Then I sprang once more to the top of the

partition and dropped into my own cell beside the astonished Xodar.

"Do you see now how we will escape?" I asked him in a whisper.

"I see how you may," he replied, "but I am no wiser than before

as to how I am to pass these walls. Certain it is that I cannot

bounce over them as you do."

We heard the guard moving about from cell to cell, and finally, his

rounds completed, he again entered ours. When his eyes fell upon

me they fairly bulged from his head.

"By the shell of my first ancestor!" he roared. "Where have you

been?"

"I have been in prison since you put me here yesterday," I answered.

"I was in this room when you entered. You had better look to your

eyesight."

He glared at me in mingled rage and relief.

"Come," he said. "Issus commands your presence."

He conducted me outside the prison, leaving Xodar behind. There

we found several other guards, and with them the red Martian youth

who occupied another cell upon Shador.

The journey I had taken to the Temple of Issus on the preceding day

was repeated. The guards kept the red boy and myself separated,

so that we had no opportunity to continue the conversation that

had been interrupted the previous night.

The youth's face had haunted me. Where had I seen him before.

There was something strangely familiar in every line of him; in

his carriage, his manner of speaking, his gestures. I could have

sworn that I knew him, and yet I knew too that I had never seen

him before.

When we reached the gardens of Issus we were led away from the temple

instead of toward it. The way wound through enchanted parks to a

mighty wall that towered a hundred feet in air.

Massive gates gave egress upon a small plain, surrounded by the same

gorgeous forests that I had seen at the foot of the Golden Cliffs.

Crowds of blacks were strolling in the same direction that our

guards were leading us, and with them mingled my old friends the

plant men and great white apes.

The brutal beasts moved among the crowd as pet dogs might. If

they were in the way the blacks pushed them roughly to one side, or

whacked them with the flat of a sword, and the animals slunk away

as in great fear.

Presently we came upon our destination, a great amphitheatre situated

at the further edge of the plain, and about half a mile beyond the

garden walls.

Through a massive arched gateway the blacks poured in to take their

seats, while our guards led us to a smaller entrance near one end

of the structure.

Through this we passed into an enclosure beneath the seats, where

we found a number of other prisoners herded together under guard.

Some of them were in irons, but for the most part they seemed

sufficiently awed by the presence of their guards to preclude any

possibility of attempted escape.

During the trip from Shador I had had no opportunity to talk with

my fellow-prisoner, but now that we were safely within the barred

paddock our guards abated their watchfulness, with the result that

I found myself able to approach the red Martian youth for whom I

felt such a strange attraction.

"What is the object of this assembly?" I asked him. "Are we to

fight for the edification of the First Born, or is it something

worse than that?"

"It is a part of the monthly rites of Issus," he replied, "in

which black men wash the sins from their souls in the blood of men

from the outer world. If, perchance, the black is killed, it is

evidence of his disloyalty to Issus--the unpardonable sin. If he

lives through the contest he is held acquitted of the charge that

forced the sentence of the rites, as it is called, upon him.

"The forms of combat vary. A number of us may be pitted together

against an equal number, or twice the number of blacks; or singly

we may be sent forth to face wild beasts, or some famous black

warrior."

"And if we are victorious," I asked, "what then--freedom?"

He laughed.

"Freedom, forsooth. The only freedom for us death. None who

enters the domains of the First Born ever leave. If we prove able

fighters we are permitted to fight often. If we are not mighty

fighters--" He shrugged his shoulders. "Sooner or later we die

in the arena."

"And you have fought often?" I asked.

"Very often," he replied. "It is my only pleasure. Some hundred

black devils have I accounted for during nearly a year of the rites

of Issus. My mother would be very proud could she only know how

well I have maintained the traditions of my father's prowess."

"Your father must have been a mighty warrior!" I said. "I have

known most of the warriors of Barsoom in my time; doubtless I knew

him. Who was he?"

"My father was--"

"Come, calots!" cried the rough voice of a guard. "To the slaughter

with you," and roughly we were hustled to the steep incline that

led to the chambers far below which let out upon the arena.

The amphitheatre, like all I had ever seen upon Barsoom, was built

in a large excavation. Only the highest seats, which formed the

low wall surrounding the pit, were above the level of the ground.

The arena itself was far below the surface.

Just beneath the lowest tier of seats was a series of barred cages

on a level with the surface of the arena. Into these we were

herded. But, unfortunately, my youthful friend was not of those

who occupied a cage with me.

Directly opposite my cage was the throne of Issus.