About noon I passed low over a great dead city of ancient Mars, and as

I skimmed out across the plain beyond I came full upon several thousand

green warriors engaged in a terrific battle. Scarcely had I seen them

than a volley of shots was directed at me, and with the almost

unfailing accuracy of their aim my little craft was instantly a ruined

wreck, sinking erratically to the ground.

I fell almost directly in the center of the fierce combat, among

warriors who had not seen my approach so busily were they engaged in

life and death struggles. The men were fighting on foot with

long-swords, while an occasional shot from a sharpshooter on the

outskirts of the conflict would bring down a warrior who might for an

instant separate himself from the entangled mass.

As my machine sank among them I realized that it was fight or die, with

good chances of dying in any event, and so I struck the ground with

drawn long-sword ready to defend myself as I could.

I fell beside a huge monster who was engaged with three antagonists,

and as I glanced at his fierce face, filled with the light of battle, I

recognized Tars Tarkas the Thark. He did not see me, as I was a trifle

behind him, and just then the three warriors opposing him, and whom I

recognized as Warhoons, charged simultaneously. The mighty fellow made

quick work of one of them, but in stepping back for another thrust he

fell over a dead body behind him and was down and at the mercy of his

foes in an instant. Quick as lightning they were upon him, and Tars

Tarkas would have been gathered to his fathers in short order had I not

sprung before his prostrate form and engaged his adversaries. I had

accounted for one of them when the mighty Thark regained his feet and

quickly settled the other.

He gave me one look, and a slight smile touched his grim lip as,

touching my shoulder, he said, "I would scarcely recognize you, John Carter, but there is no other

mortal upon Barsoom who would have done what you have for me. I think

I have learned that there is such a thing as friendship, my friend."

He said no more, nor was there opportunity, for the Warhoons were

closing in about us, and together we fought, shoulder to shoulder,

during all that long, hot afternoon, until the tide of battle turned

and the remnant of the fierce Warhoon horde fell back upon their

thoats, and fled into the gathering darkness.

Ten thousand men had been engaged in that titanic struggle, and upon

the field of battle lay three thousand dead. Neither side asked or

gave quarter, nor did they attempt to take prisoners.




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