His small, lidless eyes bulged. He opened his crooked mouth several times to speak. Now his twisted fingers worked spasmodically.
"Draw your sword, Pew Mogel!" spoke the earthman so low that Pew Mogel could hardly bear the words.
The synthetic man made no move to obey.
"You're dead!" he finally croaked. It was like the man were trying to convince himself that what he saw confronting him with naked sword was only an ill-begotten hallucination. So hard, in fact, did Pew Mogel continue to stare that his left eye behaved as Carter had seen it do once before in Korvas when the creature was excited.
It popped out of its socket and hung down on his cheek.
"Quickly, Pew Mogel, draw your weapon — I have no time to waste!"
Carter could feel the giant below him growing restless, shifting uneasily on his enormous feet. Apparently he did not yet suspect the change of masters in the howdah strapped to his helmet; yet he had jumped perceptibly when Carter's craft had torn into his master's sanctuary.
Carter reached down and picked up the microphone on the floor.
"Raise your arm," he shouted into the mouthpiece.
There was a pause; then the giant raised his right arm high over his head.
"Lower arm," Carter commanded again. The giant obeyed.
Twice more, Carter gave the same command and the giant obeyed each time. The earthman half smiled. He knew Kantos Kan had seen the signal and would follow the orders he had given him earlier.
Now Pew Mogel's hand suddenly shot down to his side. It started back up with a radium gun.
There was a blinding flash as he pulled the trigger; then the gun flew miraculously from his hand.
Carter had leaped to one side. His sword had crashed against the weapon knocking it from Pew Mogel's grasp.
Now the man was forced to draw his sword.
There, on top of the giant's head, fighting furiously with a synthetic man of Mars, John Carter found himself in one of the weirdest predicaments of his adventurous life.
Pew Mogel was no mean swordsman. In fact, so furious was his first attack that he had the earthman backing around the room hard-pressed to parry the swift torrent of blows that were aimed indescriminately at every inch of his body from head to toe.
It was a ghastly sensation, fighting with a man whose eye hung down the side of his face. Pew Mogel had forgotten that it had popped out. The synthetic man could see equally well with either eye.
Now Pew Mogel had worked the earthman over to the window. just for an instant he glanced out.
An exclamation of surprise escaped his lips.
XIII. Panic
John Carter's eyes followed those of Pew Mogel. What he saw made him smile, renewed hope surging over him.
"Look, Pew Mogel!" he cried. "Your flying army is disbanding!"
The thousands of malagors that had littered the sky with their hairy riders were croaking hoarsely as they scattered in all directions. The apes astride their backs were unable to control their wild fright. The birds were pitching off their riders in wholesale lots, as their great wings flapped furiously to escape that which had suddenly appeared in the sky among them.
The cause of their wild flight was immediately apparent.
The air was filled with parachutes! —and dangling from each falling parachute was a three-legged Martian rat — every Martian bird's hereditary foe!
In the quick glance that he took, Carter could see the creatures tumbling out of the troop ships into which he had loaded them during his absence of the last twenty-four hours.
His orders were being followed implicitly.
The rats would soon be landing among Pew Mogel's entrenched troops.
Now, however, John Carter's attention returned to his own immediate peril.
Pew Mogel swung viciously at the earthman. The blade nicked his shoulder, the blood flowed down his bronzed arm.
Carter stole another glance down. Those rats would need support when they landed in the trenches.
Good! Tars Tarkas's green warriors were again racing out of the hills, unhindered now by scathing fire from an enemy above.
True, the rats when they landed would attack anything in their path; but the green Tharks were mounted on fleet thoats — the apes had no mounts. No malagor would stay within sight of its most hated enemy.
Pew Mogel was backing up now once more near the window. Out of the corner of his eye, Carter caught sight of Kantos Kan's air fleet zooming down toward Pew Mogel's ape legions far below.
Pew Mogel suddenly reached down with his free hand.
His fingers clutched the microphone that Carter had dropped when Pew Mogel had first rushed at him.
Now the creature held it to his lips and before the earthman could prevent he shouted into it.
"Joog!" he cried. "Kill! Kill! Kill!"
The next second, John Carter's blade had severed Pew Mogel's head from his shoulders.
The earthman dived for the microphone as it fell from the creature's hands; but he was met by Pew Mogel's headless body as it lunged blindly around the room still wielding its gleaming weapon.
Pew Mogel's head rolled about the floor, shrieking wildly as Joog charged forward to obey his master's last command to kill!
Joog's head jerked back and forth with each enormous stride. John Carter was hurled roughly about the narrow compartment with each step.
Pew Mogel's headless body floundered across the floor, still striking out madly with the sword in its hand.
"You can't kill me. You can't kill me," shrieked Pew Mogel's head, as it bounced about. "I am Ras Thavas' synthetic man. I never die. I never die!"
The narrow entrance door to the howdah had flopped open as some flying object hit against its bolt.
Pew Mogel's body walked vacantly through the opening and went hurtling down to the ground far below.
Pew Mogel's head saw and shrieked in dismay; then Carter managed to grab it by the ear and hurl the head out after the body.
He could hear the thing shrieking, all the way down; then its cries ceased suddenly.
Joog was now fighting furiously with the weapon he had just uprooted.
"I kill! I kill!" he bellowed as he smacked the huge club against the Helium planes as they drove down over the trenches.
Although the howdah was rocking violently, Carter clung to the window. He could see the rats landing now by the scores, hurling themselves viciously at the apes in the trenches.
And Tars Tarkas' green warriors were there now, also. They were fighting gloriously beside their great, four-armed leader.
But Joog's mighty club was mowing down a hundred fighters at a time as he swept it close above the ground.
Joog had to be stopped somehow!
John Carter dove for the microphone that was sliding around the floor. He missed it, dove again. This time his fingers held it.
"Joog — stop! Stop!" Carter shouted into the microphone. Panting and growling, the great creature ceased his ruthless slaughter. He stood hunched over, the sullen, glaring hatred slowly dying away in his eyes, as the battle continued to rage at his feet.
The apes were now completely disbanded. They broke over the trenches and ran toward the mountains, pursued by the vicious, snarling rats and the green warriors of Tars Tarkas.
John Carter could see Kantos Kan's flagship hovering near Joog's head.
Fearing that Joog might aim an irritated blow at the craft with its precious cargo, the earthman signalled the ship to remain aloof.
Then his command once again rang into the microphone.
Joog lie down. Lie down!"
Like some tired beast of prey, Joog settled down on the ground amid the bodies of those he had killed.
John Carter leaped out of the howdah onto the ground. He still retained hold of the microphone that was tuned to the shortwave receiving set in Joog's ear.
Joog shouted Carter again. "Go to Korvas. Go to Korvas."
The monster glared at the earthman, not ten feet fro
m his face, and snarled.
XIV. Adventure's End
Once again the Earthman repeated his command to Joog the giant. Now the snarl faded from his lips and from the brute's chest came a sound not unlike a sigh as he rose to his feet once again.
Turning slowly, Joog ambled off across the plain toward Korvas.
It was not until ten minutes later after the Heliumite soldiers had stormed from their city and surrounded the earthman and their princess that John Carter, holding Dejah Thoris tightly in his arms, saw Joog's head disappear over the mountains in the distance.
"Why did you let him go, John Carter?" asked Tars Tarkas, as he wiped the blood from his blade on the hide of his sweating thoat.
"Yes, why," repeated Kantos Kan, "when you had him in your power?"
John Carter turned and surveyed the battlefield.
"All the death and destruction that has been caused here today was due not to Joog but to Pew Mogel," replied John Carter.
"Joog is harmless, now that his evil master is dead. Why add his death to all those others, even if we could have killed him — which I doubt?"
Kantos Kan was watching the rats disappear into the far mountains in pursuit of the great, lumbering apes.
"Tell me, John Carter," finally he said, a queer expression on his face, "how did you manage to capture those vicious rats, load them into those troop ships and even strap parachutes on them?"
John Carter smiled. "It was really simple, he said. "I had noticed in Korvas, when I was a prisoner in their underground city, that there was only one means of entrance to the cavern in which the rats live — a single tunnel that continued back for some distance before it branched, although there were openings in the ceiling far above; but they were out of reach.
I led my men down into that tunnel and we built a huge smoke fire with debris from the ground above. The natural draft carried the smoke into the cavern.
"The place became so filled with smoke that the rats passed out by the scores from lack of oxygen, for they couldn't get by the fire in the tunnel — their only means of escape. Later, we simply went in and dragged out as many as we needed to load into our troop ships."
"But the parachutes!" exclaimed Kantos Kan. "How did you manage to get those on their backs or keep them from tearing them off when the creatures finally became conscious?"
"They did not regain consciousness until the last minute," replied the earthman. "We kept the inside cabin of each troop ship filled with enough smoke to keep the rats unconscious all the way to Helium. We had plenty of time to attach the parachutes to their backs. The rats came to in midair after my men shoved them out of the ships."
John Carter nodded toward the disappearing creatures in the mountains. "They were very much alive and fighting mad when they hit the ground, as you saw," added the earthman. "They simply stepped out of their parachute harness when they landed, and leaped for anyone in sight.
"As for the malagors," he concluded, "they are birds — and birds on both earth and Mars have no love for snakes or rats. I knew those malagors would prefer other surroundings when they saw and smelled their natural enemies in the air around them!"
Dejah Thoris looked up at her chieftain and smiled.
"Was there ever such a man before?" she asked. "Could it be that all earthmen are like you?"
That night all Helium celebrated its victory. The streets of the city surged with laughing people, The mighty, green warriors of Thark mingled in common brotherhood with the fighting legions of Helium.
In the royal palace was staged a great feast in honor of John Carter's service to Helium.
Old Tardos Mors, the Jeddak, was so choked with feeling at the miraculous delivery of his city from the hands of their enemy and the safe return of his granddaughter that he was unable to speak for some time when he arose at the dining table to offer the kingdom's thanks to the earthman.
But when he finally spoke, his words were couched with the simple dignity of a great ruler. The intense gratitude of these people deeply touched the earthman's heart.
Later that night, John Carter and Dejah Thoris stood alone on a balcony overlooking the royal gardens.
The moons of Mars circled majestically across the heavens, causing the shadows of the distant mountains to roll and tumble in an ever-changing fantasy over the plain and the forest.
Even the shadows of the two people on the royal balcony slowly merged into one.
Skeleton Men of Jupiter
Foreword
Particularly disliking forewords, I seldom read them; yet it seems that I scarcely ever write a story that I do not inflict a foreword on my long-suffering readers. Occasionally I also have to inject a little weather and scenery in my deathless classics, two further examples of literary racketeering that I especially deplore in the writings of others. Yet there is something to be said in extenuation of weather and scenery, which, together with adjectives, do much to lighten the burdens of authors and run up their word count.
Still, there is little excuse for forewords; and if this were my story there would be none. However, it is not my story. It is John Carter's story. I am merely his amanuensus.
On guard! John Carter takes his sword in hand.
EDGAR RICE BURROUGHS
I. Betrayed
I am no scientist. I am a fighting man. My most beloved weapon is the sword, and during a long life I have seen no reason to alter my theories as to its proper application to the many problems with which I have been faced. This is not true of the scientists. They are constantly abandoning one theory for another one. The law of gravitation is about the only theory that has held throughout my lifetime — and if the earth should suddenly start rotating seventeen times faster than it now does, even the law of gravitation would fail us and we would all go sailing off into space.
Theories come and theories go — scientific theories. I recall that there was once a theory that Time and Space moved forward constantly in a straight line. There was also a theory that neither Time nor Space existed — it was all in your mind's eye. Then came the theory that Time and Space curved in upon themselves. Tomorrow, some scientist may show us reams and reams of paper and hundreds of square feet of blackboard covered with equations, formulae, signs, symbols, and diagrams to prove that Time and Space curve out away from themselves. Then our theoretic universe will come tumbling about our ears, and we shall have to start all over again from scratch.
Like many fighting men, I am inclined to be credulous concerning matters outside my vocation; or at least I used to be. I believed whatever the scientists said. Long ago, I believed with Flammarion that Mars was habitable and inhabited; then a newer and more reputable school of scientists convinced me that it was neither. Without losing hope, I was yet forced to believe them until I came to Mars to live. They still insist that Mars is neither habitable nor inhabited, but I live here. Fact and theory seem to be opposed. Unquestionably, the scientists appear to be correct in theory. Equally incontrovertible is it that I am correct in fact.
In the adventure that I am about to narrate, fact and theory will again cross swords. I hate to do this to my long-suffering scientific friends; but if they would only consult me first rather than dogmatically postulating theories which do not meet with popular acclaim, they would save themselves much embarrassment.
* * * * *
Dejah Thoris, my incomparable princess, and I were sitting upon a carved ersite bench in one of the gardens of our palace in Lesser Helium when an officer in the leather of Tardos Mors, Jeddak of Helium, Approached and saluted.
'From Tardos Mors to John Carter, kaor!' he said. 'The jeddak requests your immediate presence in the Hall of Jeddaks in the imperial palace in Greater Helium.'
'At once,' I replied.
'May I fly you over, sir?' he asked. 'I came in a two seater.'
'Thanks,' I replied. 'I'll join you at the hangar in a moment.' He saluted and left us.
'Who was he?' asked Dejah Thoris. 'I don't recall ever having seen him befor
e.'
'Probably one of the new officers from Zor, whom Tardos Mors has commissioned in the Jeddak's Guard. It was a gesture of his, made to assure Zor that he has the utmost confidence in the loyalty of that city and as a measure for healing old wounds.'
Zor, which lies about three hundred eighty miles southeast of Helium, is one of the more recent conquests of Helium and had given us a great deal of trouble in the past because of treasonable acts instigated by a branch of its royal family led by one Multis Par, a prince. About five years before the events I am about to narrate occurred, this Multis Par had disappeared; and since then Zor had given us no trouble. No one knew what had become of the man, and it was supposed that he had either taken the last, long voyage down the river Iss to the Lost Sea of Korus in the Valley Dor or had been captured and murdered by members of some horde of savage Green men. Nor did anyone appear to care — just so he never returned to Zor, where he was thoroughly hated for his arrogance and cruelty.
'I hope that my revered grandfather does not keep you long,' said Dejah Thoris. 'We are having a few guests for dinner tonight, and I do not wish you to be late.'
'A few!' I said. 'How many? two hundred or three hundred?'
'Don't be impossible,' she said, laughing. 'Really, only a few.'
'A thousand, if it pleases you, my dear,' I assured her as I kissed her. 'And now, good-by! I'll doubtless be back within the hour.' That was a year ago!
As I ran up the ramp toward the hangar on the palace roof, I had, for some then unaccountable reason, a sense of impending ill; but I attributed it to the fact that my tete-a-tete with my princess had been so quickly interrupted.
The thin air of dying Mars renders the transition from day to night startlingly sudden to an earthman. Twilight is of short duration owing to the negligible refraction of the sun's rays. When I had left Dejah Thoris, the sun, though low, was still shining; the garden was in shadow, but it was still daylight. When I stepped from the head of the ramp to that part of the roof of the palace where the hangar was located which housed the private fliers of the family, dim twilight partially obscured my vision. It would soon be dark. I wondered why the hangar guard had not switched on the lights.
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