I pressed my thumb upon the button which controls

the ray of repulsion, that splendid discovery of the Martians which

permits them to navigate the thin atmosphere of their planet in

huge ships that dwarf the dreadnoughts of our earthly navies into

pitiful significance.

The craft swayed slightly but she did not move. Then a new cry of

warning broke upon our ears. Turning, I saw a dozen black pirates

dashing toward us from the melee. We had been discovered. With

shrieks of rage the demons sprang for us. With frenzied insistence

I continued to press the little button which should have sent us

racing out into space, but still the vessel refused to budge. Then

it came to me--the reason that she would not rise.

We had stumbled upon a two-man flier. Its ray tanks were charged

only with sufficient repulsive energy to lift two ordinary men.

The Thark's great weight was anchoring us to our doom.

The blacks were nearly upon us. There was not an instant to be

lost in hesitation or doubt.

I pressed the button far in and locked it. Then I set the lever

at high speed and as the blacks came yelling upon us I slipped from

the craft's deck and with drawn long-sword met the attack.

At the same moment a girl's shriek rang out behind me and an instant

later, as the blacks fell upon me. I heard far above my head, and

faintly, in Thuvia's voice: "My Prince, O my Prince; I would rather

remain and die with--" But the rest was lost in the noise of my

assailants.

I knew though that my ruse had worked and that temporarily at

least Thuvia and Tars Tarkas were safe, and the means of escape

was theirs.

For a moment it seemed that I could not withstand the weight of

numbers that confronted me, but again, as on so many other occasions

when I had been called upon to face fearful odds upon this planet

of warriors and fierce beasts, I found that my earthly strength

so far transcended that of my opponents that the odds were not so

greatly against me as they appeared.

My seething blade wove a net of death about me. For an instant

the blacks pressed close to reach me with their shorter swords,

but presently they gave back, and the esteem in which they suddenly

had learned to hold my sword arm was writ large upon each countenance.

I knew though that it was but a question of minutes before their

greater numbers would wear me down, or get around my guard. I must

go down eventually to certain death before them. I shuddered at

the thought of it, dying thus in this terrible place where no word

of my end ever could reach my Dejah Thoris. Dying at the hands of

nameless black men in the gardens of the cruel therns.

Then my old-time spirit reasserted itself. The fighting blood of

my Virginian sires coursed hot through my veins. The fierce blood

lust and the joy of battle surged over me. The fighting smile that

has brought consternation to a thousand foemen touched my lips. I

put the thought of death out of my mind, and fell upon my antagonists

with fury that those who escaped will remember to their dying day.

That others would press to the support of those who faced me I

knew, so even as I fought I kept my wits at work, searching for an

avenue of escape.

It came from an unexpected quarter out of the black night behind

me. I had just disarmed a huge fellow who had given me a desperate

struggle, and for a moment the blacks stood back for a breathing

spell.

They eyed me with malignant fury, yet withal there was a touch of

respect in their demeanour.

"Thern," said one, "you fight like a Dator. But for your detestable

yellow hair and your white skin you would be an honour to the First

Born of Barsoom."

"I am no thern," I said, and was about to explain that I was from

another world, thinking that by patching a truce with these fellows

and fighting with them against the therns I might enlist their aid

in regaining my liberty. But just at that moment a heavy object

smote me a resounding whack between my shoulders that nearly felled

me to the ground.

As I turned to meet this new enemy an object passed over my shoulder,

striking one of my assailants squarely in the face and knocking him

senseless to the sward. At the same instant I saw that the thing

that had struck us was the trailing anchor of a rather fair-sized

air vessel; possibly a ten man cruiser.

The ship was floating slowly above us, not more than fifty feet

over our heads. Instantly the one chance for escape that it offered

presented itself to me. The vessel was slowly rising and now the

anchor was beyond the blacks who faced me and several feet above

their heads.

With a bound that left them gaping in wide-eyed astonishment I

sprang completely over them. A second leap carried me just high

enough to grasp the now rapidly receding anchor.

But I was successful, and there I hung by one hand, dragging through

the branches of the higher vegetation of the gardens, while my late

foemen shrieked and howled beneath me.

Presently the vessel veered toward the west and then swung gracefully

to the south. In another instant I was carried beyond the crest

of the Golden Cliffs, out over the Valley Dor, where, six thousand

feet below me, the Lost Sea of Korus lay shimmering in the moonlight.

Carefully I climbed to a sitting posture across the anchor's arms.

I wondered if by chance the vessel might be deserted. I hoped so.

Or possibly it might belong to a friendly people, and have wandered

by accident almost within the clutches of the pirates and the

therns. The fact that it was retreating from the scene of battle

lent colour to this hypothesis.

But I decided to know positively, and at once, so, with the greatest

caution, I commenced to climb slowly up the anchor chain toward

the deck above me.

One hand had just reached for the vessel's rail and found it when

a fierce black face was thrust over the side and eyes filled with

triumphant hate looked into mine.

CHAPTER VII

A FAIR GODDESS

For an instant the black pirate and I remained motionless, glaring

into each other's eyes. Then a grim smile curled the handsome

lips above me, as an ebony hand came slowly in sight from above

the edge of the deck and the cold, hollow eye of a revolver sought

the centre of my forehead.

Simultaneously my free hand shot out for the black throat, just

within reach, and the ebony finger tightened on the trigger.