Champion And Chief

: A Princess Of Mars

Early the next morning I was astir. Considerable freedom was allowed

me, as Sola had informed me that so long as I did not attempt to leave

the city I was free to go and come as I pleased. She had warned me,

however, against venturing forth unarmed, as this city, like all other

deserted metropolises of an ancient Martian civilization, was peopled

by the great white apes of my second day's adventure.



In dvising me that I must not leave the boundaries of the city Sola

had explained that Woola would prevent this anyway should I attempt it,

and she warned me most urgently not to arouse his fierce nature by

ignoring his warnings should I venture too close to the forbidden

territory. His nature was such, she said, that he would bring me back

into the city dead or alive should I persist in opposing him;

"preferably dead," she added.



On this morning I had chosen a new street to explore when suddenly I

found myself at the limits of the city. Before me were low hills

pierced by narrow and inviting ravines. I longed to explore the

country before me, and, like the pioneer stock from which I sprang, to

view what the landscape beyond the encircling hills might disclose from

the summits which shut out my view.



It also occurred to me that this would prove an excellent opportunity

to test the qualities of Woola. I was convinced that the brute loved

me; I had seen more evidences of affection in him than in any other

Martian animal, man or beast, and I was sure that gratitude for the

acts that had twice saved his life would more than outweigh his loyalty

to the duty imposed upon him by cruel and loveless masters.



As I approached the boundary line Woola ran anxiously before me, and

thrust his body against my legs. His expression was pleading rather

than ferocious, nor did he bare his great tusks or utter his fearful

guttural warnings. Denied the friendship and companionship of my kind,

I had developed considerable affection for Woola and Sola, for the

normal earthly man must have some outlet for his natural affections,

and so I decided upon an appeal to a like instinct in this great brute,

sure that I would not be disappointed.



I had never petted nor fondled him, but now I sat upon the ground and

putting my arms around his heavy neck I stroked and coaxed him, talking

in my newly acquired Martian tongue as I would have to my hound at

home, as I would have talked to any other friend among the lower

animals. His response to my manifestation of affection was remarkable

to a degree; he stretched his great mouth to its full width, baring the

entire expanse of his upper rows of tusks and wrinkling his snout until

his great eyes were almost hidden by the folds of flesh. If you have

ever seen a collie smile you may have some idea of Woola's facial

distortion.



He threw himself upon his back and fairly wallowed at my feet; jumped

up and sprang upon me, rolling me upon the ground by his great weight;

then wriggling and squirming around me like a playful puppy presenting

its back for the petting it craves. I could not resist the

ludicrousness of the spectacle, and holding my sides I rocked back and

forth in the first laughter which had passed my lips in many days; the

first, in fact, since the morning Powell had left camp when his horse,

long unused, had precipitately and unexpectedly bucked him off

headforemost into a pot of frijoles.



My laughter frightened Woola, his antics ceased and he crawled

pitifully toward me, poking his ugly head far into my lap; and then I

remembered what laughter signified on Mars--torture, suffering, death.

Quieting myself, I rubbed the poor old fellow's head and back, talked

to him for a few minutes, and then in an authoritative tone commanded

him to follow me, and arising started for the hills.



There was no further question of authority between us; Woola was my

devoted slave from that moment hence, and I his only and undisputed

master. My walk to the hills occupied but a few minutes, and I found

nothing of particular interest to reward me. Numerous brilliantly

colored and strangely formed wild flowers dotted the ravines and from

the summit of the first hill I saw still other hills stretching off

toward the north, and rising, one range above another, until lost in

mountains of quite respectable dimensions; though I afterward found

that only a few peaks on all Mars exceed four thousand feet in height;

the suggestion of magnitude was merely relative.



My morning's walk had been large with importance to me for it had

resulted in a perfect understanding with Woola, upon whom Tars Tarkas

relied for my safe keeping. I now knew that while theoretically a

prisoner I was virtually free, and I hastened to regain the city limits

before the defection of Woola could be discovered by his erstwhile

masters. The adventure decided me never again to leave the limits of

my prescribed stamping grounds until I was ready to venture forth for

good and all, as it would certainly result in a curtailment of my

liberties, as well as the probable death of Woola, were we to be

discovered.



On regaining the plaza I had my third glimpse of the captive girl. She

was standing with her guards before the entrance to the audience

chamber, and as I approached she gave me one haughty glance and turned

her back full upon me. The act was so womanly, so earthly womanly,

that though it stung my pride it also warmed my heart with a feeling of

companionship; it was good to know that someone else on Mars beside

myself had human instincts of a civilized order, even though the

manifestation of them was so painful and mortifying.



Had a green Martian woman desired to show dislike or contempt she

would, in all likelihood, have done it with a sword thrust or a

movement of her trigger finger; but as their sentiments are mostly

atrophied it would have required a serious injury to have aroused such

passions in them. Sola, let me add, was an exception; I never saw her

perform a cruel or uncouth act, or fail in uniform kindliness and good

nature. She was indeed, as her fellow Martian had said of her, an

atavism; a dear and precious reversion to a former type of loved and

loving ancestor.



Seeing that the prisoner seemed the center of attraction I halted to

view the proceedings. I had not long to wait for presently Lorquas

Ptomel and his retinue of chieftains approached the building and,

signing the guards to follow with the prisoner entered the audience

chamber. Realizing that I was a somewhat favored character, and also

convinced that the warriors did not know of my proficiency in their

language, as I had pleaded with Sola to keep this a secret on the

grounds that I did not wish to be forced to talk with the men until I

had perfectly mastered the Martian tongue, I chanced an attempt to

enter the audience chamber and listen to the proceedings.



The council squatted upon the steps of the rostrum, while below them

stood the prisoner and her two guards. I saw that one of the women was

Sarkoja, and thus understood how she had been present at the hearing of

the preceding day, the results of which she had reported to the

occupants of our dormitory last night. Her attitude toward the captive

was most harsh and brutal. When she held her, she sunk her rudimentary

nails into the poor girl's flesh, or twisted her arm in a most painful

manner. When it was necessary to move from one spot to another she

either jerked her roughly, or pushed her headlong before her. She

seemed to be venting upon this poor defenseless creature all the

hatred, cruelty, ferocity, and spite of her nine hundred years, backed

by unguessable ages of fierce and brutal ancestors.



The other woman was less cruel because she was entirely indifferent; if

the prisoner had been left to her alone, and fortunately she was at

night, she would have received no harsh treatment, nor, by the same

token would she have received any attention at all.



As Lorquas Ptomel raised his eyes to address the prisoner they fell on

me and he turned to Tars Tarkas with a word, and gesture of impatience.

Tars Tarkas made some reply which I could not catch, but which caused

Lorquas Ptomel to smile; after which they paid no further attention to

me.



"What is your name?" asked Lorquas Ptomel, addressing the prisoner.



"Dejah Thoris, daughter of Mors Kajak of Helium."



"And the nature of your expedition?" he continued.



"It was a purely scientific research party sent out by my father's

father, the Jeddak of Helium, to rechart the air currents, and to take

atmospheric density tests," replied the fair prisoner, in a low,

well-modulated voice.



"We were unprepared for battle," she continued, "as we were on a

peaceful mission, as our banners and the colors of our craft denoted.

The work we were doing was as much in your interests as in ours, for

you know full well that were it not for our labors and the fruits of

our scientific operations there would not be enough air or water on

Mars to support a single human life. For ages we have maintained the

air and water supply at practically the same point without an

appreciable loss, and we have done this in the face of the brutal and

ignorant interference of your green men.



"Why, oh, why will you not learn to live in amity with your fellows,

must you ever go on down the ages to your final extinction but little

above the plane of the dumb brutes that serve you! A people without

written language, without art, without homes, without love; the victim

of eons of the horrible community idea. Owning everything in common,

even to your women and children, has resulted in your owning nothing in

common. You hate each other as you hate all else except yourselves.

Come back to the ways of our common ancestors, come back to the light

of kindliness and fellowship. The way is open to you, you will find

the hands of the red men stretched out to aid you. Together we may do

still more to regenerate our dying planet. The granddaughter of the

greatest and mightiest of the red jeddaks has asked you. Will you

come?"



Lorquas Ptomel and the warriors sat looking silently and intently at

the young woman for several moments after she had ceased speaking.

What was passing in their minds no man may know, but that they were

moved I truly believe, and if one man high among them had been strong

enough to rise above custom, that moment would have marked a new and

mighty era for Mars.



I saw Tars Tarkas rise to speak, and on his face was such an expression

as I had never seen upon the countenance of a green Martian warrior.

It bespoke an inward and mighty battle with self, with heredity, with

age-old custom, and as he opened his mouth to speak, a look almost of

benignity, of kindliness, momentarily lighted up his fierce and

terrible countenance.



What words of moment were to have fallen from his lips were never

spoken, as just then a young warrior, evidently sensing the trend of

thought among the older men, leaped down from the steps of the rostrum,

and striking the frail captive a powerful blow across the face, which

felled her to the floor, placed his foot upon her prostrate form and

turning toward the assembled council broke into peals of horrid,

mirthless laughter.



For an instant I thought Tars Tarkas would strike him dead, nor did the

aspect of Lorquas Ptomel augur any too favorably for the brute, but the

mood passed, their old selves reasserted their ascendency, and they

smiled. It was portentous however that they did not laugh aloud, for

the brute's act constituted a side-splitting witticism according to the

ethics which rule green Martian humor.



That I have taken moments to write down a part of what occurred as that

blow fell does not signify that I remained inactive for any such length

of time. I think I must have sensed something of what was coming, for

I realize now that I was crouched as for a spring as I saw the blow

aimed at her beautiful, upturned, pleading face, and ere the hand

descended I was halfway across the hall.



Scarcely had his hideous laugh rang out but once, when I was upon him.

The brute was twelve feet in height and armed to the teeth, but I

believe that I could have accounted for the whole roomful in the

terrific intensity of my rage. Springing upward, I struck him full in

the face as he turned at my warning cry and then as he drew his

short-sword I drew mine and sprang up again upon his breast, hooking

one leg over the butt of his pistol and grasping one of his huge tusks

with my left hand while I delivered blow after blow upon his enormous

chest.



He could not use his short-sword to advantage because I was too close

to him, nor could he draw his pistol, which he attempted to do in

direct opposition to Martian custom which says that you may not fight a

fellow warrior in private combat with any other than the weapon with

which you are attacked. In fact he could do nothing but make a wild

and futile attempt to dislodge me. With all his immense bulk he was

little if any stronger than I, and it was but the matter of a moment or

two before he sank, bleeding and lifeless, to the floor.



Dejah Thoris had raised herself upon one elbow and was watching the

battle with wide, staring eyes. When I had regained my feet I raised

her in my arms and bore her to one of the benches at the side of the

room.



Again no Martian interfered with me, and tearing a piece of silk from

my cape I endeavored to staunch the flow of blood from her nostrils. I

was soon successful as her injuries amounted to little more than an

ordinary nosebleed, and when she could speak she placed her hand upon

my arm and looking up into my eyes, said:



"Why did you do it? You who refused me even friendly recognition in

the first hour of my peril! And now you risk your life and kill one of

your companions for my sake. I cannot understand. What strange manner

of man are you, that you consort with the green men, though your form

is that of my race, while your color is little darker than that of the

white ape? Tell me, are you human, or are you more than human?"



"It is a strange tale," I replied, "too long to attempt to tell you

now, and one which I so much doubt the credibility of myself that I

fear to hope that others will believe it. Suffice it, for the present,

that I am your friend, and, so far as our captors will permit, your

protector and your servant."



"Then you too are a prisoner? But why, then, those arms and the

regalia of a Tharkian chieftain? What is your name? Where your

country?"



"Yes, Dejah Thoris, I too am a prisoner; my name is John Carter, and I

claim Virginia, one of the United States of America, Earth, as my home;

but why I am permitted to wear arms I do not know, nor was I aware that

my regalia was that of a chieftain."



We were interrupted at this juncture by the approach of one of the

warriors, bearing arms, accouterments and ornaments, and in a flash one

of her questions was answered and a puzzle cleared up for me. I saw

that the body of my dead antagonist had been stripped, and I read in

the menacing yet respectful attitude of the warrior who had brought me

these trophies of the kill the same demeanor as that evinced by the

other who had brought me my original equipment, and now for the first

time I realized that my blow, on the occasion of my first battle in the

audience chamber had resulted in the death of my adversary.



The reason for the whole attitude displayed toward me was now apparent;

I had won my spurs, so to speak, and in the crude justice, which always

marks Martian dealings, and which, among other things, has caused me to

call her the planet of paradoxes, I was accorded the honors due a

conqueror; the trappings and the position of the man I killed. In

truth, I was a Martian chieftain, and this I learned later was the

cause of my great freedom and my toleration in the audience chamber.



As I had turned to receive the dead warrior's chattels I had noticed

that Tars Tarkas and several others had pushed forward toward us, and

the eyes of the former rested upon me in a most quizzical manner.

Finally he addressed me:



"You speak the tongue of Barsoom quite readily for one who was deaf and

dumb to us a few short days ago. Where did you learn it, John Carter?"



"You, yourself, are responsible, Tars Tarkas," I replied, "in that you

furnished me with an instructress of remarkable ability; I have to

thank Sola for my learning."



"She has done well," he answered, "but your education in other respects

needs considerable polish. Do you know what your unprecedented

temerity would have cost you had you failed to kill either of the two

chieftains whose metal you now wear?"



"I presume that that one whom I had failed to kill, would have killed

me," I answered, smiling.



"No, you are wrong. Only in the last extremity of self-defense would a

Martian warrior kill a prisoner; we like to save them for other

purposes," and his face bespoke possibilities that were not pleasant to

dwell upon.



"But one thing can save you now," he continued. "Should you, in

recognition of your remarkable valor, ferocity, and prowess, be

considered by Tal Hajus as worthy of his service you may be taken into

the community and become a full-fledged Tharkian. Until we reach the

headquarters of Tal Hajus it is the will of Lorquas Ptomel that you be

accorded the respect your acts have earned you. You will be treated by

us as a Tharkian chieftain, but you must not forget that every chief

who ranks you is responsible for your safe delivery to our mighty and

most ferocious ruler. I am done."



"I hear you, Tars Tarkas," I answered. "As you know I am not of

Barsoom; your ways are not my ways, and I can only act in the future as

I have in the past, in accordance with the dictates of my conscience

and guided by the standards of mine own people. If you will leave me

alone I will go in peace, but if not, let the individual Barsoomians

with whom I must deal either respect my rights as a stranger among you,

or take whatever consequences may befall. Of one thing let us be sure,

whatever may be your ultimate intentions toward this unfortunate young

woman, whoever would offer her injury or insult in the future must

figure on making a full accounting to me. I understand that you

belittle all sentiments of generosity and kindliness, but I do not, and

I can convince your most doughty warrior that these characteristics are

not incompatible with an ability to fight."



Ordinarily I am not given to long speeches, nor ever before had I

descended to bombast, but I had guessed at the keynote which would

strike an answering chord in the breasts of the green Martians, nor was

I wrong, for my harangue evidently deeply impressed them, and their

attitude toward me thereafter was still further respectful.



Tars Tarkas himself seemed pleased with my reply, but his only comment

was more or less enigmatical--"And I think I know Tal Hajus, Jeddak of

Thark."



I now turned my attention to Dejah Thoris, and assisting her to her

feet I turned with her toward the exit, ignoring her hovering guardian

harpies as well as the inquiring glances of the chieftains. Was I not

now a chieftain also! Well, then, I would assume the responsibilities

of one. They did not molest us, and so Dejah Thoris, Princess of

Helium, and John Carter, gentleman of Virginia, followed by the

faithful Woola, passed through utter silence from the audience chamber

of Lorquas Ptomel, Jed among the Tharks of Barsoom.