell you that if you interfere with
me you sign your own death warrant. It is only by my favor that you
live at all. If I gave the word Ga-va-go would destroy you at once.
Go then to your hut and stop your meddling in the affairs of others—a
habit that you developed in a most flagrant degree on Earth, but
which will avail you nothing here within the Moon. The woman is mine.
Ga-va-go has given her to me. Even if her father should fail to send
the ransom her life shall be spared as long as I desire her. Your
interference then can only result in your death, and do her no good,
for provided you are successful in keeping me from her, you would be
but condemning her to death in the event that her father does not
send the ransom, and Ga-va-go has told me that there is little
likelihood of that, since it is scarcely possible that his messengers
will be able to deliver Ga-va-go’s demands to Sagroth.”

“You have heard him,” I said, turning to the girl. “What are your
wishes in the matter. Perhaps he speaks the truth.”

“I have no doubt but that he speaks the truth,” she replied, “but
know, strangers, that the honor of a princess of Laythe is dearer
than her life.”

“Very well, Orthis,” I said to the man. “You have heard her. Now get
out.”

He was almost white with anger, and for a moment I thought that he
was going to attack me, but he was ever a coward, and contenting
himself with giving me a venomous look, he walked from the hut
without another word.

I turned to Nah-ee-lah, after the hanging had dropped behind Orthis.
“It is too bad,” I said, “that with all your suffering at the hands
of the Va-gas, you should also be annoyed by one who is practically
of your own species.”

“Your kindness more than compensates,” she replied graciously. “You
are a brave man, and I am afraid that you are going to suffer for
your protection of me. This man is powerful. He has made wonderful
promises to Ga-va-go. He is going to teach him how to use the strange
weapons that you brought from your own world. The woman who brings me
my meat told me of all this, and that the tribe is much excited by
the promises that your friend has made to Ga-va-go. He will teach
them to make the weapons, such as you slew their warriors with, so
that they will be invincible, and may go abroad in Va-nah slaying all
who oppose them and even raiding the cities of the U-ga. He has told
them that he will lead them to the strange thing which brought you
from your world to Va-nah, and that there they will find other
weapons, like those that you carried, and having the noise which they
make, and the things with which they kill. All these he says they may
have, and that later he will build other things, such as brought you
from your world to Va-nah, and he will take Ga-va-go and all the No-
vans to what you call Earth.”

“If there is any man in the universe who might do it, it is he,” I
replied, “but there is little likelihood that he can do it. He is
merely deceiving Ga-va-go in the hope of prolonging his own life,
against the possibility that an opportunity to escape will develop,
in which event he will return to our ship and our friends. He is a
bad man though, Nah-ee-lah, and you must be careful of him. There is
a vacant hut near yours, and I will come and live in it. There is no
use in asking Ga-va-go, for if he is friendly with Orthis, he will
not permit me to make the change. If you ever need me, call ‘Julian’
as loud as you can, and I will come.”

“You are very good,” she said. “You are like the better men of
Laythe, the high nobles of the court of the Jemadar, Sagroth, my
father. They too are honorable men, to whom a woman may look for
protection, but there are no others in all Va-nah since the Kalkars
arose thousands of kelds ago, and destroyed the power of the nobles
and the Jemadars, and all the civilization that was Va-nah’s. Only in
Laythe, have we preserved a semblance of the old order. I wish I
might take you to Laythe, for there you would be safe and happy. You
are a brave man. It is strange that you are not married.”

I was upon the point of making some reply, when the hangings at the
doorway parted, and a No-van warrior entered. Behind him were three
others. They were walking erect, with drawn spears.

“Here he is,” said the leader, and then, addressing me, “Come!”

“Why?” I asked. “What do you want of me?”

“Is it for you to question,” he demanded, “when Ga-va-go commands?”

“He has sent for me?” I asked.

“Come!” repeated the leader, and an instant later they had hooked
their spears about my arms and neck and none too gently they dragged
me from the hut. I had something of a presentiment that this was to
be the end. At the doorway I half turned to glance back at the girl.
She was standing wide-eyed and tense, watching them drag me away.

“Good-bye—Julian,” she said. “We shall never meet again for there is
none to carry our souls to a new incarnation.”

“We are not dead yet,” I called back, “and remember if you need me
call me,” and then the hanging dropped behind us, and she was shut
off from my vision.

They did not take me to my own hut, but to another, not far distant
from Nah-ee-lah’s, and there they bound my hands and feet with strips
of leather and threw me upon the ground. Afterwards they left me,
dropping the hanging before the entrance. I did not think that they
would eat me, for Orthis had joined with me in explaining to Ga-va-go
and the others that our flesh was poisonous, and though they may have
questioned the veracity of our statements, nevertheless I was quite
sure that they would not risk the chance of our having told the
truth.

The Va-gas obtain their leather by curing the hides of their dead.
The better portions they use for their trappings and harness. The
other portions they cut into thin strips, which they use in lieu of
rope. Most of this is very strong, but some of it is not, especially
that which is improperly cured.

The warriors who had been sent to seize me had scarcely left the hut
before I commenced working with my bonds in an attempt to loosen or
break them. I exerted all my strength in the effort, until I became
sure that those which held my hands were stretching. The effort,
however, was very tiring, and I had to stop often and rest. I do not
know how long I worked at them, but it must have been a very long
time before I became convinced that however much they gave they were
not going to break. Just what I intended to do with my freedom I do
not know, since there was little or no chance that I might escape
from the village. Perpetual daylight has its disadvantages, and this
was one of them, that there was no concealing nocturnal darkness
during which I might sneak away from the village unseen.

As I lay resting after my exertions, I suddenly became aware of a
strange, moaning sound from without, and then the hut shook, and I
realized that another storm had come. Soon after I heard the beat of
rain drops on the roof, and then a staggering, deafening peal of
lunar thunder. As the storm waxed in violence, I could imagine the
terror of the No-vans, nor even in my plight could I resist the
desire to smile at their discomfiture. I knew that they must all be
hiding in their huts, and again I renewed my efforts to break the
bonds at my wrists, but all to no avail; and then suddenly, above the
moaning of the wind and the beating of the rain, there came
distinctly to my ears in a clear, full voice, a single word:
“Julian!”

“Nah-ee-lah,” I thought. “She needs me. What are they doing to her?”
There flashed quickly before my mental vision a dozen scenes, in each
of which I saw the divine figure of the Moon Maid, the victim of some
fiendish brutality. Now she was being devoured by Ga-va-go; now some
of the females were tearing her to pieces, and again the warriors
were piercing that beautiful skin with their cruel spears; or it was
Orthis, come to claim Ga-va-go’s gift. It was this last thought, I
think, which turned me almost mad, giving to my muscles the strength
of a dozen men. I have always been accounted a powerful man, but in
the instant that that sweet voice came across the storm to find me,
and my imagination pictured her in the clutches of Orthis, something
within moved me to Herculean efforts far transcending aught that I
had previously achieved. As though they had been cotton twine now,
the leather bonds at my wrists snapped asunder, and an instant later
those at my ankles were torn away, and I was upon my feet. I sprang
to the door and into the open, where I found myself in a maelstrom of
wind and rain. In two bounds I had cleared the space between the hut
in which I had been confined and that occupied by Nah-ee-lah, had
torn the hanging aside, and had sprung into the interior; and there I
beheld the materialization of my last vision—there was Orthis, one
arm about the slender body of the girl pinning her arms close to her
side, while his other hand was at her throat, choking her and
pressing her slowly backward across his knees toward the ground.

He was facing the door this time, and saw me enter, and as he
realized who it was, he hurled the girl roughly from him and rose to
meet me. For once in his life he seemed to know no fear, and I think
that what with his passion for the girl, and the hatred he felt for
me, and the rage that my interference must have engendered, he was
momentarily insane, for he suddenly leaped upon me like a madman, and
for an instant I came near going down beneath his blows—but only for
an instant, and then I caught him heavily upon the chin with my left
fist, and again, full in the face with my right, and though he was a
splendid boxer, he was helpless in my hands. Neither of us had a
weapon, or one of us certainly would have been killed in short order.
As it was I tried to kill him with my bare fists, and at last, when
he had fallen for the dozenth time, and I had picked him up and held
him upon his feet and struck him repeatedly again and again, he no
longer moved. I was sure that he was dead, and it was with a feeling
of relief and of satisfaction in a duty well performed that I looked
down upon his lifeless body. Then I turned to Nah-ee-lah.

“Come,” I said, “there has been given to us this chance for escape.
Never again may such a fortuitous combination of circumstances arise.
The Va-gas will be hiding in their huts, crouching in terror of the
storm. I do not know whither we may fly, but wherever it be, we can
be in no greater danger than we are here.”

She shuddered a little at the thought of going out into the terrors
of the storm. Though not so fearful of it as the ignorant Va-gas, she
still feared the wrath of the elements, as do all the inhabitants of
Va-nah, but she did not hesitate, and as I stretched out a hand, she
placed one of hers within it, and together we stepped out into the
swirling rain and wind.




CHAPTER VIII


A FIGHT WITH A TOR-HO


Nah-ee-lah and I passed through the village of the No-vans
undetected, since the people of Ga-va-go were cowering in their huts,
terror-stricken by the storm. The girl led me immediately to high
ground and upward along a barren ridge toward the high mountains in
the distance. I could see that she was afraid though she tried to
hide it from me, putting on a brave front that I was sure she was far
from feeling. My respect for her increased, as I have always
respected courage, and I believe that it requires the highest courage
to do that which fills one with fear. The man who performs heroic
acts without fear is less brave than he who overcomes his cowardice.

Realizing her fear I retained her hand in mine, that the contact
might impart to her a little of the confidence that I felt, now that
I was temporarily at least out of the clutches of the Va-gas.

We had reached the ridge above the village when the thought that we
were weaponless and without means of protection overwhelmed me. I had
been in so much of a hurry to escape the village that I had
overlooked this very vital consideration. I spoke to Nah-ee-lah about
it, telling her that I had best return to the village and make an
effort to regain possession of my own weapons and ammunition. She
tried to dissuade me, telling me that such an attempt was foredoomed
to failure and prophesying that I would be recaptured.

“But we cannot cross this savage world of yours, Nah-ee-lah, without
means of protection,” I urged. “We do not know at what minute some
fierce creature may confront us—think how helpless we shall be
without weapons with which to defend ourselves.”

“There are only the Va-gas,” she said, “to fear in this part of Va-
nah. We know no other dangerous beast, except the tor-ho. They are
seldom seen. Against the Va-gas your weapons would be useless, as you
already have discovered. The risk of meeting a tor-ho is infinitely
less than that which you will incur if you attempt to enter Ga-va-
go’s hut to secure your weapons. You simply could not do it and
escape, for doubtless the dwelling of the Chief is crowded with
warriors.”

I was compelled, finally, to admit the wisdom of her reasoning and to
forego an attempt to secure my rifle and pistol, though I can assure
you that I felt lost without them, especially when thus venturing
forth into a new world so strange to me as Va-nah, and so savage. As
a matter of fact, from what I gleaned from Nah-ee-lah, there was but
a single spot upon the entire inner lunar world where she and I could
hope to be even reasonably free from danger, and that was her native
city of Laythe. Even there I should have enemies, she told me, for
her race is ever suspicious of strangers; but the friendship of the
princess would be my protection, she assured me with a friendly
pressure of the hand.

The rain and wind must have persisted for a considerable time, for
when it was finally over and we looked back through a clear
atmosphere we found that a low range of mountains lay between us and
the distant sea. We had crossed these and were upon a plateau at the
foot of the higher peaks. The sea looked very far away indeed, and we
could not even guess at the location of the No-vans village from
which we had escaped.

“Do you think they will pursue us?” I asked her.

“Yes,” she said; “they will try to find us, but it will be like
looking for a raindrop in the ocean. They are creatures of the low-
lands—I am of the mountains. Down there,” and she pointed into the
valley, “they might find me easily, but in my own mountains—no.”

“We are near Laythe?” I asked.

“I do not know. Laythe is hard to find—it is well hidden. It is for
this reason that it exists at all. Its founders were pursued by the
Kalkars, and had they not found an almost inaccessible spot they
would have been discovered and slain long before they could have
constructed an impregnable city.”

She led me then straight into the mighty mountains of the Moon, past
the mouths of huge craters that reached through the lunar crust to
the surface of the satellite, along the edges of yawning chasms that
dropped three, four, yes, sometimes five miles, sheer into frightful
gorges, and then out upon vast plateaus, but ever upward toward the
higher peaks that seemed to topple above us in the distance. The
craters, as a rule, lay in the deep gorges, but some we found upon
the plateaus, and even a few opened into the summits of mountain
peaks as do those upon the outer surface of planets. Those in the low
places were, I believe, the openings through which the original
molten lunar core was vomitted forth by the surface volcanoes upon
the outer crust.

Nah-ee-lah told me that the secret entrance to Laythe lay just below
the lip of one of these craters, and it was this she sought. To me
the quest seemed hopeless, for as far as the eye could reach lay
naught but an indescribable jumble of jagged peaks, terrific gorges
and bottomless craters. Yet always the girl seemed to find a way
among or about them—instinctively, apparently, she found trails and
footholds where there were no trails and where a chamois might have
been hard put to it to find secure footing.

In these higher altitudes we found a vegetation that differed
materially from that which grew in the lowlands. Edible fruits and
berries were, however, still sufficiently plentiful to keep us
reasonably well supplied with food. When we were tired we usually
managed to find a cave in which we could rest in comparative
security, and when it was possible to do so Nah-ee-lah always
insisted upon barricading the entrance with rocks, since there was
always the danger, she told me, of our being attacked by tor-hos.
These blood-thirsty creatures while rare, were nevertheless very much
to be feared, since not only were they voracious meat eaters and of
such a savage disposition that they attacked nearly everything they
saw in wanton ferocity, but even a minor wound inflicted by their
fangs or talons often proved fatal, because of the fact that their
principal diet was the poisonous flesh of the rympth and the flying
toad. I tried to get Nah-ee-lah to describe the creature to me, but
inasmuch as there was no creature with which we were both familiar
that she might compare it with, I learned little more from her than
that it stood between eighteen inches and two feet in height, had
long, sharp fangs, four legs and was hairless.

As an aid to climbing, as well as to give me some means of
protection, I broke a stout and rather heavy branch from one of the
mountain trees, the wood of which was harder than any that I had seen
growing in the lowlands. To roam a strange and savage world armed
only with a wooden stick seemed to me the height of rashness, but
there was no alternative until the time arrived when I might find the
materials with which to fashion more formidable weapons. I had in
mind a bow and arrows and was constantly on the lookout for wood
which I considered adapted to the former, and I also determined to
forego my cane for a spear whenever the material for the making of
one came to hand. I had little time, however, for such things, as it
seemed that when we were not sleeping we were constantly upon the
move, Nah-ee-lah becoming more and more impatient to find her native
city as the chances for so doing lessened—and it seemed to me that
they were constantly lessening. While I was quite sure that she had
no more idea where Laythe lay than I, yet we stumbled on and on and
on, through the most stupendous mountain ranges that the mind of man
can conceive, nor ever, apparently, did Nah-ee-lah discover a single
familiar landmark upon which to hang a shred of hope that eventually
we might come upon Laythe.

I never saw such a sanguine and hopeful person as Nah-ee-lah. It was
her constant belief that Laythe lay just beyond the next mountain, in
spite of the fact that she was invariably mistaken—which seemed never
to lessen the exuberance of her enthusiasm for the next guess—which I
knew beforehand was going to be a wrong guess.

Once just after we had rounded the shoulder of a mountain we came
upon a little strip of level land clinging to the clung precariously
to the side of a perpendicular cliff. And so I stood there waiting,
my feeble stick grasped in both hands. Just what I expected to do
with it I scarcely knew until the side of a mighty peak. I was in the
lead—a position which I tried always to take when it was not
absolutely necessary for Nah-ee-lah to go ahead in order to find a
trail. As I came around the shoulder of the mountain, and in full
sight of the little level area, I was positive that I saw a slight
movement among some bushes at my right about halfway along one side
of the little plain.

As we came abreast of the spot, upon which I kept my eye, there broke
upon our ears the most hideous scream that I have ever heard, and
simultaneously there leaped from the concealment of the bushes a
creature about the size of a North American mountain lion, though
quite evidently a reptile and probably a tor-ho, as such it proved to
be. There was something about the head and face which suggested the
cat family to me, yet there was really no resemblance between it and
any of the earthly felines. It came at me with those terrible curved
fangs bared and bristling and as it came it emitted the most
terrifying sounds—I have called them screams, because that word more
nearly describes them than any other, and yet they were a combination
of shrieks and moans—the most blood-curdling that I have ever heard.

Nah-ee-lah grasped my arm. “Run!” she cried, “run.” But I shook her
loose and stood my ground. I wanted to run, that I will admit, but
where to? The creature was covering the ground at tremendous speed
and our only avenue of escape was the narrow trail over which we had
just come, when the tor-ho was upon me. Then I swung for its head as a
batter swings for a pitched ball. I struck it square upon the nose—a
terrific blow that not only stopped it, but felled it. I could hear
the bones crushing beneath the impact of my crude weapon and I
thought that I had done for the thing with that single blow, but I
did not know the tremendous vitality of the creature. Almost
instantly it was up and at me again, and again I struck it, this time
upon the side of the head, and again I heard bones crush and again it
fell heavily to the ground.

What appeared to be cold blood was oozing slowly from its wounded
face as it came at me for the third time, its eyes glaring hideously,
its broken jaws agape to seize me, while its shrieks and moans rose
to a perfect frenzy of rage and pain. It reared up and struck at me
with its talons now, but I met it again with my bludgeon and this
time I broke a fore leg.

How long I fought that awful thing I cannot even guess. Time and time
again it charged me furiously and each time, though often in but a
miracle of fortune, I managed to keep it from closing, and each blow
that I delivered crushed and maimed it a little more, until at last
it was nothing but a bleeding wreck of pulp, still trying to crawl
toward me upon its broken legs and seize me and drag me down with its
broken, toothless jaws. Even then it was with the greatest difficulty
that I killed it, that I might put it out of its misery.

Rather exhausted, I turned to look for Nah-ee-lah, and much to my
surprise, I found her standing directly behind me.

“I thought you had run away,” I said.

“No,” she said, “you did not run and so I did not, but I never
thought that you would be able to kill it.”

“You thought that it would kill me, then?” I asked.

“Certainly,” she replied. “Even now I cannot understand how you were
able to overcome a tor-ho with that pitiful little stick of wood.”

“But if you thought I was going to be killed,” I insisted, “why was
it that you did not seek safety in flight?”

“If you had been killed I should not have cared to live,” she said
simply.

I did not exactly understand her attitude and scarcely knew what
reply to make.

“It was very foolish of you,” I said at last, rather blunderingly,
“and if we are attacked again you must run and save yourself.”

She looked at me for a moment with a peculiar expression upon her
face which I could not interpret and then turned and resumed her way
in the direction in which we had been traveling when our journey had
been interrupted by the tor-ho. She did not say anything, but I felt
that I had offended her and I was sorry. I did not want her falling
in love with me, though, and according to earthly standards, her
statement that she would rather die than live without me might
naturally have been interpreted as a confession of love. The more I
thought of it, however, as we moved along in silence, the more
possible it seemed to me that her standards might differ widely from
mine and that I was only proving myself to be an egotistical ass in
assuming that Nah-ee-lah loved me. I wished that I might explain
matters to her, but it is one of those things that is rather
difficult to explain, and I realized that it might be made much worse
if I attempted to do so.

We had been such good friends and our fellowship had been so perfect
that the apparently strained silence which existed between us was
most depressing. Nah-ee-lah had always been a talkative little person
and always gay and cheerful, even under the most trying conditions.

I was rather tired out after my encounter with the tor-ho and should
have liked to stop for a rest, but I did not suggest it, neither did
Nah-ee-lah, and so we continued on our seemingly interminable way,
though, almost exhausted as I was, I dropped some little distance
behind my beautiful guide.

She was quite out of sight ahead of me upon the winding trail when
suddenly I heard her calling my name aloud. I answered her as,
simultaneously, I broke into a run, for I did not know but what she
might be in danger, though her voice did not sound at all like it.
She was only a short distance ahead and when I came in sight of her I
saw her standing at the edge of a mighty crater. She was facing me
and she was smiling.

“Oh, Julian,” she cried, “I have found it. I am home and we are safe
at last.”

“I am glad, Nah-ee-lah,” I said. “I have been much worried on account
of the dangers to which you have been constantly subjected, as well
as because of a growing fear that you would never be able to find
Laythe.”

“Oh, my!” she exclaimed, “I knew that I would find it. If I had to
hunt through every mountain range in Va-nah I would have found it.”

“You are quite sure that this is the crater where lies the entrance
to Laythe?” I asked her.

“There is no doubt of it, Julian,” she replied, and she pointed
downward over the lip of the crater toward a narrow ledge which lay
some twenty feet below and upon which I saw what appeared to be the
mouth of a cave opening into the crater.

“But, how are we going to reach it?” I asked.

“It may be difficult,” she replied, “but we will find a way.”

“I hope so, Nah-ee-lah,” I said, “but without a rope or wings I do
not see how we are going to accomplish it.”

“In the mouth of the tunnel,” explained Nah-ee-lah, “there are long
poles, each of which has a hook at one end. Ages ago there were no
other means of ingress or egress to the city and those who came out
to hunt or for any other purpose came through this long tunnel from
the city, and from the ledge below they raised their poles and placed
the hooked ends over the rim of the crater, after which it was a
simple matter to clamber up or down the poles as they wished; but it
has been long since these tunnels were used by the people of Va-nah,
who had no further need of them after the perfection of the flying
wings which you saw me using when I was captured by the Va-gas.”

“If they used poles, so may we,” I said, “since there are plenty of
young trees growing close to the rim of the crater. The only
difficulty will be in felling one of them.”

“We can do that,” said Nah-ee-lah, “if we can find some sharp
fragments of stone. It will be slow work, but it can be done,” and
she started immediately to hunt for a fragment with a cutting edge. I
joined her in the search and it was not long before we had discovered
several pieces of obsidian with rather sharp edges. We then started
to work upon a young tree about four inches in diameter that grew
almost straight for a height of some thirty feet.

Cutting the tree down with our bits of lava glass was tedious work,
but finally it was accomplished, and we were both much elated when
the tree toppled and fell to the ground. Cutting away the branches
occupied almost as long a time, but that, too, was finally
accomplished. The next problem which confronted us was that of making
the top of the pole secure enough to hold while we descended to the
ledge before the mouth of the tunnel. We had no rope and nothing with
which to fashion one, other than my garments, which I was loth to
destroy, inasmuch as in these higher altitudes it was often cold.
Presently, however, I hit upon a plan which, if Nah-ee-lah’s muscles
and my nerves withstood the strain it put upon them, bade fair to
assure the success of our undertaking. I lowered the larger end of
the pole over the side of the crater until the butt rested upon the
ledge before the mouth of the tunnel. Then I turned to Nah-ee-lah.

“Lie down flat at full length, Nah-ee-lah,” I directed her, “and hold
this pole securely with both hands. You will only have to keep it
from toppling to the sides or outward, and to that, I think, your
strength is equal. While you hold it, I will descend to the mouth of
the tunnel and raise one of the regular hooked poles which you say
should be deposited there. If they are not, I believe that I can hold
our own pole securely from below while you descend.” She looked over
into the vast abyss below and shuddered. “I can hold it at the top,”
she said, “if the bottom does not slip from the ledge.”

“That is a chance that I shall have to take,” I replied, “but I will
descend very carefully and I think there will be little danger upon
that score.”

I could see, upon a more careful examination of the ledge below, that
there was some danger of an accident such as she suggested.

Nah-ee-lah took her position as I had directed and lay grasping the
pole securely in both hands at the rim of the crater, which was
absolutely perpendicular at this point, and I prepared to make the
perilous descent.

I can assure you that my sensations were far from pleasurable as I
looked over into that awful abyss. The crater itself was some four or
five miles in diameter, and, as I had every reason to suspect,
extended fully two hundred and fifty miles through the lunar crust to
the surface of the Moon. It was one of the most impressive moments of
my life as I clung balancing upon the edge of that huge orifice,
gazing into the silent, mysterious depths below. And then I seized
the pole very gently and lowered myself over the edge.

“Courage, Julian!” whispered Nah-ee-lah; “I shall hold very tight.”

“I shall be quite safe, Nah-ee-lah,” I assured her. “I must be safe,
for if I am not, how are you to reach the ledge and Laythe?”

As I descended very slowly I tried not to think at all, but to
exclude from my mind every consideration of the appalling depths
beneath me. I could not have been more than two feet from the ledge
when the very thing that we both tried so hard to guard against
transpired—a splintered fragment of the pole’s butt crumpled beneath
my weight and that slight jar was just sufficient to start the base
of my precarious ladder sliding toward the edge of the narrow
projection upon which I had rested it, and beyond which lay eternity.
Above me I heard a slight scream and then the pole slipped from the
ledge and I felt myself falling.

It was over in an instant. My feet struck the ledge and I threw
myself within the mouth of the tunnel. And then, above me, I heard
Nah-ee-lah’s voice crying in agonized tones:

“Julian! Julian! I am falling!”

Instantly I sprang to my feet and peered upward from the mouth of the
tunnel upon a sight that froze my blood, so horrifying did it seem,
for there above me, still clinging to the pole, hung Nah-ee-lah, her
body, with the exception of her legs, completely over the edge of the
crater. Just as I looked up she dropped the pole and although I made
a grab for it I missed it and it fell past me into the maw of the
crater.

“Julian! Julian! You are safe!” she cried; “I am glad of that. It
terrified me so when I thought you were falling and I tried my best
to hold the pole, but your weight dragged me over the edge of the
crater. Good-bye, Julian, I cannot hold on much longer.”

“You must, Nah-ee-lah!” I cried; “do not forget the hooked poles that
you told me of. I will find one and have you down in no time.” And
even as I spoke I turned and dove into the tunnel; but my heart stood
still at the thought that the poles might not be there. My first
glance revealed only the bare rock of walls and floor and ceiling and
no hooked poles in sight. I sprang quickly farther into the tunnel
which turned abruptly a few yards ahead of me and just around the
bend my eyes were gladdened by the sight of a dozen or more of the
poles which Nah-ee-lah had described. Seizing one of them, I ran
quickly back to the entrance. I was almost afraid to look up, but as
I did so I was rewarded by the sight of Nah-ee-lah’s face smiling
down at me—she could smile even in the face of death, could Nah-ee-
lah.

“Just a moment more, Nah-ee-lah!” I cried to her, as I raised the
pole and caught the hook upon the crater’s rim. There were small
protuberances on either side of the pole for its entire length, which
made climbing it comparatively simple.

“Make haste, Julian!” she cried, “I am slipping.”

It wasn’t necessary for her to tell me to make haste. I think that I
never did anything more quickly in my life than I climbed that pole,
but I reached her not an instant too soon, for even as my arm slipped
about her, her hold upon the ledge above gave way, and she came down
head foremost upon me. I had no difficulty in catching her and
supporting her weight. My only fear was that the hook above might not
sustain the added weight under the strain of her falling body. But it
held, and I blessed the artisan who had made it thus strong.

A moment later I had descended to the mouth of the tunnel and drawn
Nah-ee-lah into the safety of its interior. My arm was still around
her and hers about me as she stood there sobbing upon my breast. She
was utterly relaxed and her supple body felt so helpless against me
that there was suddenly aroused within me a feeling such as I had
never experienced before—a rather indescribable feeling, yet one
which induced, seemingly, an irresistible and ridiculous desire to go
forth and slay whole armies of men in protection of this little Moon
Maid. It must have been a sudden mental reversion to some ancient
type of crusading ancestor of the Middle Ages—some knight in armor
from whose loins I had sprung, transmitting to me his own flamboyant,
yet none the less admirable, chivalry. The feeling rather surprised
me, for I have always considered myself more or less practical and
hard-headed. But more sober thought finally convinced me that it was
but a nervous reaction from the thrilling moments through which we
had both just passed, coupled with her entire helplessness and
dependence upon me. Be that as it may, I disengaged her arms from
about my neck as gently and as quickly as I could and lowered her
carefully to the floor of the tunnel, so that she sat with her back
leaning against one of the walls.

“You are very brave, Julian,” she said, “and very strong.”

“I am afraid I am not very brave,” I told her. “I am almost weak from
fright even now—I was so afraid that I would not reach you in time,
Nah-ee-lah.”

“It is the brave man who is afraid after the danger is past,” she
said. “He has no time to think of fear until after the happening is
all over. You may have been afraid for me, Julian, but you could not
have been afraid for yourself, or otherwise you would not have taken
the risk of catching me as I fell. Even now I cannot understand how
you were able to hold me.”

“Perhaps,” I reminded her, “I am stronger than the men of Va-nah, for
my earthly muscles are accustomed to overcoming a gravity six times
as great as that upon your world. Had this same accident happened
upon Earth I might not have been able to hold you when you fell.”




CHAPTER IX


AN ATTACK BY KALKARS


The tunnel in which I found myself and along which Nah-ee-lah led me
toward the city of Laythe was remarkable in several particulars. It
was largely of natural origin, seemingly consisting of a series of
caves which may have been formed by bubbles in the cooling lava of
the original molten flow and which had later been connected by man to
form a continuous subterranean corridor. The caves themselves were
usually more or less spherical in shape and the debris from the
connecting passageways had been utilized to fill the bottoms of them
to the level of the main floor of the passageway. The general trend
of the tunnel was upward from the point at which we had entered it,
and there was a constant draught of air rushing along it in the same
direction in which we were moving, assuring me that it was
undoubtedly well ventilated for its full length. The walls and
ceiling were coated with a substance of which radium was evidently
one of the ingredients, since even after we had lost sight of the
entrance the passageway was well illuminated. We had been moving
along in silence for quite a little distance when I finally addressed
Nah-ee-lah.

“It must seem good,” I said, “to travel again this familiar tunnel of
your native city. I know how happy I should be were I thus
approaching my own birthplace.”

“I am glad to be returning to Laythe,” she said, “for many reasons,
but for one I am sorry, and as for this passageway it is scarcely
more familiar to me than to you, since I have traversed it but once
before in my life and that when I was a little girl and came here
with my father and his court upon the occasion of his periodical
inspection of the passageway, which is now practically never used.”

“If you are not familiar with the tunnel,” I asked, “are you sure
that there is no danger of our going astray at some fork or branch?”

“There is but the one passageway,” she replied, “which leads from the
crater to Laythe.”

“And how long is the tunnel?” I asked. “Will we soon enter the city?”

“No,” she replied, “it is a great distance from the crater to
Laythe.”

We had covered some little distance at this time, possibly five or
six miles, and she had scarcely ceased speaking when a turn in the
passageway led us into a cave of larger proportions than any through
which we had previously passed and from the opposite side of which
two passageways diverged.

“I thought there were no branches,” I remarked.

“I do not understand it,” she said. “There is no branch from the
tunnel of Laythe.”

“Could it be possible that we are in the wrong tunnel?” I asked, “and
that this does not lead to Laythe?”

“A moment before I should have been sure that we were in the right
tunnel,” she replied, “but now, Julian, I do not know, for never had
I heard of any branch of our own tunnel.”

We had crossed the cave and were standing between the openings of the
two divergent passageways.

“Which one shall we take?” I asked, but again she shook her head.

“I do not know,” she replied.

“Listen!” I cautioned her. “What was that?” For I was sure that I had
heard a sound issuing from one of the tunnels. We stood peering into
an aperture which revealed about a hundred yards of the passageway
before an abrupt turn hid the continuation of it from our view. We
could hear what now resolved itself into the faint sound of voices
approaching us along the corridor, and then quite suddenly the figure
of a man appeared around the corner of the turn. Nah-ee-lah leaped to
one side out of sight, drawing me with her.

“A Kalkar!” she whispered. “Oh, Julian, if they find us we are lost.”

“If there is only one of them I can take care of him,” I said.

“There will be more than one,” she replied; “there will be many.”

“Then, let us return the way we came and make our way to the top of
the crater’s rim before they discover us. We can throw their hooked
poles into the crater, including the one which we use to ascend from
the mouth of the tunnel, thus effectually preventing any pursuit.”

“We cannot cross this room again to the tunnel upon the opposite side
without being apprehended,” she replied. “Our only hope is in hiding
in this other tunnel until they have passed and trusting to chance
that we meet no one within it.”

“Come, then,” I said. “I dislike the idea of flying like a scared
rabbit, but neither would there be any great wisdom in facing armed
men without a single weapon of defense.”

Even as we had whispered thus briefly together, we found the voices
from the other tunnel had increased and I thought that I noted a tone
of excitement in them, though the speakers were still too far away
for us to understand their words. We moved swiftly up the branch
tunnel, Nah-ee-lah in the lead, and after passing the first turn we
both felt comparatively safe, for Nah-ee-lah was sure that the men
who had interrupted our journey were a party of hunters on their way
to the outer world by means of the crater through which we had
entered the tunnel and that they would not come up the branch in
which we were hiding. Thus believing, we halted after we were safely
out of sight and hearing of the large cave we had just left.

“That man was a Kalkar,” said Nah-ee-lah, “which means that we are in
the wrong tunnel and that we must retrace our steps and continue our
search for Laythe upon the surface of the ground.” Her voice sounded
tired and listless, as though hope had suddenly deserted her brave
heart. We were standing shoulder to shoulder in the narrow corridor
and I could not resist the impulse to place an arm about her and
comfort her.

“Do not despair, Nah-ee-lah,” I begged her; “we are no worse off than
we have been and much better off than before we escaped the Va-gas of
Ga-va-go. Then do you not recall that you mentioned one drawback to
your return to Laythe—that you might be as well off here as there?
What was the reason, Nah-ee-lah?”

“Ko-tah wants me in marriage,” she replied. “Ko-tah is very powerful.
He expects one day to be Jemadar of Laythe. This he cannot be while I
live unless he marries me.”

“Do you wish to marry him?” I asked.

“No,” she said; “not now. Before—” she hesitated—“before I left
Laythe I did not care so very much; but now I know that I cannot wed
with Ko-tah.”

“And your father,” I continued, “what of him—will he insist that you
marry Ko-tah?”

“He cannot do otherwise,” replied Nah-ee-lah, “for Ko-tah is very
powerful. If my father refuses to permit me to marry him Ko-tah may
overthrow him, and when my father is dead, should I still refuse to
marry Ko-tah he may slay me, also, and then become Jemadar easily,
for the blood of Jemadars flows in his veins.”

“It appears to me, Nah-ee-lah, that you will be about as badly off at
home as anywhere else in Va-nah. It is too bad that I cannot take you
to my own Earth, where you would be quite safe, and I am sure,
happy.”

“I wish that you might, Julian,” she replied simply.

I was about to reply when she placed slim fingers upon my lips.
“Hush, Julian!” she whispered, “they are following us up this
corridor. Come quickly, we must escape before they overtake us,” and
so saying, she turned and ran quickly along the corridor which led
neither of us knew whither.

But we were soon to find out, for we had gone but a short distance
when we came to the tunnel’s end in a large circular chamber, at one
end of which was a rostrum upon which were a massive, elaborately
carved desk and a chair of similar design. Below the rostrum were
arranged other chairs in rows, with a broad aisle down the center.
The furniture, though of peculiar design and elaborately carved with
strange figures of unearthly beasts and reptiles, was not, for all of
that, markedly dissimilar to articles of the same purpose fabricated
upon Earth. The chairs had four legs, high backs and broad arms,
seeming to have been designed equally for durability, service, and
comfort.

I glanced quickly around the apartment, as we first entered, only
taking in the details later, but I saw that there was no other
opening than the one through which we had entered.

“We will have to wait here, Nah-ee-lah,” I said. “Perhaps, though,
all will be well—the Kalkars may prove friendly.”

She shook her head negatively. “No,” she said, “they will not be
friendly.”

“What will they do to us?” I asked.

“They will make slaves of us,” she replied, “and we shall spend the
balance of our lives working almost continuously until we drop with
fatigue under the cruelest of taskmakers, for the Kalkars hate us of
Laythe and will hesitate at nothing that will humiliate or injure
us.”

She had scarcely ceased speaking when there appeared in the entrance
of the cave the figure of a man about my own height dressed in a
tunic similar to Nah-ee-lah’s but evidently made of leather. He
carried a knife slung in a scabbard depending from a shoulder belt,
and in his right hand he grasped a slender lance. His eyes were close
set upon either side of a prominent, hooked nose. They were watery,
fishy, blue eyes, and the hair growing profusely above his low
forehead was flaxen in color. His physique was admirable, except for
a noticeable stoop. His feet were very large and his gait awkward
when he moved. Behind him I could see the heads and shoulders of
others. They stood there grinning at us for a moment, most
malevolently, it seemed to me, and then they entered the cave—a full
dozen of them. There were several types, with eyes and hair of
different colors, the former ranging from blue to brown, the latter
from light blond to almost black.

As they emerged from the mouth of the tunnel they spread out and
advanced slowly toward us. We were cornered like rats in a trap. How
I longed for the feel of my automatic at my hip! I envied them their
slender spears and their daggers. If I could have but these I might
have a chance at least to take Nah-ee-lah out of their clutches and
save her from the hideous fate of slavery among the Kalkars, for I
had guessed what such slavery would mean to her from the little that
she had told me, and I had guessed, too, that she would rather die
than submit to it. For my own part, life held little for me; I had
long since definitely given up any hope of ever returning to my own
world, or of finding the ship and being re-united with West and Jay
and Norton. There came upon me at that moment, however, a sense of
appreciation of the fact that since we had left the village of the No-
vans I had been far from unhappy, nor could I attribute this to aught
else than the companionship of Nah-ee-lah—a realization that
convinced me that I should be utterly miserable were she to be taken
from me now. Was I to submit supinely then, to capture and slavery
for myself and worse than death for Nah-ee-lah, with the assurance of
consequent separation from her? No. I held up my hand as a signal for
the advancing Kalkars to halt.

“Stop!” I commanded. “Before you advance farther I wish to know your
intentions toward us. We entered this tunnel, mistaking it for that
which led to the city of my companion. Permit us to depart in peace
and all will be well.”

“All will be well, anyway,” replied the leader of the Kalkars. “You
are a strange creature, such as I have never before seen in Va-nah.
Of you we know nothing except that you are not of the Kalkars, and
therefore an enemy of the Kalkars, but this other is from Laythe.”

“You will not permit us to go in peace, then?” I demanded.

He laughed sneeringly. “Nor in any other way,” he said.

I had been standing in the aisle, with my hand upon one of the chairs
near the rostrum and now I turned to Nah-ee-lah who was standing
close beside me.

“Come,” I said to her, “follow me; stay close behind me.” Several of
the Kalkars were coming down the main aisle toward us, and as I
turned toward them from speaking to Nah-ee-lah, I raised the chair
which my hand had been resting upon, and swinging it quickly around
my head hurled it full in the face of the leader. As he went down Nah-
ee-lah and I ran forward, gaining a little toward the opening of the
tunnel, and then without pausing I hurled another chair and a third
and a fourth, in rapid succession. The Kalkars tried to bring us down
with their lances, but they were so busy dodging chairs that they
could not cast their weapons accurately, and even those few which
might otherwise have struck us were warded off by my rather
remarkable engines of defense.

There had been four Kalkars advancing toward us down the center
aisle. The balance of the party had divided, half of it circling the
cave to the left and the other half to the right, with the evident
intention of coming up the center aisle from behind us. This maneuver
had started just before I commenced hurling chairs at the four
directly in front of us, and now when those who had intended to take
us from the rear discovered that we were likely to make our way
through to the tunnel’s entrance, some of them sprang toward us along
the passageways between the chairs, which necessitated my turning and
devoting a moment’s attention to them. One huge fellow was in the
lead, coming across the backs of the chairs leaping from seat to
seat; and being the closest to me, he was naturally my first target.
The chairs were rather heavy and the one that I let drive at him
caught him full in the chest with an impact that brought a howl from
him and toppled him over across the backs of the chairs behind him,
where he hung limp and motionless. Then I turned my attention again
to those before us, all of whom had fallen before my massive
ammunition. Three of them lay still, but one of them had scrambled to
his feet and was in the very act of casting his lance as I looked. I
stopped the weapon with a chair and as the fellow went down I caught
a glimpse of Nah-ee-lah from the corners of my eyes as she snatched
the lance from the first Kalkar who had fallen and hurled it at
someone behind me. I heard a scream of rage and pain and then I
turned in time to see another of the Kalkars fall almost at my feet,
the lance imbedded in his heart.

The way before us was temporarily open, while the Kalkars behind us
had paused, momentarily, at least, in evident consternation at the
havoc I wrought with these unseemly weapons against which they had no
defense.

“Get two knives and two lances from those who have fallen,” I cried
to Nah-ee-lah, “while I hold these others back.” She did as I bade,
and slowly we backed toward the mouth of the tunnel. My chairs had
accounted for half our enemies when at last we stood in the opening,
each armed with a lance and a knife.

“Now run, Nah-ee-lah, as you never ran before,” I whispered to my
companion. “I can hold them off until you have reached the mouth of
the tunnel and clambered to the rim of the crater. If I am lucky, I
will follow you.”

“I will not leave you, Julian,” she replied, “we will go together or
not at all.”

“But you must, Nah-ee-lah,” I insisted, “it is for you that I have
been fighting them. What difference can it make in my fate where I am
when in Va-nah—all here are my enemies.”

She laid her hand gently upon my arm. “I will not leave you, Julian,”
she repeated, “and that is final.” The Kalkars within the room were
now advancing toward us menacingly.

“Halt!” I cried to them, “you see what fate your companions have met,
because you would not let us go in peace. That is all we ask. I am
armed now and it will be death to any who follow us.”

They paused and I saw them whispering together as Nah-ee-lah and I
backed along the corridor, a turn in which soon shut them from our
view. Then we wheeled and ran like deer along the winding passageway.
I did not feel very safe from capture at any time, but at least I
breathed a sigh of relief after we had passed the chamber from which
the Kalkars had run us into the cul-de-sac, and we had seen no sign
of any other of their kind. We heard no sound of pursuit, but that in
itself meant nothing, since the Kalkars are shod with soft leather
sandals, the material for which, like all their other leather
trappings, is made of the skins of Va-gas and of the prisoners from
Laythe.

As we came to the pile of hooked poles which marked the last turn
before the entrance of the tunnel I breathed an inward sigh of
relief. Stooping, I gathered them all in my arms, and then we ran on
to the opening into the crater, where I cast all but one of the poles
into the abyss. That which I retained I hooked over the lip of the
crater and then, turning to Nah-ee-lah, I bade her ascend.

“You should have saved two of the poles,” she said, “and then we
could have ascended together; but I will make haste and you can
follow me immediately, for we do not know but that they are pursuing
us. I cannot imagine that they will let us escape thus easily.”

Even as she spoke I heard the soft patter of sandal shod feet up the
corridor.

“Make haste, Nah-ee-lah,” I cried; “they come!”

Climbing a pole is slow work at best, but when one is suspended over
the brink of a bottomless chasm and is none too sure of the security
of the hook that is holding the pole above, one must needs move
cautiously. Yet, even so, Nah-ee-lah scrambled upward so rapidly as
to fill me with apprehension for her safety. Nor were my fears
entirely groundless, for standing in the mouth of the tunnel, where I
could keep one eye upon Nah-ee-lah and the other toward the turn
around which my pursuers would presently come in view, I saw the
girl’s hands grasp the rim of the crater at the very instant that the
hook came loose and the pole dropped past me into the abyss. I might
have caught it as it fell, but my whole mind was fixed upon Nah-ee-
lah and her grave danger. Would she be able to draw herself upward,
or would she fall? I saw her straining frantically to raise her body
above the edge of the volcano, and then from up the corridor behind
me came an exultant cry and I turned to face a brawny Kalkar who was
racing toward me.




CHAPTER X


THE CITY OF KALKARS


Now, indeed, did I have reason to curse the stupidity that had
permitted me to cast into the abyss all of the hooked poles save one,
since even this one was now lost to me and I was utterly without
means of escape from the tunnel.

As the fellow approached me at a rapid run I hurled my lance, but
being unaccustomed to the weapon, I missed, and then he was upon me,
dropping his own lance as he leaped for me, for it was evidently his
desire to take me alive and unharmed. I thought that I was going to
have him now, for I believed that I was more than a match for him,
but there are tricks in every method of attack and this lunar warrior
was evidently well schooled in his own methods of offense. He
scarcely seemed to touch me, and yet he managed to trip me and push
me simultaneously so that I fell heavily backward to the ground and
turning a little sideways as I fell, I must have struck my head
against the side of the tunnel, for that is the last that I remember
until I regained consciousness in the very cave that Nah-ee-lah and I
had reached when we saw the first of the Kalkars. I was surrounded by
a party of eight of the Kalkars, two of whom were half carrying, half
dragging me. I learned later that in the fight before the rostrum I
had killed four of their number.

The fellow who had captured me was in very good humor, doubtless
because of his success, and when he discovered that I had regained
consciousness he started to converse with me.

“You thought that you could escape from Gapth, did you?” he cried,
“but never; you might escape from the others, but not from me—no, not
from Gapth.”

“I did the principal thing that I desired to do,” I replied, wishing
to learn if Nah-ee-lah had escaped.

“What is that?” demanded Gapth.

“I succeeded in accomplishing the escape of my companion,” I replied.

He made a wry face at that. “If Gapth had been there a moment earlier
she would not have escaped, either,” he said, and by that I knew that
she had escaped, unless she had fallen back into the crater; and I
was amply repaid for my own capture if it had won freedom for Nah-ee-
lah.

“Although I did not escape this time,” I said, “I shall next time.”

He laughed a nasty laugh. “There will be no next time,” he said, “for
we are taking you to the city, and once there, there is no escape,
for this is the only avenue by which you can reach the outer world
and once within the city you never can retrace your steps to the
mouth of the tunnel.”

I was not so sure of that, myself, for my sense of direction and that
of location are very well developed within me. The degree of
perfection attained in orientation by many officers of the
International Peace Fleet has been described as almost miraculous,
and even among such as these my ability in this line was a matter of
comment. I was glad, therefore, that the fellow had warned me, since
now I should be particularly upon the watch for each slightest scrap
of information that would fix in my memory whatever route I might be
led over. From the cave in which I regained consciousness there was
but a single route to the mouth of the tunnel, but from here on into
the city I must watch every turn and fork and crossing and draw upon
the tablets of my memory an accurate and detailed map of the entire
route.

“We do not even have to confine our prisoners,” continued Gapth,
“after we have so marked them that their ownership may always be
determined.”

“How do you mark them?” I asked.

“With heated irons we make the mark of the owner here,” and he
touched my forehead just above my eyes.

“Pleasant,” I thought to myself, and then aloud: “Shall I belong to
you?”

“I do not know,” he replied, “but you will belong to whomever The
Twentyfour allot you.”

We moved on after we left the cave for a considerable period of time
in silence. I was busy making mental notes of every salient feature
that might be useful to me in retracing my steps, but I found nothing
other than a winding and gently ascending corridor, without crossings
or branches, until we reached the foot of a long flight of stone
steps at the summit of which we emerged into a large chamber in the
walls of which there must have been at least a dozen doorways, where,
to my great disappointment, I was immediately blindfolded. They
whirled me around then, but evidently it was done perfunctorily,
since it was exactly one full turn and I was halted in my tracks
facing precisely in the same direction that I had been before. This I
was positive of, for our powers of orientation are often tested in
this way in the air service. Then they marched me straight forward
across the room through a doorway directly opposite that at which I
had entered the chamber. I could tell when we left the larger chamber
and entered the corridor from the different sound which our footsteps
made. We advanced along this corridor ninety-seven paces, when we
turned abruptly to the right and at the end of thirty-three paces
emerged into another chamber, as I could easily tell again from the
sound of our footsteps the instant we crossed the threshold. They led
me about this chamber a couple of times with the evident intention of
bewildering me, but in this they did not succeed, for when they
turned again into a corridor I knew that it was the same corridor
from which I had just emerged and that I was retracing my steps. This
time they took me back thirty-three paces and then turned abruptly to
the right. I could not but smile to myself when I realized that we
were now continuing directly along the same corridor as that which we
had entered immediately after they had first blindfolded me, their
little excursion through the short corridor into the second chamber
having been but a ruse to bewilder me. A moment later, at the foot of
a flight of steps they removed the blind, evidently satisfied that
there was now no chance of my being able to retrace my steps and find
the main tunnel leading to the crater, while, as a matter of fact, I
could easily have retraced every foot of it blindfolded.

From here on we climbed interminable stairways, passed through
numerous corridors and chambers, all of which were illuminated by the
radium-bearing substance which coated their walls and ceilings, and
then we emerged suddenly upon a terrace into the open air, and I
obtained my first view of a lunar city. It was built around a crater,
and the buildings were terraced back from the rim, the terraces being
generally devoted to the raising of garden truck and the principal
fruit-bearing trees and shrubs. The city extended upward several
hundred feet, the houses, as I learned later, being built one upon
another, the great majority of them, therefore, being without windows
looking upon the outer world.

I was led along the terrace for a short distance, and during this
brief opportunity for observation I deduced that the cultivated
terraces lay upon the roofs of the tier of buildings next below. To
my right I could see the terraced steps extending downward to the rim
of the crater. Nearly all the terraces were covered with vegetation,
and in numerous places I saw what appeared to be Va-gas feeding upon
the plants, and this I later learned was the fact, and that the
Kalkars, when they are able to capture members of the race of Va-gas,
keep them in captivity and breed them as we breed cattle, for their
flesh. It is necessary, to some extent, to change the diet of the Va-
gas almost exclusively to vegetation, though this diet is
supplemented by the flesh of the Kalkars, and their Laythean slaves
who die, the Va-gas thus being compelled to serve the double purpose
of producing flesh for the Kalkars and acting as their scavengers as
well.

Upon my left were the faces of buildings, uniformly two stories in
height, with an occasional slender tower rising fifteen, twenty or
sometimes as high as thirty feet from the terraced roofs above. It
was into one of these buildings that my captors led me after we had
proceeded a short distance along the terrace, and I found myself in a
large apartment in which were a number of male Kalkars, and at a desk
facing the entrance a large, entirely bald man who appeared to be of
considerable age. To this person I was led by Gapth, who narrated my
capture and the escape of Na-ee-lah.

The fellow before whom I had been brought questioned me briefly. He
made no comment when I told him that I was from another world, but he
examined my garments rather carefully and then after a moment turned
to Gapth.

“We will hold him for questioning by The Twentyfour,” he said. “If he
is not of Va-nah he is neither Kalkar nor Laythean, and consequently,
he must be flesh of a lower order and therefore may be eaten.” He
paused a moment and fell to examining a large book which seemed to be
filled with plans upon which strange hieroglyphics appeared. He
turned over several leaves, and finally coming evidently to the page
he sought, he ran a forefinger slowly over it until it came to rest
near the center of the plat. “You may confine him here,” he said to
Gapth, “in chamber eight of the twenty-fourth section, at the seventh
elevation, and you will produce him upon orders from The Twentyfour
when next they meet,” and then to me: “It is impossible for you to
escape from the city, but if you attempt it, it may be difficult for
us to find you again immediately and when we do you will be tortured
to death as an example to other slaves. Go!”

I went; following Gapth and the others who had conducted me to the
presence of this creature. They led me back into the very corridor
from which we had emerged upon the terrace and then straight into the
heart of that amazing pile for fully half a mile, where they shoved
me roughly into an apartment at the right of the corridor with the
admonition that I stay there until I was wanted.

I found myself in a dimly lighted, rectangular room, the air of which
was very poor, and at the first glance I discovered that I was not
alone, for upon a bench against the opposite wall sat a man. He
looked up as I entered and I saw that his features were very fine and
that he had black hair like Nah-ee-lah. He looked at me for a moment
with a puzzled expression in his eyes and then he addressed me.

“You, too, are a slave?” he asked.

“I am not a slave,” I replied, “I am a prisoner.”

“It is all the same,” he said; “but from whence come you? I have
never seen your like before in Va-nah.”

“I do not come from Va-nah,” I replied, and then I briefly explained
my origin and how I came to be in his world. He did not understand
me, I am sure, for although he seemed to be, and really was, highly
intelligent, he could not conceive of any condition concerning which
he had had no experience and in this way he did not differ materially
from intelligent and highly educated Earth Men.

“And you,” I asked, at length—“you are not a Kalkar? From whence come
you?”

“I am from Laythe,” he replied. “I fell outside the city and was
captured by one of their hunting parties.”

“Why all this enmity,” I asked, “between the men of Laythe and the
Kalkars—who are the Kalkars, anyway?”

“You are not of Va-nah,” he said, “that I can see, or you would not
ask these questions. The Kalkars derive their name from a corruption
of a word meaning The Thinkers. Ages ago we were one race, a
prosperous people living at peace with all the world of Va-nah. The
Va-gas we bred for flesh, as we do today within our own city of
Laythe and as the Kalkars do within their city. Our cities, towns and
villages covered the slopes of the mountains and stretched downward
to the sea. No corner of the three oceans but knew our ships, and our
cities were joined together by a network of routes along which passed
electrically driven trains”—he did not use the word trains, but an
expression which might be liberally translated as ships of the land—
“while other great carriers flew through the air. Our means of
communication between distant points were simplified by science
through the use of electrical energy, with the result that those who
lived in one part of Va-nah could talk with those who lived in any
other part of Va-nah, though it were to the remotest ends of the
world. There were ten great divisions, each ruled by its Jemadar, and
each division vied with all the others in the service which it
rendered to its people. There were those who held high positions and
those who held low; there were those who were rich and those who were
poor, but the favors of the state were distributed equally among
them, and the children of the poor had the same opportunities for
education as the children of the rich, and there it was that our
troubles first started. There is a saying among us that no learning
is better than a little, and I can well believe this true when I
consider the history of my world, where, as the masses became a
little educated, there developed among them a small coterie that
commenced to find fault with everyone who had achieved greater
learning or greater power than they. Finally, they organized
themselves into a secret society called The Thinkers, but known more
accurately to the rest of Va-nah as those who thought that they
thought. It is a long story, for it covers a great period of time,
but the result was that, slowly at first, and later rapidly, The
Thinkers, who did more talking than thinking, filled the people with
dissatisfaction, until at last they arose and took over the
government and commerce of the entire world. The Jemadars were
overthrown and the ruling class driven from power, the majority of
them being murdered, though some managed to escape, and it was these,
my ancestors, who founded the city of Laythe. It is believed that
there are other similar cities in remote parts of Va-nah inhabited by
the descendants of the Jemadar and noble classes, but Laythe is the
only one of which we have knowledge. The Thinkers would not work, and
the result was that both government and commerce fell into rapid
decay. They not only had neither the training nor the intelligence to
develop new things, but they could not carry out the old that had
been developed for them. The arts and sciences languished and died
with commerce and government, and Va-nah fell back into barbarism.
The Va-gas saw their chance and threw off the yoke that had held them
through countless ages. As the Kalkars had driven the noble class
into the lofty mountains, so the Va-gas drove the Kalkars.
Practically every vestige of the ancient culture and commercial
advancement of Va-nah has been wiped from the face of the world. The
Laytheans have held their own for many centuries, but their numbers
have not increased.

“Many generations elapsed before the Laytheans found sanctuary in the
city of Laythe, and during that period they, too, lost all touch with
the science and advancement and the culture of the past. Nor was
there any way in which to rebuild what the Kalkars had torn down,
since they had destroyed every written record and every book in every
library in Va-nah. And so occupied are both races in eking out a
precarious existence that there is little likelihood that there will
ever again be any advancement made along these lines—it is beyond the
intellectual powers of the Kalkars, and the Laytheans are too weak
numerically to accomplish aught.”

“It does look hopeless,” I said, “almost as hopeless as our
situation. There is no escape, I imagine, from this Kalkar city, is
there?”

“No,” he said, “none whatever. There is only one avenue and we are so
confused when we are brought into the city that it would be
impossible for us to find our way out again through this labyrinth of
corridors and chambers.”

“And if we did win our way to the outer world we would be as bad off,
I presume, for we could never find Laythe, and sooner or later would
be recaptured by the Kalkars or taken by the Va-gas. Am I not right?”

“No,” he said, “you are not right. If I could reach the rim of the
crater beyond this city I could find my way to Laythe. I know the way
well, for I am one of Ko-tah’s hunters and am thoroughly familiar
with the country for great distances in all directions from Laythe.”

So this was one of Ko-tah’s men. I was glad, indeed, that I had not
mentioned Nah-ee-lah or told him of her possible escape, or of my
acquaintance with her.

“And who is Ko-tah?” I asked, feigning ignorance.

“Ko-tah is the most powerful noble of Laythe,” he replied, “some day
he will be Jemadar, for now that Nah-ee-lah, the Princess, is dead,
and Sagroth, the Jemadar, grows old, it will not be long before there
is a change.”

“And if the Princess should return to Laythe,” I asked, “would Ko-tah
still become Jemadar then, upon the death of Sagroth?”

“He would become Jemadar in any event,” replied my companion, “for
had the Princess not been carried off by the air that runs away, Ko-
tah would have married her, unless she refused, in which event she
might have died—people do die, you know.”

“You feel no loyalty, then,” I asked, “for your old Jemadar, Sagroth,
or for his daughter, the Princess?”

“On the contrary, I feel every loyalty toward them, but like many
others, I am afraid of Ko-tah, for he is very powerful and we know
that sooner or later he will become ruler of Laythe. That is why so
many of the high nobles have attached themselves to him—it is not
through love of Ko-tah, but through fear that he recruits his ranks.”

“But the Princess!” I exclaimed, “would the nobles not rally to her
defense?”

“What would be the use?” he asked. “We of Laythe do but exist in the
narrow confines of our prison city. There is no great future to which
we may look forward in this life, but future incarnations may hold
for us a brighter prospect. It is no cruelty, then, to kill those who
exist now under the chaotic reign of anarchy which has reduced Va-nah
to a wilderness.”

I partially caught his rather hopeless point of view and realized
that the fellow was not bad or disloyal at heart, but like all his
race, reduced to a state of hopelessness that was the result of ages
of retrogression to which they could see no end.

“I can find the way to the mouth of the tunnel where it opens into
the crater,” I told him. “But how can we reach it unarmed through a
city populated with our enemies who would slay us on sight?”

“There are never very many people in the chambers or corridors far
removed from the outer terraces, and if we were branded upon the
forehead, as accepted slaves are, and your apparel was not so
noticeable, we might possibly reach the tunnel without weapons.”

“Yes,” I said, “my clothes are a handicap. They would immediately
call attention to us; yet, it is worth risking, for I know that I can
find my way back to the crater and I should rather die than remain a
slave of the Kalkars.”

The truth of the matter was that I was not prompted so much by
abhorrence of the fate that seemed in store for me, as by a desire to
learn if Nah-ee-lah had escaped. I was constantly haunted by the
horrid fear that her hold upon the rim of the crater had given and
that she had fallen into the abyss below. Gapth had thought that she
had escaped, but I knew that she might have fallen without either of
us having seen her, since the pole up which she had clambered had
been fastened a little beyond the opening of the tunnel, so that, had
her hold become loosened, she would not have fallen directly past the
aperture. The more I thought of it, the more anxious I became to
reach Laythe and institute a search for her.

While we were still discussing our chances of escape, two slaves
brought us food in the shape of raw vegetables and fruit. I scanned
them carefully for weapons, but they had none, a circumstance to
which they may owe their lives. I could have used their garments, had
they been other than slaves, but I had hit upon a bolder plan than
this and must wait patiently for a favorable opportunity to put it
into practice.

After eating I became sleepy and was about to stretch out upon the
floor of our prison when my companion, whose name was Moh-goh, told
me that there was a sleeping apartment adjoining the room in which we
were, that had been set apart for us.

The doorway leading to the sleeping chamber was covered by heavy
hangings, and as I parted them and stepped into the adjoining
chamber, I found myself in almost total darkness, the walls and
ceiling of this room not having been treated with the illuminating
coating used in the corridors and apartments which they wished to
maintain in a lighted condition. I later learned that all their
sleeping apartments were thus naturally dark. In one corner of the
room was a pile of dried vegetation which I discovered must answer
the purpose of mattress and covering, should I require any. However,
I was not so particular, as I had been accustomed to only the
roughest of fare since I had left my luxurious stateroom aboard _The
Barsoom_. How long I slept I do not know, but I was awakened by Moh-
goh calling me. He was leaning over me, shaking me by the shoulder.

“You are wanted,” he whispered. “They have come to take us before The
Twentyfour.”

“Tell them to go to the devil,” I said, for I was very sleepy and
only half awake. Of course, he did not know what devil meant, but
evidently he judged from my tone that my reply was disrespectful to
the Kalkars.

“Do not anger them,” he said, “it will only make your fate the
harder. When The Twentyfour command, all must obey.”

“Who are The Twentyfour?” I demanded.

“They compose the committee that rules this Kalkar city.”

I was thoroughly awakened now and rose to my feet, following him into
the adjoining chamber, where I saw two Kalkar warriors standing
impatiently awaiting us. As I saw them a phrase leaped to my brain
and kept repeating itself: “There are but two, there are but two.”

They were across the room from us, standing by the entrance, and Moh-
goh was close to me.

“There are but two,” I whispered to him in a low voice, “you take one
and I will take the other. Do you dare?”

“I will take the one at the right,” he replied, and together we
advanced across the room slowly toward the unsuspecting warriors. The
moment that we were in reach of them we leaped for them
simultaneously. I did not see how Moh-goh attacked his man, for I was
busy with my own, though it took me but an instant to settle him, for
I struck him a single terrific blow upon the chin and as he fell I
leaped upon him, wresting his dagger from its scabbard and plunging
it into his heart before he could regain his senses from the stunning
impact of my fist. Then I turned to assist Moh-goh, only to discover
that he needed no assistance, but was already arising from the body
of his antagonist, whose throat was cut from ear to ear with his own
weapon.

“Quick!” I cried to Moh-goh, “drag them into the sleeping apartment
before we are discovered;” and a moment later we had deposited the
two corpses in the dimly lighted apartment adjoining.

“We will leave the city as Kalkar warriors,” I said, commencing to
strip the accoutrements and garments from the man I had slain.

Moh-goh grinned. “Not a bad idea,” he said. “If you can find the
route to the crater it is possible that we may yet escape.”

It took us but a few moments to effect the change, and after we had
hidden the bodies beneath the vegetation that had served us as a bed
and stepped out into the other chamber, where we could have a good
look at one another, we realized that if we were not too closely
scrutinized we might pass safely through the corridors beneath the
Kalkar city, for the Kalkars are a mongrel breed, comprising many
divergent types. My complexion, which differed outrageously from that
of either the Kalkars or the Laytheans, constituted our greatest
danger, but we must take the chance, and at least we were armed.

“Lead the way,” said Moh-goh, “and if you can find the crater I can
assure you that I can find Laythe.”

“Very good,” I said, “come,” and stepping into the corridor I moved
off confidently in the direction that I knew I should find the
passageways and stairs along which I had been conducted from the
crater tunnel. I was as confident of success as though I were
traversing the most familiar precinct of my native city.

We traveled a considerable distance without meeting anyone, and at
last reached the chamber in which I had been blindfolded. As we
entered it I saw fully a score of Kalkars lolling upon benches or
lying upon vegetation that was piled upon the floor. They looked up
as we entered, and at the same time Moh-goh stepped in front of me.

“Who are you and where are you going?” demanded one of the Kalkars.

“By order of The Twentyfour,” said Moh-goh, and stepped into the
room. Instantly I realized that he did not know in which direction to
go, and that by his hesitancy all might be lost.

“Straight ahead, straight across the room,” I whispered to him, and
he stepped out briskly in the direction of the entrance to the
tunnel. Fortunately for us, the chamber was not brilliantly lighted,
and the Kalkars were at the far end of it; otherwise they must
certainly have discovered my deception, at least, since any sort of
close inspection would have revealed the fact that I was not of Va-
nah. However, they did not halt us, though I was sure that I saw one
of them eyeing me suspiciously, and I venture to say that I took the
last twenty steps without drawing a breath.

It was quickly over, however, and we had entered the tunnel which now
led without further confusing ramifications directly to the crater.

“We were fortunate,” I said to Moh-goh.

“That we were,” he replied.

In silence, then, that we might listen for pursuit, or for the sound
of Kalkars ahead of us, we hastened rapidly along the descending
passageway toward the mouth of the tunnel where it opened into the
crater; and at last, as we rounded the last turn and I saw the light
of day ahead of me, I breathed a deep sigh of relief, though almost
simultaneously my happiness turned to despair at the sudden
recollection that there were no hooked poles here to assist us to the
summit of the crater wall. What were we to do?

“Moh-goh,” I said, turning to my companion as we halted at the end of
the tunnel, “there are no poles with which to ascend. I had forgotten
it, but in order to prevent the Kalkars from ascending after me, I
threw all but one into the abyss, and that one slipped from the rim
and was lost also, just as my pursuers were about to seize me.”

I had not told Moh-goh that I had had a companion, since it would be
difficult to answer any questions he might propound on the subject
without revealing the identity of Nah-ee-lah.

“Oh, we can overcome that,” replied my companion. “We have these two
spears, which are extremely stout, and inasmuch as we shall have
plenty of time, we can easily arrange them in some way that will
permit us to ascend to the summit of the crater. It is very fortunate
that we were not pursued.”

The Kalkars' spears had a miniature crescent-shaped hook at the base
of their point similar to the larger ones effected by the Va-gas. Moh-
goh thought that we could fasten the two spears securely together and
then catch the small hook of the upper one upon the rim of the
crater, testing its hold thoroughly before either of us attempted to
ascend. Beneath his tunic he wore a rope coiled around his waist
which he explained to me was a customary part of the equipment of all
Laytheans. It was his idea to tie one end of this around the waist of
whichever of us ascended first, the other going as far back into the
tunnel as possible and bracing himself, so that in the event that the
climber fell, he would be saved from death, though I figured that he
would get a rather nasty shaking up and some bad bruises, under the
best of circumstances.

I volunteered to go first and began fastening one end of the rope
securely about my waist while Moh-goh made the two spears fast
together with a short length that he had cut from the other end. He
worked rapidly, with deft, nimble fingers, and seemed to know pretty
well what he was doing. In the event that I reached the summit in
safety, I was to pull up the spears and then haul Moh-goh up by the
rope.

Having fastened the rope to my satisfaction, I stood as far out upon
the ledge before the entrance to the tunnel as I safely could, and
with my back toward the crater looked up at the rim twenty feet above
me, in a vain attempt to select from below, if possible, a reasonably
secure point upon which to hook the spear. As I stood thus upon the
edge of eternity, steadying myself with one hand against the tunnel
wall, there came down to me from out of the tunnel a noise which I
could not mistake. Moh-goh heard it, too, and looked at me, with a
rueful shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulders.

“Everything is against us, Earth Man,” he said, for this was the name
he had given me when I told him what my world was called.




CHAPTER XI


A MEETING WITH KO-TAH


The pursuers were not yet in sight, but I knew from the nearness of
the sound of approaching footsteps that it would be impossible to
complete the splicing of the spears, to find a secure place for the
hook above, and for me to scramble upward to the rim of the crater
and haul Moh-goh after me before they should be upon us. Our position
looked almost hopeless. I could think of no avenue of escape, and yet
I tried, and as I stood there with bent head, my eyes cast upon the
floor of the tunnel, they fell upon the neatly coiled rope lying at
my feet, one end of which was fastened securely about my waist.
Instantly there flashed into my mind a mad inspiration. I glanced up
at the overhanging rim above me. Could I do it? There was a chance—
the lesser gravity of the Moon placed the thing within the realm of
possibility, and yet by all earthly standards it was impossible. I
did not wait, I could not wait, for had I given the matter any
thought I doubt that I would have had the nerve to attempt it. Behind
me lay a cavern opening into the depths of space, into which I should
be dashed if my mad plan failed; but, what of it? Better death than
slavery. I stooped low, then, and concentrating every faculty upon
absolute coordination of mind and muscles, I leaped straight upward
with all the strength of my legs.

And in that instant during which my life hung in the balance, of what
did I think? Of home, of Earth, of the friends of my childhood? No—of
a pale and lovely face, with great, dark eyes and a perfect forehead,
surmounted by a wealth of raven hair. It was the image of Nah-ee-lah,
the Moon Maid, that I would have carried with me into eternity, had I
died that instant.

But, I did not die. My leap carried me above the rim of the crater,
where I lunged forward and fell sprawling, my arms and upper body
upon the surface of the ground. Instantly I turned about and lying
upon my belly, seized the rope in both hands.

“Quick, Moh-goh!” I cried to my companion below; “make the rope fast
about you, keep hold of the spears and I will drag you up!”

“Pull away,” he answered me instantly, “I have no time to make the
rope fast about me. They are almost upon me, pull away and be quick
about it.”

I did as he bade, and a moment later his hands grasped the rim of the
crater and with my assistance he gained the top, dragging the spears
after him. For a moment he stood there in silence looking at me with
a most peculiar expression upon his face; then he shook his head.

“I do not understand, yet,” he said, “how you did it, but it was very
wonderful.”

“I scarcely expected to accomplish it in safety, myself,” I replied,
“but anything is better than slavery.”

From below us came the voices of the Kalkars in angry altercation.
Moh-goh picked up a fragment of rock, and leaning over the edge of
the crater, threw it down among them. “I got one,” he said, turning
to me with a laugh, “he tumbled off into nothing; they hate that.
They believe that there is no reincarnation for those who fall into a
crater.”

“Do you think that they will try to follow us?” I asked.

“No,” he said, “they will be afraid to use their hooked poles here
for a long time, lest we should be in the neighborhood and shove them
off into the crater. I will drop another rock down if any of them are
in sight and then we will go upon our way. I do not fear them here in
the hills, anyway. There is always plenty of broken stone upon the
level places, and we of Laythe are trained to use it most effectively—
almost as far as I can throw, I can score a hit.”

The Kalkars had withdrawn into the tunnel, so Moh-goh lost his
opportunity to despatch another, and presently turned away from the
crater and set out into the mountains, I following close behind.

I can assure you that I felt much better, now that I was armed with a
spear and a knife, and as we walked I practiced casting stones, at
Moh-goh’s suggestion and under his instruction, until I became rather
proficient in the art.

I shall not weary you with a narration of our journey to Laythe. How
long it took, I do not know. It may have consumed a day, a week, a
month, for time seemed quite a meaningless term in Va-nah, but at
length, after clambering laboriously from the bottom of a deep gorge,
we stood upon the edge of a rolling plateau, and at some little
distance beheld what at first appeared to be a cone-shaped mountain,
rising fully a mile into the air above the surface of the plateau.

“There,” cried Moh-goh, “is Laythe! The crater where lies the
entrance to the tunnel leading to the city is beyond it.”

As we approached the city, the base of which we must skirt in order
to reach the crater beyond, I was able to obtain a better idea of the
dimensions and methods of construction of this great interior lunar
city, the base of which was roughly circular and about six miles in
diameter, ranging from a few hundred to a thousand feet above the
level of the plateau. The base of the city appeared to be the outer
wall of an ancient extinct volcano, the entire summit of which had
been blown off during some terrific eruption of a bygone age. Upon
this base the ancient Laytheans had commenced the construction of
their city, the houses of which rose one upon another as did those of
the Kalkar city from which we had just escaped. The great age of
Laythe was attested by the tremendous height to which these
superimposed buildings had arisen, the loftiest wall of Laythe now
rising fully a mile above the floor of the plateau. Narrow terraces
encircled the periphery of the towering city, and as we approached
more closely I saw doors and windows opening upon the terraces and
figures moving to and fro, the whole resembling closely an enormous
hive of bees. When we had reached a point near the base of the city,
I saw that we had been discovered, for directly above us there were
people at various points who were unquestionably looking down at us
and commenting upon us.

“They have seen us from above,” I said to Moh-goh, “why don’t you
hail them?”

“They take us for Kalkars,” he replied. “It is easier for us to enter
the city by way of the tunnel, where I shall have no difficulty in
establishing my identity.”

“If they think we are Kalkars,” I said, “will they not attack us?”

“No,” he replied, “Kalkars often pass Laythe. If they do not try to
enter the city, we do not molest them.”

“Your people fear them, then?” I asked.

“It practically amounts to that,” he replied. “They greatly outnumber
us, perhaps a thousand to one, and as they are without justice, mercy
or honor we try not to antagonize them unnecessarily.”

We came at length to the mouth of the crater, and here Moh-goh looped
his rope about the base of a small tree growing close to the rim and
slipped down to the opening of the tunnel directly beneath. I
followed his example, and when I was beside him Moh-goh pulled the
rope in, coiled it about his waist, and we set off along the
passageway leading toward Laythe.

After my long series of adventures with unfriendly people in Va-nah,
I had somewhat the sensation of one returning home after a long
absence, for Moh-goh had assured me that the people of Laythe would
receive me well and that I should be treated as a friend. He even
assured me that he would procure for me a good berth in the service
of Ko-tah. My greatest regret now was for Nah-ee-lah, and that she
was not my companion, instead of Moh-goh. I was quite sure that she
was lost, for had she escaped, falling back into the crater outside
the Kalkar city, I doubted that she could successfully have found her
way to Laythe. My heart had been heavy since we had been separated,
and I had come to realize that the friendship of this little Moon
Maid had meant a great deal more to me than I had thought. I could
scarcely think of her now without a lump coming into my throat, for
it seemed cruel, indeed, that one so young and lovely should have met
so untimely an end.

The distance between the crater and the city of Laythe is not great,
and presently we came directly out upon the lower terrace within the
city. This terrace is at the very rim of the crater around which
Laythe is built. And here we ran directly into the arms of a force of
about fifty warriors.

Moh-goh emerged from the tunnel with his spear grasped in both hands
high above his head, the point toward the rear, and I likewise, since
he had cautioned me to do so. So surprised were the warriors to see
any creatures emerge from this tunnel, which had been so long
disused, that we were likely to have been slain before they realized
that we had come before them with the signal of peace.

The guard that is maintained at the inner opening of the tunnel is
considered by the Laytheans as more or less of an honorary
assignment, the duties of which are performed perfunctorily.

“What do you here, Kalkars?” exclaimed the commander of the guard.

“We are not Kalkars,” replied my companion. “I am Moh-goh the
Paladar, and this be my friend. Can it be that you, Ko-vo the
Kamadar, do not know me?”

“Ah!” cried the commander of the guard, “it is, indeed, Moh-goh the
Paladar. You have been given up as lost.”

“I was lost, indeed, had it not been for this, my friend,” replied
Moh-goh, nodding his head in my direction. “I was captured by the
Kalkars and incarcerated in City No. 337.”

“You escaped from a Kalkar city?” exclaimed Ko-vo, in evident
incredulity. “That is impossible. It never has been accomplished.”

“But we did accomplish it,” replied Moh-goh, “thanks to my friend
here,” and then he narrated briefly to Ko-vo the details of our
escape.

“It scarce seems possible,” commented the Laythean, when Moh-goh had
completed his narrative, “and what may be the name of your friend,
Moh-goh, and from what country did you say he came?”

“He calls himself Ju-lan-fit,” replied Moh-goh, for that was as near
as he could come to the pronunciation of my name. And so it was that
as Ju-lan-fit I was known to the Laytheans as long as I remained
among them. They thought that fifth, which they pronounced “fit,” was
a title similar to one of those which always followed the name of its
possessor in Laythe, as Sagroth the Jemadar, or Emperor; Ko-vo the
Kamadar, a title which corresponds closely to that of the English
Duke; and Moh-goh the Paladar, or Count. And so, to humor them, I
told them that it meant the same as their Javadar, or Prince. I was
thereafter called sometimes Ju-lan-fit, and sometimes Ju-lan Javadar,
as the spirit moved him who addressed me.

At Moh-goh’s suggestion, Ko-vo the Kamadar detailed a number of his
men to accompany us to Moh-goh’s dwelling, lest we have difficulty in
passing through the city in our Kalkar garb.

As we had stood talking with Ko-vo, my eyes had been taking in the
interior sights of this lunar city. The crater about which Laythe is
built appeared to be between three and four miles in width, the
buildings facing it and rising terrace upon terrace to a height of a
mile at least, were much more elaborate of architecture and far
richer in carving than those of the Kalkar City No. 337. The terraces
were broad and well cultivated, and as we ascended toward Moh-goh’s
dwelling I saw that much pains had been taken to elaborately
landscape many of them, there being pools and rivulets and waterfalls
in numerous places. As in the Kalkar city, there were Va-gas
fattening for food in little groups upon various terraces. They were
sleek and fat and appeared contented, and I learned later that they
were perfectly satisfied with their lot, having no more conception of
the purpose for which they were bred or the fate that awaited them
than have the beef cattle of Earth. The U-gas of Laythe have induced
this mental state in their Va-gas herds by a process of careful
selection covering a period of ages, possibly, during which time they
have conscientiously selected for breeding purposes the most stupid
and unimaginative members of their herds.

At Moh-goh’s dwelling we were warmly greeted by the members of his
family—his father, mother and two sisters—all of whom, like the other
Laytheans I had seen, were of striking appearance. The men were
straight and handsome, the women physically perfect and of great
beauty.

I could see in the affectionate greetings which they exchanged an
indication of a family life and ties similar to those which are most
common upon Earth, while their gracious and hospitable reception of
me marked them as people of highly refined sensibilities. First of
all they must hear Moh-goh’s story, and then, after having
congratulated us and praised us, they set about preparing baths and
fresh apparel for us, in which they were assisted by a corps of
servants, descendants, I was told, of the faithful servitors who had
remained loyal to the noble classes and accompanied them in their
exile.

We rested for a short time after our baths, and then Moh-goh
announced that he must go before Ko-tah, to whom it was necessary
that he report, and that he would take me with him. I was appareled
now in raiment befitting my supposed rank and carried the weapons of
a Laythean gentleman—a short lance, or javelin, a dagger and a sword,
but with my relatively darker skin and my blond hair, I could never
hope to be aught than an object of remark in any Laythean company.
Owing to the color of my hair, some of them thought that I was a
Kalkar, but upon this score my complexion set them right.

Ko-tah’s dwelling was, indeed, princely, stretching along a broad
terrace for fully a quarter of a mile, with its two stories and its
numerous towers and minarets. The entire face of the building was
elaborately and beautifully carved, the decorations in their entirety
recording pictographically the salient features of the lives of Ko-
tah’s ancestors.

Armed nobles stood on either side of the massive entrance way, and
long before we reached this lunar prince I realized that possibly he
was more difficult to approach than one of earthly origin, but at
last we were ushered into his presence, and Moh-goh, with the utmost
deference, presented me to Ko-tah the Javadar. Having assumed a
princely title and princely raiment, I chose to assume princely
prerogatives as well, believing that my position among the Laytheans
would be better assured and all my interests furthered if they
thought me of royal blood, and so I acknowledged my introduction to
Ko-tah as though we were equals and that he was being presented to me
upon the same footing that I was being presented to him.

I found him, like all his fellows, a handsome man, but with a
slightly sinister expression which I did not like. Possibly I was
prejudiced against him from what Nah-ee-lah had told me, but be that
as it may, I conceived a dislike and distrust for him the moment that
I laid eyes upon him, and I think, too, that he must have sensed my
attitude, for, though he was outwardly gracious and courteous, I
believe that Ko-tah the Javadar never liked me.

It is true that he insisted upon allotting me quarters within his
palace and that he gave me service high among his followers, but I
was at that time a novelty among them, and Ko-tah was not alone among
the royalty who would have been glad to have entertained me and
showered favors upon me, precisely as do Earth Men when a titled
stranger, or famous man from another land, comes to their country.

Although I did not care for him, I was not loth to accept his
hospitality, since I felt that because of my friendship for Nah-ee-
lah I owed all my loyalty to Sagroth the Jemadar, and if by placing
myself in the camp of the enemy I might serve the father of Nah-ee-
lah, I was justified in so doing.

I found myself in a rather peculiar position in the palace of Ko-tah,
since I was supposed to know little or nothing of internal condition
in Laythe, and yet had learned from both Nah-ee-lah and Moh-goh a
great deal concerning the intrigues and politics of this lunar city.
For example, I was not supposed to know of the existence of Nah-ee-
lah. Not even did Moh-goh know that I had heard of her; and so until
her name was mentioned, I could ask no questions concerning her,
though I was anxious indeed, to discover if by any miracle of chance,
she had returned in safety to Laythe, or if aught had been learned
concerning her fate.

Ko-tah held me in conversation for a considerable period of time,
asking many questions concerning Earth and my voyage from that planet
to the Moon. I knew that he was skeptical, and yet he was a man of
such intelligence as to realize that there must be something in the
Universe beyond his understanding or his knowledge. His eyes told him
that I was not a native of Va-nah, and his ears must have
corroborated the testimony of his eyes, for try as I would, I never
was able to master the Va-nahan language so that I could pass for a
native.

At the close of our interview Ko-tah announced that Moh-goh would
also remain in quarters in the palace, suggesting that if it was
agreeable to me, my companion should share my apartments with me.

“Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Ko-tah the Javadar,” I said,
“than to have my good friend, Moh-goh the Paladar, always with me.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Ko-tah. “You must both be fatigued. Go,
therefore, to your apartments and rest. Presently I will repair to
the palace of the Jemadar with my court, and you will be notified in
sufficient time to prepare yourselves to accompany me.”

The audience was at an end, and we were led by nobles of Ko-tah’s
palace to our apartments, which lay upon the second floor in pleasant
rooms overlooking the terraces down to the brink of the great,
yawning crater below.

Until I threw myself upon the soft mattress that served as a bed for
me, I had not realized how physically exhausted I had been. Scarcely
had I permitted myself to relax in the luxurious ease which precedes
sleep ere I was plunged into profound slumber, which must have
endured for a considerable time, since when I awoke I was completely
refreshed. Moh-goh was already up and in the bath, a marble affair
fed by a continuous supply of icy water which originated among the
ice-clad peaks of the higher mountains behind Laythe. The bather had
no soap, but used rough fibre gloves with which he rubbed the surface
of his skin until it glowed. These baths rather took one’s breath
away, but amply repaid for the shock by the sensation of exhilaration
and well being which resulted from them.

In addition to private baths in each dwelling, each terrace supported
a public bath, in which men, women and children disported themselves,
recalling to my mind the ancient Roman baths which earthly history
records.

The baths of the Jemadar which I was later to see in the palace of
Sagroth were marvels of beauty and luxury. Here, when the Emperor
entertains, his guests amuse themselves by swimming and diving,
which, from what I have been able to judge, are the national sports
of the Laytheans. The Kalkars care less for the water, while the Va-
gas only enter it through necessity.

I followed Moh-goh in the bath, in which my first sensation was that
I was freezing to death. While we were dressing a messenger from Ko-
tah summoned us to his presence, with instructions that we were to be
prepared to accompany him to the palace of Sagroth the Jemadar.




CHAPTER XII


GROWING DANGER


The palace of the Emperor stands, a magnificent pile, upon the
loftiest terrace of Laythe, extending completely around the enormous
crater. There are but three avenues leading to it from the terraces
below—three magnificent stairways, each of which may be closed by
enormous gates of stone, apparently wrought from huge slabs and
intricately chiselled into marvelous designs, so that at a distance
they present the appearance of magnificent lacework. Each gate is
guarded by a company of fifty warriors, their tunics bearing the
imperial design in a large circle over the left breast.

The ceremony of our entrance to the imperial terrace was most
gorgeous and impressive. Huge drums and trumpets blared forth a
challenge as we reached the foot of the stairway which we were to
ascend to the palace. High dignitaries in gorgeous trappings came
down the steps to meet us, as if to formally examine the credentials
of Ko-tah and give official sanction to his entrance. We were then
conducted through the gateway across a broad terrace beautifully
landscaped and ornamented by statuary that was most evidently the
work of finished artists. These works of art comprised both life size
and heroic figures of individuals and groups, and represented for the
most part historic or legendary figures and events of the remote
past, though there were also likenesses of all the rulers of Laythe,
up to and including Sagroth the present Jemadar.

Upon entering the palace we were led to a banquet hall, where we were
served with food, evidently purely in accordance with ancient court
ceremonial, since there was little to eat and the guests barely
tasted of that which was presented to them. This ceremony consumed
but a few minutes of Earth time, following which we were conducted
through spacious hallways to the throne room of the Jemadar, an
apartment of great beauty and considerable size. Its decorations and
lines were simple, almost to severity, yet suggesting regal dignity
and magnificence. Upon a dais at the far end of the room were three
thrones, that in the center being occupied by a man whom I knew at
once to be Sagroth, while upon either side sat a woman.

Ko-tah advanced and made his obeisance before his ruler, and after
the exchange of a few words between them Ko-tah returned and
conducted me to the foot of Sagroth’s throne.

I had been instructed that it was in accordance with court etiquette
that I keep my eyes upon the ground until I had been presented and
Sagroth had spoken to me, and that then I should be introduced to the
Jemadav, or Empress, when I might raise my eyes to her, also, and
afterward to the occupant of the third throne when I should be
formally presented to her.

Sagroth spoke most graciously to me, and as I raised my eyes I saw
before me a man of great size and evident strength of character. He
was by far the most regal appearing individual my eyes had ever
rested upon, while his low, well modulated, yet powerful voice
accentuated the majesty of his mien. It was he who presented me to
his Jemadav, whom I discovered to be a creature fully as regal in
appearance as her imperial mate, and although doubtless well past
middle age, still possessing remarkable beauty, in which was to be
plainly noted Nah-ee-lah’s resemblance to her mother.

Again I lowered my eyes as Sagroth presented me to the occupant of
the third throne.

“Ju-lan the Javadar,” he repeated the formal words of the
presentation, “raise your eyes to the daughter of Laythe, Nah-ee-lah
the Nonovar.”

As my eyes, filled doubtless with surprise and incredulity, shot to
the face of Nah-ee-lah, I was almost upon the verge of an exclamation
of the joy and happiness which I felt in seeing her again and in
knowing that she was safely returned to her parents and her city once
more. But as my eyes met hers the exuberance of my spirit was as
effectually and quickly checked by her cold glance and haughty mien
as if I had received a blow in the face.

There was no hint of recognition in Nah-ee-lah’s expression. She
nodded coldly in acknowledgment of the presentation and then let her
eyes pass above my head toward the opposite end of the throne room.
My pride was hurt, and I was angry, but I would not let her see how
badly I was hurt. I have always prided myself upon my control, and so
I know that then I hid my emotion and turned once more to Sagroth, as
though I had received from his daughter the Nonovar precisely the
favor that I had a right to expect. If the Jemadar had noticed aught
peculiar in either Nah-ee-lah’s manner or mine, he gave no hint of
it. He spoke again graciously to me and then dismissed me, with the
remark that we should meet again later.

Having withdrawn from the throne room, Ko-tah informed me that
following the audience I should have an opportunity to meet Sagroth
less formally, since he had commanded that I remain in the palace as
his guest during the meal which followed.

“It is a mark of distinction,” said Ko-tah, “but remember, Ju-lan the
Javadar, that you have accepted the friendship of Ko-tah and are his
ally.”

“Do not embroil me in the political intrigues of Laythe,” I replied.
“I am a stranger, with no interest in the internal affairs of your
country, for the reason that I have no knowledge of them.”

“One is either a friend or an enemy,” replied Ko-tah.

“I am not sufficiently well acquainted to be accounted either,” I
told him; “nor shall I choose my friends in Laythe until I am better
acquainted, nor shall another choose them for me.”

“You are a stranger here,” said Ko-tah. “I speak in your best
interests, only. If you would succeed here; aye, if you would live,
even, you must choose quickly and you must choose correctly. I, Ko-
tah the Javadar, have spoken.”

“I choose my own friends,” I replied, “according to the dictates of
my honor and my heart. I, Ju-lan the Javadar, have spoken.”

He bowed low in acquiescence, and when he again raised his eyes to
mine I was almost positive from the expression in them that his
consideration of me was marked more by respect than resentment.

“We shall see,” was all that he said, and withdrew, leaving me to the
kindly attention of some of the gentlemen of Sagroth’s court who had
been standing at a respectful distance out of earshot of Ko-tah and
myself. These men chatted pleasantly with me for some time until I
was bidden to join Sagroth in another part of the palace.

I found myself now with a man who had evidently thrown off the
restraint of a formal audience, though without in the slightest
degree relinquishing either his dignity or his majesty. He spoke more
freely and his manner was more democratic. He asked me to be seated,
nor would he himself sit until I had, a point of Laythean court
etiquette which made a vast impression on me, since it indicated that
the first gentleman of the city must also be the first in courtesy.
He put question after question to me concerning my own world and the
means by which I had been transported to Va-nah.

“There are fragmentary, extremely fragmentary, legends handed down
from extreme antiquity which suggest that our remote ancestors had
some knowledge concerning the other worlds of which you speak,” he
said, “but these have been considered always the veriest of myths.
Can it be possible that, after all, they are based upon truth?”

“The remarkable part of them,” I suggested, “is that they exist at
all, since it is difficult to understand how any knowledge of the
outer Universe could ever reach to the buried depths of Va-nah.”

“No, not by any means,” he said, “if what you tell me is the truth,
for our legends bear out the theory that Va-nah is located in the
center of an enormous globe and that our earliest progenitors lived
upon the outer surface of this globe, being forced at last by some
condition which the legends do not even suggest, to find their way
into this inner world.”

I shook my head. It did not seem possible.

“And, yet,” he said, noting the doubt that my expression evidently
betrayed, “you yourself claim to have reached Va-nah from a great
world far removed from our globe which you call the Moon. If you
reached us from another world, is it then so difficult to believe
that those who preceded us reached Va-nah from the outer crust of
this Moon? It is almost an historic certainty,” he continued, “that
our ancestors possessed great ships which navigated the air. As you
entered Va-nah by means of a similar conveyance, may not they have
done likewise?”

I had to admit that it was within the range of possibilities, and in
so doing, to avow that the Moon Men of antiquity had been millions of
years in advance of their brethren of the Earth.

But, after all, was it such a difficult conclusion to reach when one
considers the fact that the Moon being smaller, must have cooled more
rapidly than Earth, and therefore, provided that it had an
atmosphere, have been habitable to man ages before man could have
lived upon our own planet?

We talked pleasantly upon many subjects for some time, and then, at
last, Sagroth arose.

“We will join the others at the tables now,” he said, and as he led
the way from the apartment in which we had been conversing alone,
stone doors opened before us as by magic, indicating that the Jemadar
of Laythe was not only well served, but well protected, or possibly
well spied upon.

After we emerged from the private audience, guards accompanied us,
some preceding the Jemadar and some following, and thus we moved in
semi-state through several corridors and apartments until we came out
upon a balcony upon the second floor of the palace overlooking the
terraces and the crater.

Here, along the rail of the balcony, were numerous small tables, each
seating two, all but two of the tables being occupied by royal and
noble retainers and their women. As the Jemadar entered, these all
arose, facing him respectfully, and simultaneously through another
entrance, came the Jemadav and Nah-ee-lah.

They stood just within the room, waiting until Sagroth and I crossed
to them. While we were doing so, Sagroth very courteously explained
the procedure I was to follow.

“You will place yourself upon the Nonovar’s left,” he concluded, “and
conduct her to her table precisely as I conduct the Jemadav.”

Nah-ee-lah’s head was high as I approached her and she vouchsafed me
only the merest inclination of it in response to my respectful
salutation. In silence we followed Sagroth and his Empress to the
tables reserved for us. The balance of the company remained standing
until, at a signal from Sagroth, we all took our seats. It was
necessary for me to watch the others closely, as I knew nothing
concerning the social customs of Laythe, but when I saw that
conversation had become general I glanced at Nah-ee-lah.

“The Princess of Laythe so soon forgets her friends?” I asked.

“The Princess of Laythe never forgets her friends,” she replied.

“I know nothing of your customs here,” I said, “but in my world even
royalty may greet their friends with cordiality and seeming
pleasure.”

“And here, too,” she retorted.

I saw that something was amiss, that she seemed to be angry with me,
but the cause I could not imagine. Perhaps she thought I had deserted
her at the entrance to the tunnel leading to the Kalkar city. But no,
she must have guessed the truth. What then, could be the cause of her
cold aloofness, who, the last that I had seen of her, had been warm
with friendship?

“I wonder,” I said, trying a new tack, “if you were as surprised to
see me alive as I you. I had given you up for lost, Nah-ee-lah, and I
had grieved more than I can tell you. When I saw you in the audience
chamber I could scarce repress myself, but when I saw that you did
not wish to recognize me, I could only respect your desires.”

She made no reply, but turned and looked out the window across the
terraces and the crater to the opposite side of Laythe. She was ice,
who had been almost fire. No longer was she little Nah-ee-lah, the
companion of my hardships and dangers. No longer was she friend and
confidante, but a cold and haughty Princess, who evidently looked
upon me with disfavor. Her attitude outraged all the sacred tenets of
friendship, and I was angered.

“Princess,” I said, “if it is customary for Laytheans thus to cast
aside the sacred bonds of friendship, I should do as well to be among
the Va-gas or the Kalkars.”

“The way to either is open,” she replied haughtily. “You are not a
prisoner in Laythe.”

Thereafter conversation languished and expired, as far at least, as
Nah-ee-lah and I were concerned, and I was more than relieved when
the unpleasant function was concluded.

Two young nobles took me in charge, following the meal; as it seemed
that I was to remain as a guest in the palace for awhile, and as I
expressed a desire to see as much of the imperial residence as I
might be permitted to, they graciously conducted me upon a tour of
inspection. We went out upon the outer terraces which overlooked the
valleys and the mountains, and never in my life have I looked upon a
landscape more majestic or inspiring.

The crater of Laythe, situated upon a broad plateau entirely surrounded
by lofty mountains, titanic peaks that would dwarf our Alps into
insignificance and reduce the Himalayas to foothills, lowered far into
the distance upon the upper side, the ice-clad summits of those more
distant seemed to veritably topple above us, while a thousand feet below
us the pinks and lavenders of the weird lunar vegetation lay like a soft
carpet upon the gently undulating surface of the plateau.

But my guides seemed less interested in the scenery than in me. They
plied me with questions continually, until I was more anxious to be
rid of them than aught else that I could think of. They asked me a
little concerning my own world and what I thought of Laythe, and if I
found the Princess Nah-ee-lah charming, and my opinion of the Emperor
Sagroth. My answers must have been satisfactory, for presently they
came very close to me and one of them whispered:

“You need not fear to speak in our presence. We, too, are friends and
followers of Ko-tah.”

“The Devil!” I thought. “They are bound to embroil me in their petty
intrigues. What do I care for Sagroth or Ko-tah or”—and then my
thoughts reverted to Nah-ee-lah. She had treated me cruelly. Her cold
aloofness and her almost studied contempt had wounded me, yet I could
not say to myself that Nah-ee-lah was nothing to me. She had been my
friend and I had been hers, and I should remain her friend to my
dying day. Perhaps, then, if these people were bound to draw me into
their political disputes, I might turn their confidences into profit
for Nah-ee-lah. I had never told them that I was a creature of Ko-
tah’s, for I was not, nor had I ever told Ko-tah that I was an enemy
to Sagroth; in fact, I had led him to believe the very opposite. And
so I gave these two an evasive answer which might have meant
anything, and they chose to interpret it as meaning that I was one of
them. Well, what could I do? It was not my fault if they insisted
upon deceiving themselves, and Nah-ee-lah might yet need the
friendship that she had scorned.

“Has Sagroth no loyal followers, then,” I asked, “that you are all so
sure of the success of the _coup d’etat_ that Ko-tah plans?”

“Ah, you know about it then!” cried one of them. “You are in the
confidence of the Javadar.”

I let them think that I was. It could do no harm, at least.

“Did he tell you when it was to happen?” asked the other.

“Perhaps, already I have said too much,” I replied. “The confidences
of Ko-tah are not to be lightly spread about.”

“You are right,” said the last speaker. “It is well to be discreet,
but let us assure you, Ju-lan the Javadar, that we are equally in the
confidence and favor of Ko-tah with any of those who serve him;
otherwise, he would not have entrusted us with a portion of the work
which must be done within the very palace of the Jemadar.”

“Have you many accomplices here?” I asked.

“Many,” he replied, “outside of the Jemadar’s guards. They remain
loyal to Sagroth. It is one of the traditions of the organization,
and they will die for him, to a man and,” he added with a shrug,
“they shall die, never fear. When the time arrives and the signal is
given, each member of the guard will be set upon by two of Ko-tah’s
faithful followers.”

I do not know how long I remained in the City of Laythe. Time passed
rapidly, and I was very happy after I returned to the dwelling of Moh-
goh. I swam and dived with them and their friends in the baths upon
our terrace, and also in those of Ko-tah. I learned to use the flying
wings that I had first seen upon Nah-ee-lah the day that she fell
exhausted into the clutches of the Va-gas, and many were the lofty
and delightful excursions we took into the higher mountains of the
Moon, when Moh-goh or his friends organized pleasure parties for the
purpose. Constantly surrounded by people of culture and refinement,
by brave men and beautiful women, my time was so filled with
pleasurable activities that I made no effort to gauge it. I felt that
I was to spend the balance of my life here, and I might as well get
from it all the pleasure that Laythe could afford.

I did not see Nah-ee-lah during all this time, and though I still
heard a great deal concerning the conspiracy against Sagroth, I
presently came to attach but little importance to what I did hear,
after I learned that the conspiracy had been on foot for over
thirteen kelds, or approximately about ten earthly years, and seemed,
according to my informers, no nearer consummation than it ever had
been in the past.

Time does not trouble these people much, and I was told that it might
be twenty kelds before Ko-tah took action, though on the other hand,
he might strike within the next ola.

There was an occurrence during this period which aroused my
curiosity, but concerning which Moh-goh was extremely reticent. Upon
one of the occasions that I was a visitor in Ko-tah’s palace, I was
passing through a little used corridor in going from one chamber to
another, when just ahead of me a door opened and a man stepped out in
front of me. When he heard my footsteps behind him he turned and
looked at me, and then stepped quickly back into the apartment he had
just left and closed the door hurriedly behind him. There would have
been nothing particularly remarkable in that, had it not been for the
fact that the man was not a Laythean, but unquestionably a Kalkar.

Believing that I had discovered an enemy in the very heart of Laythe,
I leaped forward, and throwing open the door, followed into the
apartment into which the man had disappeared. To my astonishment, I
found myself confronted by six men, three of whom were Kalkars, while
the other three were Laytheans, and among the latter I instantly
recognized Ko-tah, himself. He flushed angrily as he saw me, but
before he could speak I bowed and explained my action.

“I crave your pardon, Javadar,” I said. “I thought that I saw an
enemy of Laythe in the heart of your palace, and that by apprehending
him I should serve you best;” and I started to withdraw from the
chamber.

“Wait,” he said. “You did right, but lest you misunderstand their
presence here, I may tell you that these three are prisoners.”

“I realized that at once when I saw you, Javadar,” I replied, though
I knew perfectly that he had lied to me; and then I backed from the
room, closing the door after me.

I spoke to Moh-goh about it the next time that I saw him.

“You saw nothing, my friend,” he said. “Remember that—you saw
nothing.”

“If you mean that it is none of my business, Moh-goh,” I replied, “I
perfectly agree with you, and you may rest assured that I shall not
meddle in affairs that do not concern me.”

However, I did considerable thinking upon the matter, and possibly I
went out of my way a little more than one should who is attending
strictly to his own business, that I might keep a little in touch
with the course of the conspiracy, for no matter what I had said to
Moh-goh, no matter how I attempted to convince myself that it did not
interest me, the truth remained that anything that affected in any
way the fate of Nah-ee-lah transcended in interest any event which
might transpire within Va-nah, in so far as I was concerned.

The unobtrusive espionage which I practiced bore fruit, to the extent
that it permitted me to know that on at least three other occasions
delegations of Kalkars visited Ko-tah.

The fact that this ancient palace of the Prince of Laythe was a never-
ending source of interest to me aided me in my self-imposed task of
spying upon the conspirators, for the retainers of Ko-tah were quite
accustomed to see me in out-of-the-way corridors and passages,
oftentimes far from the inhabited portions of the building.

Upon the occasion of one of these tours I had descended to a lower
terrace, along an ancient stone stairway which wound spirally
downward and had discovered a dimly lighted room in which were stored
a number of ancient works of art. I was quietly examining these, when
I heard voices in an adjoining chamber.

“Upon no other conditions will he assist you, Javadar,” said the
speaker, whose voice I first heard.

“His demands are outrageous,” replied a second speaker. “I refuse to
consider them. Laythe is impregnable. He can never take it.” The
voice was that of Ko-tah.

“You do not know him, Laythean,” replied the other. “He has given us
engines of destruction with which we can destroy any city in Va-nah.
He will give you Laythe. Is that not enough?”

“But he will be Jemadar of Jemadars and rule us all!” exclaimed Ko-
tah. “The Jemadar of Laythe can be subservient to none.”

“If you do not accede he will take Laythe in spite of you and reduce
you to the status of a slave.”

“Enough, Kalkar!” cried Ko-tah, his voice trembling with rage. “Be
gone! Tell your master that Ko-tah refuses his base demands.”

“You will regret it, Laythean,” replied the Kalkar, “for you do not
know what this creature has brought from another world in knowledge
of war and the science of destruction of human life.”

“I do not fear him,” snapped Ko-tah, “my swords are many, my spearmen
are well trained. Be gone, and do not return until your master is
ready to sue with Ko-tah for an alliance.” I heard receding footsteps
then, and following that, a silence which I thought indicated that
all had left the chamber, but presently I heard Ko-tah’s voice again.

“What think you of it?” he asked. And then I heard the voice of a
third man, evidently a Laythean, replying:

“I think that if there is any truth in the fellow’s assertions, we
may not too quickly bring about the fall of Sagroth and place you
upon the throne of Laythe, for only thus may we stand united against
a common outside enemy.”

“You are right,” replied the Javadar. “Gather our forces. We shall
strike within the ola.”

I wanted to hear more, but they passed out of the chamber then, and
their voices became only a subdued murmur which quickly trailed off
into silence. What should I do? Within six hours Ko-tah would strike
at the power of Sagroth, and I well knew what that would mean to Nah-
ee-lah; either marriage with the new Jemadar, or death, and I guessed
that the proud Princess would choose the latter in preference to Ko-
tah.




CHAPTER XIII


DEATH WITHIN AND WITHOUT!


As rapidly as I could I made my way from the palace of Ko-tah, and
upward, terrace by terrace, toward the palace of the Jemadar. I had
never presented myself at Sagroth’s palace since Nah-ee-lah had so
grievously offended me. I did not even know the customary procedure
to follow to gain an audience with the Emperor, but nevertheless I
came boldly to the carven gates and demanded to speak with the
officer in command of the guards. When he came I told him that I
desired to speak either with Sagroth or the Princess Nah-ee-lah at
once, upon a matter of the most urgent importance.

“Wait,” he said, “and I will take your message to the Jemadar.”

He was gone for what seemed to me a very long time, but at last he
returned, saying that Sagroth would see me at once, and I was
conducted through the gates and into the palace toward the small
audience chamber in which Sagroth had once received me so graciously.
As I was ushered into the room I found myself facing both Sagroth and
Nah-ee-lah. The attitude of the Jemadar seemed apparently judicial,
but that of the Princess was openly hostile.

“What are you doing here, traitor?” she demanded, without waiting for
Sagroth to speak, and at the same instant a door upon the opposite
side of the room burst open and three warriors leaped into the
apartment with bared swords. They wore the livery of Ko-tah, and I
knew instantly the purpose for which they had come. Drawing my own
sword, I leaped forward.

“I have come to defend the life of the Jemadar and his Princess,” I
cried, as I sprang between them and the advancing three.

“What means this?” demanded Sagroth. “How dare you enter the presence
of your Jemadar with drawn sword?”

“They are the assassins of Ko-tah come to slay you!” I cried. “Defend
yourself, Sagroth of Laythe!” And with that, I tried to engage the
three until help arrived.

I am no novice with the sword. The art of fencing has been one of my
chief diversions since my cadet days in the Air School, and I did not
fear the Laytheans, though I knew that, even were they but mediocre
swordsmen, I could not for long withstand the assaults of three at
once. But upon this point I need not have concerned myself, for no
sooner had I spoken than Sagroth’s sword leaped from its scabbard,
and placing himself at my side, he fought nobly and well in defense
of his life and his honor.

One of our antagonists merely tried to engage me while the other two
assassinated the Jemadar. And so, seeing that he was playing me, and
that I could do with him about as I pleased if I did not push him too
hard, I drove him back a few steps until I was close at the side of
one of those who engaged Sagroth. Then before any could know my
intention, I wheeled and lunged my sword through the heart of one of
those who opposed the father of Nah-ee-lah. So quickly had I
disengaged my former antagonist, so swift my lunge, that I had
recovered and was ready to meet the renewed assaults of the first who
had engaged me almost before he realized what had happened.

It was man against man, now, and the odds were even. I had no
opportunity to watch Sagroth, but from the ring of steel on steel, I
knew that the two were bitterly engaged. My own man kept me well
occupied. He was a magnificent swordsman, but he was only fighting
for his life; I was fighting for more—for my life and for my honor,
too, since after the word “traitor” that Nah-ee-lah had hurled at me,
I had felt that I must redeem myself in her eyes. I did not give any
thought at all to the question as to just why I should care what Nah-
ee-lah the Moon Maid thought of me, but something within me reacted
mightily to the contempt that she had put into that single word.

I could catch an occasional glimpse of her standing there behind the
massive desk at which her father had sat upon the first occasion of
my coming to this chamber. She stood there very tense, her wide eyes
fixed upon me in evident incredulity.

I had almost worn my man down and we were fighting now so that I was
facing Nah-ee-lah, with my back toward the doorway through which the
three assassins had entered. Sagroth must have been more than holding
his own, too, for I could see his opponent slowly falling back before
the older man’s assaults. And then there broke above the clang of
steel a girl’s voice—Nah-ee-lah’s—raised in accents of fear.

“Julian, beware! Behind you! Behind you!”

At the instant of her warning the eyes of my antagonist left mine,
which, for his own good, they never should have done, and passed in a
quick glance over my shoulder at something or someone behind me. His
lack of concentration cost him his life. I saw my opening the instant
that it was made, and with a quick lunge I passed my blade through
his heart. Whipping it out again, I wheeled to face a dozen men
springing into the chamber. They paid no attention to me, but leaped
toward Sagroth, and before I could prevent he went down with half a
dozen blades through his body.

Upon the opposite side of the desk from us was another door-way
directly behind Nah-ee-lah, and in the instant that she saw Sagroth
fall, she called to me in a low voice: “Come, Julian, quick! Or we,
too, are lost.”

Realizing that the Jemadar was dead and that it would be folly to
remain and attempt to fight this whole roomful of warriors, I leaped
the desk and followed Nah-ee-lah through the doorway beyond. There
was a cry, then, from someone within the room, to stop us, but Nah-ee-
lah wheeled and slammed the door in their faces as they rushed
forward, fastened it upon our side and then turned to me.

“Julian,” she said, “how can you ever forgive me? You who have risked
your life for the Jemadar, my father, in spite of the contemptible
treatment that in my ignorance I have accorded you?”

“I could have explained,” I said, “but you would not let me.
Appearances were against me, and so I cannot blame you for thinking
as you did.”

“It was wicked of me not to listen to you, Julian, but I thought that
Ko-tah had won you over, as he has won over even some of the
staunchest friends of Sagroth.”

“You might have known, Nah-ee-lah, that, even could I have been
disloyal to your father, I never could have been disloyal to his
daughter.”

“I did not know,” she said. “How could I?”

There suddenly came over me a great desire to take her in my arms and
cover those lovely lips with kisses. I could not tell why this
ridiculous obsession had seized upon me, nor why, of a sudden, I
became afraid of little Nah-ee-lah, the Moon Maid. I must have looked
very foolish indeed, standing there looking at her, and suddenly I
realized how fatuous I must appear, and so I shook myself and
laughed.

“Come, Nah-ee-lah,” I said, “we must not remain here. Where can I
take you, that you will be safe?”

“Upon the outer terrace there may be some of the loyal guards,” she
replied, “but if Ko-tah has already taken the palace, flight will be
useless.”

“From what I know of the conspiracy, it will be useless,” I replied,
“for the service of Sagroth and his palace is rotten with the spies
and retainers of the Javadar.”

“I feared as much,” she said. “The very men who came to assassinate
Sagroth wore the imperial livery less than an ola since.”

“Are there none, then, loyal to you?” I asked her.

“The Jemadar’s guard is always loyal,” she said, “but they number
scarce a thousand men.”

“How may we summon them?” I asked.

“Let us go to the outer terraces and if there are any of them there
we can congregate the balance, or as many of them as Ko-tah has left
alive.”

“Come, then,” I said, “let us hasten;” and together, hand in hand, we
ran along the corridors of the Jemadar’s palace to the outer terraces
of the highest tier of Laythe. There we found a hundred men, and when
we had told them of what had happened within the palace they drew
their swords and, surrounding Nah-ee-lah, they shouted:

“To the death for Nah-ee-lah, Jemadav of Laythe!”

They wanted to remain there and protect her, but I told them that
there would be nothing gained by that, that sooner or later they
would be overwhelmed by far greater numbers, and the cause of Nah-ee-
lah lost.

“Send a dozen men,” I said to their commander, “to rally all of the
loyal guards that remain alive. Tell them to come to the throne room,
ready to lay down their lives for the new Jemadav, and then let the
dozen continue on out into the city, rallying the people to the
protection of Nah-ee-lah. As for us, we will accompany her
immediately to the throne room, and there, place her upon the throne
and proclaim her ruler of Laythe. A hundred men may hold the throne
room for a long time, if we reach it before Ko-tah reaches it with
his forces.”

The officer looked at Nah-ee-lah questioningly.

“Your command, Jemadav?” he inquired.

“We will follow the plan of Ju-lan the Javadar,” she replied.

Immediately a dozen warriors were dispatched to rally the Imperial
Guard and arouse the loyal citizens of the city to the protection of
their new Jemadav, while the balance of us conducted Nah-ee-lah by a
short course toward the throne room.

As we entered the great chamber at one end, Ko-tah and a handful of
warriors came in at the other, but we had the advantage, in that we
entered through a doorway directly behind the throne and upon the
dais.

“Throw your men upon the main entrance,” I called to the officer of
the guard, “and hold it until reinforcements come;” and then, as the
hundred raced the length of the throne room toward the surprised and
enraged Ko-tah, I led Nah-ee-lah to the central throne and seated her
upon it. Then stepping forward, I raised my hand for silence.

“The Jemadar Sagroth is dead!” I cried. “Behold Nah-ee-lah, the
Jemadav of Laythe!”

“Stop!” cried Ko-tah, “she may share the throne with me, but she may
not possess it alone.”

“Take that traitor!” I called to the loyal guard, and they rushed
forward, evidently glad to do my bidding. But Ko-tah did not wait to
be taken. He was accompanied by only a handful of men, and when he
saw that the guard really intended to seize him and realized that he
would be given short shift at the hands of Nah-ee-lah and myself, he
turned and fled. But I knew he would come back, and come back he did,
though not until after the majority of the Jemadav’s guard had
gathered within the throne room.

He came with a great concourse of warriors, and the fighting was
furious, but he might have brought a million men against our thousand
and not immediately have overcome us, since only a limited number
could fight at one time in the entrance way to the throne room.
Already the corpses lay stacked as high as a man’s head, yet no
single member of Ko-tah’s forces had crossed the threshold.

How long the fight was waged I do not know, but it must have been for
a considerable time, since I know that our men fought in relays and
rested many times, and that food was brought from other parts of the
palace to the doorway behind the throne, and there were times when Ko-
tah’s forces withdrew and rested and recuperated, but always they
came back in greater number, and eventually I realized we must be
worn down by the persistence of their repeated attacks.

And then there arose slowly a deep-toned sound, at first we could not
interpret. It rose and fell in increasing volume, until finally we
knew that it was the sound of human voices, the voices of a great mob—
of a mighty concourse of people and that it was sweeping toward us
slowly and resistlessly.

Closer and closer it approached the palace as it rose, terrace upon
terrace, toward the lofty pinnacle of Laythe. The fighting at the
entrance to the throne room had almost ceased. Both sides were worn
down almost to utter exhaustion, and now we but stood upon our arms
upon either side of the wall of corpses that lay between us, our
attention centered upon the sound of the growling multitude that was
sweeping slowly upward toward us.

“They come,” cried one of Nah-ee-lah’s nobles, “to acclaim the new
Jemadav and to tear the minions of Ko-tah the traitor to pieces!”

He spoke in a loud voice that was easily audible to Ko-tah and his
retainers in the corridor without.

“They come to drag the spawn of Sagroth from the throne!” cried one
of Ko-tah’s followers. And then from the throne came the sweet, clear
voice of Nah-ee-lah:

“Let the people’s will be done,” she said, and thus we stood,
awaiting the verdict of the populace. Nor had we long to wait, for
presently we realized that they had reached the palace terrace and
entered the building itself. We could hear the shouting horde moving
through the corridors and chambers, and finally the muffled bellowing
resolved itself into articulate words:

“Sagroth is no more! Rule, Ko-tah, Jemadar of Laythe!”

I turned in consternation toward Nah-ee-lah. “What does it mean?” I
cried. “Have the people turned against you?”

“Ko-tah’s minions have done their work well during these many kelds,”
said the commander of the Jemadav’s guard, who stood upon the upper
steps of the dais, just below the throne. “They have spread lies and
sedition among the people which not even Sagroth’s just and kindly
reign could overcome.”

“Let the will of the people be done,” repeated Nah-ee-lah.

“It is the will of fools betrayed by a scoundrel,” cried the
commander of the guard. “While there beats a single heart beneath the
tunic of a guardsman of the Jemadav, we shall fight for Nah-ee-lah,
Empress of Laythe.”

Ko-tah’s forces, now augmented by the rabble, were pushing their way
over the corpses and into the throne room, so that we were forced to
join the defenders, that we might hold them off while life remained
to any of us. When the commander of the guard saw me fighting at his
side he asked me to return to Nah-ee-lah.

“We must not leave the Jemadav alone,” he said. “Return and remain at
her side, Ju-lan the Javadar, and when the last of us has fallen,
drive your dagger into her heart.”

I shuddered and turned back toward Nah-ee-lah. The very thought of
plunging my dagger into that tender bosom fairly nauseated me. There
must be some other way, and yet, what other means of escape could
there be for Nah-ee-lah, who preferred death to the dishonor of
surrender to Ko-tah, the murderer of her father? As I reached Nah-ee-
lah’s side, and turned again to face the entrance to the throne room,
I saw that the warriors of Ko-tah were being pushed into the chamber
by the mob behind them and that our defenders were being overwhelmed
by the great number of their antagonists. Ko-tah, with a half dozen
warriors, had been carried forward, practically without volition, by
the press of numbers in their rear, and even now, with none to
intercept him, was running rapidly up the broad center aisle toward
the throne. Some of those in the entrance way saw him, and as he
reached the foot of the steps leading to the dais, a snarling cry
arose:

“Ko-tah the Jemadar!”

With bared sword, the fellow leaped toward me where I stood alone
between Nah-ee-lah and her enemies.

“Surrender, Julian!” she cried. “It is futile to oppose them. You are
not of Laythe. Neither duty nor honor impose upon you the necessity
of offering your life for one of us. Spare him, Ko-tah!” she cried to
the advancing Javadar, “and I will bow to the will of the people and
relinquish the throne to you.”

“Ko-tah the traitor shall never sit upon the throne of Nah-ee-lah!” I
exclaimed, and leaping forward, I engaged the Prince of Laythe.

His warriors were close behind him, and it behooved me to work fast,
and so I fought as I had never guessed that it lay within me to
fight, and at the instant that the rabble broke through the remaining
defenders and poured into the throne room of the Jemadars of Laythe,
I slipped my point into the heart of Ko-tah. With a single piercing
shriek, he threw his hands above his head and toppled backward down
the steps to lie dead at the foot of the throne he had betrayed.

For an instant the silence of death reigned in the great chamber.
Friend and foe stood alike in the momentary paralysis of shocked
surprise.

That tense, breathless silence had endured for but a moment, when it
was shattered by a terrific detonation. We felt the palace tremble
and rock. The assembled mob looked wildly about, their eyes filled
with fear and questioning. But before they could voice a question,
another thunderous report burst upon our startled ears, and then from
the city below the palace there arose the shrieks and screams of
terrified people. Again the palace trembled, and a great crack opened
in one of the walls of the throne room. The people saw it, and in an
instant their anger against the dynasty of Sagroth was swallowed in
the moral terror which they felt for their own safety. With shrieks
and screams they turned and bolted for the doorway. The weaker were
knocked down and trampled upon. They fought with fists and swords and
daggers, in their mad efforts to escape the crumbling building. They
tore the clothing from one another, as each sought to drag back his
fellow, that he might gain further in the race for the outer world.

And as the rabble fought, Nah-ee-lah and I stood before the throne of
Laythe, watching them, while below us the few remaining members of
the Jemadar’s guard stood viewing in silent contempt the terror of
the people.

Explosion after explosion followed one another in rapid succession.
The people had fled. The palace was empty, except for that handful of
us faithful ones who remained within the throne room.

“Let us go,” I said to Nah-ee-lah, “and discover the origin of these
sounds, and the extent of the damage that is being done.”

“Come,” she said, “here is a short corridor to the inner terrace,
where we may look down upon the entire city of Laythe.” And then,
turning to the commander of the guard she said: “Proceed, please, to
the palace gates, and secure them against the return of our enemies,
if they have by this time all fled from the palace grounds.”

The officer bowed, and followed by the few heroic survivors of the
Jemadar’s guard, he left by another corridor for the palace gates,
while I followed Nah-ee-lah up a stairway that led to the roof of the
palace.

Coming out upon the upper terrace, we made our way quickly to the
edge overlooking the city and the crater. Below us a shrieking
multitude ran hither and thither from terrace to terrace, while, now
here and now there, terrific explosions occurred that shattered age-
old structures and carried debris high into the air. Many terraces
showed great gaps and tumbled ruins where other explosions had
occurred and smoke and flames were rising from a dozen portions of
the city.

But an instant it took me to realize that the explosions were caused
by something that was being dropped into the city from above, and as
I looked up I saw a missile describing an arc above the palace, past
which it hurtled to a terrace far below, and at once I realized that
the missile had originated outside the city. Turning quickly, I ran
across the terrace to the outer side which overlooked the plateau
upon which the city stood. I could not repress an exclamation of
astonishment at the sight that greeted my eyes, for the surface of
the plateau was alive with warriors. Nah-ee-lah had followed me and
was standing at my elbow. “The Kalkars,” she said. “They have come
again to reduce Laythe. It has been long since they attempted it,
many generations ago, but what is it, Julian, that causes the great
noise and the destruction and the fires within Laythe?”

“It is this which fills me with surprise,” I said, “and not the
presence of the Kalkar warriors. Look! Nah-ee-lah,” and I pointed to
a knoll lying at the verge of the plateau, where, unless my eyes
deceived me badly, there was mounted a mortar which was hurling
shells into the city of Laythe. “And there, and there,” I continued,
pointing to other similar engines of destruction mounted at
intervals. “The city is surrounded with them, Nah-ee-lah. Have your
people any knowledge of such engines of warfare or of high
explosives?” I demanded.

“Only in our legends are such things mentioned,” she replied. “It has
been ages since the inhabitants of Va-nah lost the art of
manufacturing such things.”

As we stood there talking, one of the Jemadar’s guards emerged from
the palace and approached us.

“Nah-ee-lah, Jemadav,” he cried, “there is one here who craves
audience with you and who says that if you listen to him you may save
your city from destruction.”

“Fetch him,” replied Nah-ee-lah. “We will receive him here.”

We had but a moment to wait when the guardsman returned with one of
Ko-tah’s captains.

“Nah-ee-lah, Jemadav,” he cried, when she had given him permission to
speak, “I come to you with a message from one who is Jemadar of
Jemadars, ruler of all Va-nah. If you would save your city and your
people, listen well.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed. “You are speaking to your Jemadav, fellow,”
she said. “Be careful, not only of your words, but of your tone.”

“I come but to save you,” replied the man sullenly. “The Kalkars have
discovered a great leader, and they have joined together from many
cities to overthrow Laythe. My master does not wish to destroy this
ancient city, and there is but one simple condition upon which he
will spare it.”

“Name your condition,” said Nah-ee-lah.

“If you will wed him, he will make Laythe the capital of Va-nah, and
you shall rule with him as Jemadav of Jemadavs.” Nah-ee-lah’s lips
curled in scorn. “And who is the presumptuous Kalkar that dares
aspire to the hand of Nah-ee-lah?” she demanded.

“He is no Kalkar, Jemadav,” replied the messenger. “He is one from
another world, who says that he knows you well and that he has loved
you long.”

“His name,” snapped Nah-ee-lah impatiently.

“He is called Or-tis, Jemadar of Jemadars.” Nah-ee-lah turned toward
me with elevated brows and a smile of comprehension upon her face.

“Or-tis,” she repeated.

“Now, I understand, my Jemadav,” I said, “and I am commencing to have
some slight conception of the time that must have elapsed since I
first landed within Va-nah, for even since our escape from the Va-
gas, Orthis has had time to discover the Kalkars and ingratiate
himself among them, to conspire with them for the overthrow of
Laythe, and to manufacture explosives and shells and the guns which
are reducing Laythe this moment. Even had I not heard the name, I
might have guessed that it was Orthis, for it is all so like him—
ingrate, traitor, cur.”

“Go back to your master,” she said to the messenger, “and tell him
that Nah-ee-lah, Jemadav of Laythe, would as leave mate with Ga-va-go
the Va-ga as with him, and that Laythe will be happier destroyed and
her people wiped from the face of Va-nah than ruled by such a beast.
I have spoken. Go.”

The fellow turned and left us, being accompanied from Nah-ee-lah’s
presence by the guardsman who had fetched him, and whom Nah-ee-lah
commanded to return as soon as he had conducted the other outside the
palace gates. Then the girl turned to me:

“O, Julian, what shall I do? How may I combat those terrible forces
that you have brought to Va-nah from another world?”

I shook my head. “We, too, could manufacture both guns and ammunition
to combat him, but now we have not the time, since Laythe will be
reduced to a mass of ruins before we could even make a start. There
is but one way, Nah-ee-lah, and that is to send your people—every
fighting man that you can gather, and the women, too, if they can
bear arms, out upon the plateau in an effort to overwhelm the Kalkars
and destroy the guns.”

She stood and thought for a long time, and presently the officer of
the guard returned and halted before her, awaiting her commands.
Slowly she raised her head and looked at him.

“Go into the city,” she said, “and gather every Laythean who can
carry a sword, a dagger, or a lance. Tell them to assemble on the
inner terraces below the castle, and that I, Nah-ee-lah their
Jemadav, will address them. The fate of Laythe rests with you. Go.”




CHAPTER XIV


THE BARSOOM!


The city was already in flames in many places, and though the people
fought valiantly to extinguish them, it seemed to me that they but
spread the more rapidly with each succeeding minute. And then, as
suddenly as it had commenced, the bombardment ceased. Nah-ee-lah and
I crossed over to the outer edge of the terrace to see if we could
note any new movement by the enemy, nor did we have long to wait. We
saw a hundred ladders raised as if by magic toward the lowest
terrace, which rose but a bare two hundred feet above the base of the
city. The men who carried the ladders were not visible to us when
they came close to the base of the wall, but I guessed from the
distant glimpses that I caught of the ladders as they were rushed
forward by running men that here, again, Orthis’ earthly knowledge
and experience had come to the assistance of the Kalkars, for I was
sure that only some form of extension ladder could be successfully
used to reach even the lowest terrace.

When I saw their intention I ran quickly down into the palace and out
upon the terrace before the gates, where the remainder of the guard
were stationed, and there I told them what was happening and urged
them to hasten the people to the lowest terrace to repulse the enemy
before they had secured a foothold upon the city. Then I returned to
Nah-ee-lah, and together we watched the outcome of the struggle, but
almost from the first I realized that Laythe was doomed, for before
any of her defenders could reach the spot, fully a thousand Kalkars
had clambered to the terrace, and there they held their own while
other thousands ascended in safety to the city.

We saw the defenders rush forth to attack them, and for a moment, so
impetuous was their charge, I thought that I had been wrong and that
the Kalkars might yet be driven from Laythe. Fighting upon the lower
outer terrace far beneath us was a surging mass of shouting warriors.
The Kalkars were falling back before the impetuous onslaught of the
Laytheans.

“They have not the blood in their veins,” whispered Nah-ee-lah,
clinging tightly to my arm. “One noble is worth ten of them. Watch
them. Already are they fleeing.”

And so it seemed, and the rout of the Kalkars appeared almost
assured, as score upon score of them were hurled over the edge of the
terrace, to fall mangled and bleeding upon the ground hundreds of
feet below.

But suddenly a new force seemed to be injected into the strife. I saw
a stream of Kalkars emerging above the edge of the lower terrace—new
men clambering up the ladders from the plateau below, and as they
came they shouted something which I could not understand, but the
other Kalkars seemed to take heart and made once more the semblance
of a stand against the noble Laytheans, and I saw one, the leader of
the newcomers, force his way into the battling throng. And then I saw
him raise his hand above his head and hurl something into the midst
of the compact ranks of the Laytheans.

Instantly there was a terrific explosion and a great, bloody gap lay
upon the terrace where an instant before a hundred of the flower of
the fighting men of Laythe had been so gloriously defending their
city and their honor.

“Grenades,” I exclaimed. “Hand grenades!”

“What is it, Julian? What is it that they are doing down there?”
cried Nah-ee-lah. “They are murdering my people.”

“Yes, Nah-ee-lah, they are murdering your people, and well may Va-nah
curse the day that Earth Men set foot upon your world.”

“I do not understand, Julian,” she said.

“This is the work of Orthis,” I said, “who has brought from Earth the
knowledge of diabolical engines of destruction. He first shelled the
city with what must have been nothing more than crude mortars, for it
is impossible that he has had the time to construct the machinery to
build any but the simplest of guns. Now his troops are hurling hand
grenades among your men. There is no chance, Nah-ee-lah, for the
Laytheans to successfully pit their primitive weapons against the
modern agents of destruction which Orthis has brought to bear against
them. Laythe must surrender or be destroyed.”

Nah-ee-lah laid her head upon my shoulder and wept softly. “Julian,”
she said at last, “this is the end, then. Take me to the Jemadav, my
mother, please, and then you must go and make your peace with your
fellow Earth Man. It is not right that you, a stranger, who have done
so much for me, should fall with me and Laythe.”

“The only peace I can make with Orthis, Nah-ee-lah,” I replied, “is
the peace of death. Orthis and I may not live together again in the
same world.”

She was crying very softly, sobbing upon my shoulder, and I put my
arm about her in an effort to quiet her.

“I have brought you only suffering and danger, and now death, Julian,”
she said, “when you deserve naught but happiness and peace.”

I suddenly felt very strange and my heart behaved wretchedly, so that
when I attempted to speak it pounded so that I could say nothing and
my knees shook beneath me. What had come over me? Could it be
possible that already Orthis had loosed his poison gas? Then, at
last, I managed to gather myself together.

“Nah-ee-lah,” I said, “I do not fear death if you must die, and I do
not seek happiness except with you.”

She looked up suddenly, her great, tear-dimmed eyes wide and gazing
deep into mine.

“You mean—Julian? You mean—?”

“I mean, Nah-ee-lah, that I love you,” I replied, though I must have
stumbled through the words in a most ridiculous manner, so frightened
was I.

“Ah, Julian,” she sighed, and put her arms about my neck.

“And you, Nah-ee-lah!” I exclaimed incredulously, as I crushed her to
me, “can it be that you return my love?”

“I have loved you always,” she replied. “From the very first, almost—
way back when we were prisoners together in the No-vans’ village. You
Earth Men must be very blind, my Julian. A Laythean would have known
it at once, for it seemed to me that upon a dozen occasions I almost
avowed my love openly to you.”

“Alas, Nah-ee-lah! I must have been very blind, for I had not guessed
until this minute that you loved me.”

“Now,” she said, “I do not care what happens. We have one another,
and if we die together, doubtless we shall live together in a new
incarnation.”

“I hope so,” I said, “but I should much rather be sure of it and live
together in this.”

“And I, too, Julian, but that is impossible.”

We were walking now through the corridors of the palace toward the
chamber occupied by her mother, but we did not find her there and Nah-
ee-lah became apprehensive as to her safety. Hurriedly we searched
through other chambers of the palace, until at last we came to the
little audience chamber in which Sagroth had been slain, and as we
threw open the door I saw a sight that I tried to hide from Nah-ee-
lah’s eyes as I drew her around in an effort to force her back into
the corridor. Possibly she guessed what impelled my action, for she
shook her head and murmured: “No, Julian; whatever it is I must see
it.” And then she pushed her way gently past me, and we stood
together upon the threshold, looking at the harrowing sight which the
interior of the room displayed.

There were the bodies of the assassins Sagroth and I had slain, and
the dead Jemadar, too, precisely as he had fallen, while across his
breast lay the body of Nah-ee-lah’s mother, a dagger self-thrust
through her heart. For just a moment Nah-ee-lah stood there looking
at them in silence, as though in prayer, and then she turned wearily
away and left the chamber, closing the door behind her. We walked on
in silence for some time, ascending the stairway back to the upper
terrace. Upon the inner side, the flames were spreading throughout
the city, roaring like a mighty furnace and vomiting up great clouds
of smoke, for though the Laythean terraces are supported by
tremendous arches of masonry, yet there is much wood used in the
interior construction of the buildings, while the hangings and the
furniture are all inflammable.

“We had no chance to save the city,” said Nah-ee-lah, with a sigh.
“Our people, called from their normal duties by the false Ko-tah,
were leaderless. The fire fighters, instead of being at their posts,
were seeking the life of their Jemadar. Unhappy day! Unhappy day!”

“You think they could have stopped the fire?” I asked.

“The little ponds, the rivulets, the waterfalls, the great public
baths and the tiny lakes that you see upon every terrace were all
built with fire protection in mind. It is easy to divert their waters
and flood any tier of buildings. Had my people been at their posts,
this, at least, could not have happened.”

As we stood watching the flames we suddenly saw people emerging in
great numbers upon several of the lower terraces. They were evidently
in terrified flight, and then others appeared upon terraces above
them—Kalkars who hurled hand grenades amongst the Laytheans beneath
them. Men, women, and children ran hither and thither, shrieking and
crying and seeking for shelter, but from the buildings behind them,
rushing them outward upon the terraces, came other Kalkars with hand
grenades. The fires hemmed the people of Laythe upon either side and
the Kalkars attacked them from the rear and from above. The weaker
fell and were trodden to death, and I saw scores fall upon their own
lances or drive daggers into the hearts of their loved ones.

The massacre spread rapidly around the circumference of the city and
the Kalkars drove the people from the upper terraces downward between
the raging fires which were increasing until the mouth of the great
crater was filled with roaring flames and smoke. In the occasional
gaps we could catch glimpses of the holocaust beneath us.

A sudden current of air rising from the crater lifted the smoke pall
high for a moment, revealing the entire circumference of the crater,
the edge of which was crowded with Laytheans. And then I saw a
warrior from the opposite side leap upon the surrounding wall that
bordered the lower terrace at the edge of the yawning crater. He
turned and called aloud some message, to his fellows, and then
wheeling, threw his arms above his head and leaped outward into the
yawning, bottomless abyss. Instantly the others seemed to be
inoculated with the infection of his mad act. A dozen men leaped to
the wall and dove head foremost into the crater. The thing spread
slowly at first, and then with the rapidity of a prairie fire, it ran
around the entire circle of the city. Women hurled their children in
and then leaped after them. The multitude fought one with another for
a place upon the wall from which they might cast themselves to death.
It was a terrible—an awe-inspiring sight.

Nah-ee-lah covered her eyes with her hands. “My poor people!” she
cried. “My poor people!” And far below her, by the thousands now,
they were hurling themselves into eternity, while above them the
screaming Kalkars hurled hand grenades among them and drove the
remaining inhabitants of Laythe, terrace by terrace, down toward the
crater’s rim.

Nah-ee-lah turned away. “Come, Julian,” she said, “I cannot look, I
cannot look.” And together we walked across the terrace to the outer
side of the city.

Almost directly beneath us upon the next terrace was a palace gate
and as we reached a point where we could see it, I was horrified to
see that the Kalkars had made their way up the outer terraces to the
very palace walls. The Jemadar’s guard was standing there ready to
defend the palace against the invaders. The great stone gates would
have held indefinitely against spears and swords, but even the
guardsmen must have guessed that their doom was already sealed and
that these gates, that had stood for ages, an ample protection to the
Jemadars of Laythe, were about to fall, as the Kalkars halted fifty
yards away, and from their ranks a single individual stepped forth a
few paces.

As my eyes alighted upon him I seized Nah-ee-lah’s arm. “Orthis!” I
cried. “It is Orthis.” At the same instant the man’s eyes rose above
the gates and fell upon us. A nasty leer curled his lips as he
recognized us.

“I come to claim my bride,” he cried, in a voice that reached us
easily, “and to balance my account with you, at last,” and he pointed
a finger at me.

In his right hand he held a large, cylindrical object, and as he
ceased speaking he hurled it at the gates precisely as a baseball
pitcher pitches a swift ball.

The missile struck squarely at the bottom of the gates. There was a
terrific explosion, and the great stone portals crumbled, shattered
into a thousand fragments. The last defense of the Empress of Laythe
had fallen, and with it there went down in bloody death at least half
the remaining members of her loyal guard.

Instantly the Kalkars rushed forward, hurling hand grenades among the
survivors of the guard.

Nah-ee-lah turned toward me and put her arms about my neck.

“Kiss me once more, Julian,” she said, “and then the dagger.”

“Never, never, Nah-ee-lah!” I cried. “I cannot do it.”

“But I can!” she exclaimed, and drew her own from its sheath at her
hip.

I seized her wrist. “Not that, Nah-ee-lah!” I cried. “There must be
some other way.” And then there came to me a mad inspiration. “The
wings!” I cried. “Where are they kept? The last of your people have
been destroyed. Duty no longer holds you here. Let us escape, even if
it is only to frustrate Orthis’ plans and deny him the satisfaction
of witnessing our death.”

“But, where can we go?” she asked.

“We may at least choose our own manner of death,” I replied, “far
from Laythe and far from the eyes of an enemy who would gloat over
our undoing.”

“You are right, Julian. We still have a little time, for I doubt if
Orthis or his Kalkars can quickly find the stairway leading to this
terrace.” And then she led me quickly to one of the many towers that
rise above the palace. Entering it, we ascended a spiral staircase to
a large chamber at the summit of the tower. Here were kept the
imperial wings. I fastened Nah-ee-lah’s to her and she helped me with
mine, and then from the pinnacle of the tower we arose above the
burning city of Laythe and flew rapidly toward the distant lowlands
and the sea. It was in my mind to search out, if possible, the
location of _The Barsoom_, for I still entertained the mad hope that
my companions yet lived—if I did, why not they?

The heat above the city was almost unendurable and the smoke
suffocating, yet we passed through it, so that almost immediately we
were hidden from the view of that portion of the palace from which we
had arisen, with the result that when Orthis and his Kalkars finally
found their way to the upper terrace, as I have no doubt they did, we
had disappeared—whither they could not know.

We flew and drifted with the wind across the mountainous country
toward the plains and the sea, it being my intention upon reaching
the latter to follow the coast line until I came to a river marked by
an island at its mouth. From that point I knew that I could reach the
spot where _The Barsoom_ had landed.

Our long flight must have covered a considerable period of time,
since it was necessary for us to alight and rest many times and to
search for food. We met, fortunately, with no mishaps, and upon the
several occasions when we were discovered by roving bands of Va-gas
we were able to soar far aloft and escape them easily. We came at
length, however, to the sea, the coast of which I followed to the
left, but though we passed the mouths of many rivers, I discovered
none that precisely answered the description of that which I sought.

It was borne in upon me at last that our quest was futile, but where
we were to find a haven of safety neither of us could guess. The gas
in our bags was losing its buoyancy and we had no means wherewith to
replenish it. It would still maintain us for a short time, but how
long neither of us knew, other than that it had not nearly the
buoyancy that it originally possessed.

Off the coast we had seen islands almost continuously and I suggested
to Nah-ee-lah that we try to discover one upon which grew the fruits
and nuts and vegetables necessary for our subsistence, and where we
might also have a constant supply of fresh water.

I discovered that Nah-ee-lah knew little about these islands,
practically nothing in fact, not even as to whether they were
inhabited; but we determined to explore one, and to this end we
selected an island of considerable extent that lay about ten miles
off shore. We reached it without difficulty and circled slowly above
it, scrutinizing its entire area carefully. About half of it was
quite hilly, but the balance was rolling and comparatively level. We
discovered three streams and two small lakes upon it, and an almost
riotous profusion of vegetable growth, but nowhere did we discern the
slightest indication that it was inhabited. And so at last, feeling
secure, we made our landing upon the plain, close to the beach.

It was a beautiful spot, a veritable Garden of Eden, where we two
might have passed the remainder of our lives in peace and security,
for though we later explored it carefully, we found not the slightest
evidence that it had ever known the foot of man.

Together we built a snug shelter against the storms. Together we
hunted for food, and during our long periods of idleness we lay upon
the soft sward beside the beach, and to pass the time away, I taught
Nah-ee-lah my own language. It was a lazy, indolent, happy life that
we spent upon this enchanted isle, and yet, though we were happy in
our love, each of us felt the futility of our existence, where our
lives must be spent in useless idleness.

We had, however, given up definitely hope for any other form of
existence. And thus we were lying one time, as was our wont after
eating, stretched in luxurious ease upon our backs on the soft lunar
grasses, I with my eyes closed, when Nah-ee-lah suddenly grasped me
by the arm.

“Julian,” she cried, “what is it? Look!”

I opened my eyes, to find her sitting up and gazing into the sky
toward the mainland, a slim forefinger indicating the direction of
the object that had attracted her attention and aroused her surprised
interest.

As my eyes rested upon the thing her pointing finger indicated, I
leaped to my feet with an exclamation of incredulity, for there,
sailing parallel with the coast at an altitude of not more than a
thousand feet, was a ship, the lines of which I knew as I had known
my mother’s face. It was _The Barsoom_.

Grasping Nah-ee-lah by the arm, I dragged her to her feet. “Come,
quick, Nah-ee-lah!” I cried, and urged her rapidly toward our hut,
where we had stored the wings and the gas bags which we had never
thought to use again, yet protected carefully, though why we knew
not.

There was still gas in the bags—enough to support us in the air, with
the assistance of our wings, but to fly thus for long distances would
have been most fatiguing, and there was even a question as to whether
we could cross the ten miles of sea that lay between us and the
mainland; yet I was determined to attempt it. Hastily we donned the
wings and bags, and rising together, flapped slowly in the direction
of the mainland.

_The Barsoom_ was cruising slowly along a line that would cross ours
before we could reach the shore, but I hoped that they would sight us
and investigate.

We flew as rapidly as I dared, for I could take no chances upon
exhausting Nah-ee-lah, knowing that it would be absolutely impossible
for me to support her weight and my own, with our depleted gas bags.
There was no way in which I could signal to _The Barsoom_. We must
simply fly toward her. That was the best that we could do, and
finally, try though we would, I realized that we should be too late
to intercept her and that unless they saw us and changed their
course, we should not come close enough to hail them. To see my
friends passing so near, and yet to be unable to apprise them of my
presence filled me with melancholy. Not one of the many vicissitudes
and dangers through which I had passed since I left Earth depressed
me more than the sight of _The Barsoom_ forging slowly past us
without speaking. I saw her change her course then and move inland
still further from us, and I could not but dwell upon our unhappy
condition, since now we might never again be able to reach the safety
of our island, there being even a question as to whether the gas bags
would support us to the mainland.

They did, however, and there we alighted and rested, while _The
Barsoom_ sailed out of sight toward the mountains.

“I shall not give it up, Nah-ee-lah,” I cried. “I am going to follow
_The Barsoom_ until we find it, or until we die in the attempt. I
doubt if we ever can reach the island again, but we can make short
flights here on land, and by so doing, we may overtake my ship and my
companions.”

After resting for a short time, we arose again, and when we were
above the trees I saw _The Barsoom_ far in the distance, and again it
was circling, this time toward the left, so we altered our course and
flew after it. But presently we realized that it was making a great
circle and hope renewed within our breasts, giving us the strength to
fly on and on, though we were forced to come down often for brief
rests. As we neared the ship we saw that the circles were growing
smaller, but it was not until we were within about three miles of her
that I realized that she was circling the mouth of a great crater,
the walls of which rose several hundred feet above the surrounding
country. We had been forced to land again to rest, when there flashed
upon my mind a sudden realization of the purpose of the maneuvers of
_The Barsoom_—she was investigating the crater, preparatory to an
attempt to pass through it into outer space and seek to return to
Earth again.

As this thought impinged upon my brain, a wave of almost hopeless
horror overwhelmed me as I thought of being definitely left forever
by my companions and that by but a few brief minutes Nah-ee-lah was
to be robbed of life and happiness and peace, for at that instant the
hull of _The Barsoom_ dropped beneath the rim of the crater and
disappeared from our view.

Rising quickly with Nah-ee-lah, I flew as rapidly as my tired muscles
and exhausted gas bag would permit toward the rim of the crater. In
my heart of hearts I knew that I should be too late, for once they
had decided to make the attempt, the ship would drop like a plummet
into the depths, and by the time I reached the mouth of the abyss it
would be lost to my view forever.

And yet I struggled on, my lungs almost bursting from the exertion of
my mad efforts toward speed. Nah-ee-lah trailed far behind, for if
either of us could reach _The Barsoom_ in time we should both be
saved, and I could fly faster than Nah-ee-lah; otherwise, I should
never have separated myself from her by so much as a hundred yards.

Though my lungs were pumping like bellows, I venture to say that my
heart stood still for several seconds before I topped the crater’s
rim.

At the same instant that I expected the last vestige of my hopes to
be dashed to pieces irrevocably and forever, I crossed the rim and
beheld _The Barsoom_ not twenty feet below me, just over the edge of
the abyss, and upon her deck stood West and Jay and Norton.

As I came into view directly above them, West whipped out his
revolver and leveled it at me, but the instant that his finger
pressed the trigger Norton sprang forward and struck his hand aside.

“My God, sir!” I heard the boy cry, “it is the Captain.” And then
they all recognized me, and an instant later I almost collapsed as I
fell to the deck of my beloved ship.

My first thought was of Nah-ee-lah, and at my direction _The Barsoom_
rose swiftly and moved to meet her.

“Great Scott!” cried my guest, leaping to his feet and looking out of
the stateroom window, “I had no idea that I had kept you up all
night. Here we are in Paris already.”

“But the rest of your story,” I cried. “You have not finished it, I
know. Last night, as you were watching them celebrating in the Blue
Room, you made a remark which led me to believe that some terrible
calamity threatened the world.”

“It does,” he said, “and that was what I meant to tell you about, but
this story of the third incarnation of which I am conscious was
necessary to an understanding of how the great catastrophe
overwhelmed the people of the earth.”

“But, did you reach Earth again?” I demanded.

“Yes,” he said, “in the year 2036. I had been ten years within Va-
nah, but did not know whether it was ten months or a century until we
landed upon Earth.”

He smiled then. “You notice that I still say I. It is sometimes
difficult for me to recall which incarnation I am in. Perhaps it will
be clearer to you if I say Julian 5th returned to Earth in 2036, and
in the same year his son, Julian 6th, was born to his wife, Nah-ee-
lah the Moon Maid.”

“But how could he return to Earth in the disabled _Barsoom_?”

“Ah,” he said, “that raises a point that was of great interest to
Julian 5th. After he regained _The Barsoom_, naturally one of the
first questions he asked was as to the condition of the ship and
their intentions, and when he learned that they had, in reality, been
intending to pass through the crater toward the Earth he questioned
them further and discovered that it was the young ensign, Norton, who
had repaired the engine, having been able to do it by information
that he had gleaned from Orthis, after winning the latter’s
friendship. Thus was explained the intimacy between the two, which
Julian 5th had so deplored, but which he now saw that young Norton
had encouraged for a patriotic purpose.

“We are docked now and I must be going. Thank you for your
hospitality and for your generous interest,” and he held out his hand
toward me.

“But the story of Julian 9th,” I insisted, “am I never to hear that?”

“If we meet again, yes,” he promised, with a smile.

“I shall hold you to it,” I told him.

“If we meet again,” he repeated, and departed, closing the stateroom
door after him.