"And whom," I added, "has the honour of serving

been accorded me?"

She hesitated a moment before speaking. Then she asked:

"You are no thern. Are you an enemy of the therns?"

"I have been in the territory of the therns for a day and a half.

During that entire time my life has been in constant danger. I

have been harassed and persecuted. Armed men and fierce beasts

have been set upon me. I had no quarrel with the therns before,

but can you wonder that I feel no great love for them now? I have

spoken."

She looked at me intently for several minutes before she replied.

It was as though she were attempting to read my inmost soul, to

judge my character and my standards of chivalry in that long-drawn,

searching gaze.

Apparently the inventory satisfied her.

"I am Phaidor, daughter of Matai Shang, Holy Hekkador of the Holy

Therns, Father of Therns, Master of Life and Death upon Barsoom,

Brother of Issus, Prince of Life Eternal."

At that moment I noticed that the black I had dropped with my fist

was commencing to show signs of returning consciousness. I sprang

to his side. Stripping his harness from him I securely bound his

hands behind his back, and after similarly fastening his feet tied

him to a heavy gun carriage.

"Why not the simpler way?" asked Phaidor.

"I do not understand. What 'simpler way'?" I replied.

With a slight shrug of her lovely shoulders she made a gesture with

her hands personating the casting of something over the craft's

side.

"I am no murderer," I said. "I kill in self-defence only."

She looked at me narrowly. Then she puckered those divine brows

of hers, and shook her head. She could not comprehend.

Well, neither had my own Dejah Thoris been able to understand what

to her had seemed a foolish and dangerous policy toward enemies.

Upon Barsoom, quarter is neither asked nor given, and each dead man

means so much more of the waning resources of this dying planet to

be divided amongst those who survive.

But there seemed a subtle difference here between the manner in

which this girl contemplated the dispatching of an enemy and the

tender-hearted regret of my own princess for the stern necessity

which demanded it.

I think that Phaidor regretted the thrill that the spectacle would

have afforded her rather than the fact that my decision left another

enemy alive to threaten us.

The man had now regained full possession of his faculties, and

was regarding us intently from where he lay bound upon the deck.

He was a handsome fellow, clean limbed and powerful, with an

intelligent face and features of such exquisite chiselling that

Adonis himself might have envied him.

The vessel, unguided, had been moving slowly across the valley;

but now I thought it time to take the helm and direct her course.

Only in a very general way could I guess the location of the Valley

Dor. That it was far south of the equator was evident from the

constellations, but I was not sufficiently a Martian astronomer

to come much closer than a rough guess without the splendid charts

and delicate instruments with which, as an officer in the Heliumite

Navy, I had formerly reckoned the positions of the vessels on which

I sailed.

That a northerly course would quickest lead me toward the more

settled portions of the planet immediately decided the direction

that I should steer. Beneath my hand the cruiser swung gracefully

about. Then the button which controlled the repulsive rays sent us

soaring far out into space. With speed lever pulled to the last

notch, we raced toward the north as we rose ever farther and farther

above that terrible valley of death.

As we passed at a dizzy height over the narrow domains of the therns

the flash of powder far below bore mute witness to the ferocity of

the battle that still raged along that cruel frontier. No sound

of conflict reached our ears, for in the rarefied atmosphere of our

great altitude no sound wave could penetrate; they were dissipated

in thin air far below us.

It became intensely cold. Breathing was difficult. The girl,

Phaidor, and the black pirate kept their eyes glued upon me. At

length the girl spoke.

"Unconsciousness comes quickly at this altitude," she said quietly.

"Unless you are inviting death for us all you had best drop, and

that quickly."

There was no fear in her voice. It was as one might say: "You had

better carry an umbrella. It is going to rain."

I dropped the vessel quickly to a lower level. Nor was I a moment

too soon. The girl had swooned.

The black, too, was unconscious, while I, myself, retained my senses,

I think, only by sheer will. The one on whom all responsibility

rests is apt to endure the most.

We were swinging along low above the foothills of the Otz. It

was comparatively warm and there was plenty of air for our starved

lungs, so I was not surprised to see the black open his eyes, and

a moment later the girl also.

"It was a close call," she said.

"It has taught me two things though," I replied.

"What?"

"That even Phaidor, daughter of the Master of Life and Death, is

mortal," I said smiling.

"There is immortality only in Issus," she replied. "And Issus is

for the race of therns alone. Thus am I immortal."

I caught a fleeting grin passing across the features of the black

as he heard her words. I did not then understand why he smiled.

Later I was to learn, and she, too, in a most horrible manner.

"If the other thing you have just learned," she continued, "has

led to as erroneous deductions as the first you are little richer

in knowledge than you were before."

"The other," I replied, "is that our dusky friend here does not hail

from the nearer moon--he was like to have died at a few thousand

feet above Barsoom. Had we continued the five thousand miles that

lie between Thuria and the planet he would have been but the frozen

memory of a man."

Phaidor looked at the black in evident astonishment.

"If you are not of Thuria, then where?" she asked.

He shrugged his shoulders and turned his eyes elsewhere, but did

not reply.

The girl stamped her little foot in a peremptory manner.

"The daughter of Matai Shang is not accustomed to having her queries

remain unanswered," she said.