A Princess of Mars

Every red Martian is taught during earliest childhood the principles of

the manufacture of atmosphere, but only two at one time ever hold the

secret of ingress to the great building, which, built as it is with

walls a hundred and fifty feet thick, is absolutely unassailable, even

the roof being guarded from assault by air craft by a glass covering

five feet thick.

The only fear they entertain of attack is from the green Martians or

some demented red man, as all Barsoomians realize that the very

existence of every form of life of Mars is dependent upon the

uninterrupted working of this plant.

One curious fact I discovered as I watched his thoughts was that the

outer doors are manipulated by telepathic means. The locks are so

finely adjusted that the doors are released by the action of a certain

combination of thought waves. To experiment with my new-found toy I

thought to surprise him into revealing this combination and so I asked

him in a casual manner how he had managed to unlock the massive doors

for me from the inner chambers of the building. As quick as a flash

there leaped to his mind nine Martian sounds, but as quickly faded as

he answered that this was a secret he must not divulge.

From then on his manner toward me changed as though he feared that he

had been surprised into divulging his great secret, and I read

suspicion and fear in his looks and thoughts, though his words were

still fair.

Before I retired for the night he promised to give me a letter to a

nearby agricultural officer who would help me on my way to Zodanga,

which he said, was the nearest Martian city.

"But be sure that you do not let them know you are bound for Helium as

they are at war with that country. My assistant and I are of no

country, we belong to all Barsoom and this talisman which we wear

protects us in all lands, even among the green men--though we do not

trust ourselves to their hands if we can avoid it," he added.

"And so good-night, my friend," he continued, "may you have a long and

restful sleep--yes, a long sleep."

And though he smiled pleasantly I saw in his thoughts the wish that he

had never admitted me, and then a picture of him standing over me in

the night, and the swift thrust of a long dagger and the half formed

words, "I am sorry, but it is for the best good of Barsoom."

As he closed the door of my chamber behind him his thoughts were cut

off from me as was the sight of him, which seemed strange to me in my

little knowledge of thought transference.

What was I to do? How could I escape through these mighty walls?

Easily could I kill him now that I was warned, but once he was dead I

could no more escape, and with the stopping of the machinery of the

great plant I should die with all the other inhabitants of the

planet--all, even Dejah Thoris were she not already dead. For the

others I did not give the snap of my finger, but the thought of Dejah

Thoris drove from my mind all desire to kill my mistaken host.