A Princess of Mars

After a breakfast, which was an exact replica of the meal of the

preceding day and an index of practically every meal which followed

while I was with the green men of Mars, Sola escorted me to the plaza,

where I found the entire community engaged in watching or helping at

the harnessing of huge mastodonian animals to great three-wheeled

chariots. There were about two hundred and fifty of these vehicles,

each drawn by a single animal, any one of which, from their appearance,

might easily have drawn the entire wagon train when fully loaded.

The chariots themselves were large, commodious, and gorgeously

decorated. In each was seated a female Martian loaded with ornaments

of metal, with jewels and silks and furs, and upon the back of each of

the beasts which drew the chariots was perched a young Martian driver.

Like the animals upon which the warriors were mounted, the heavier

draft animals wore neither bit nor bridle, but were guided entirely by

telepathic means.

This power is wonderfully developed in all Martians, and accounts

largely for the simplicity of their language and the relatively few

spoken words exchanged even in long conversations. It is the universal

language of Mars, through the medium of which the higher and lower

animals of this world of paradoxes are able to communicate to a greater

or less extent, depending upon the intellectual sphere of the species

and the development of the individual.

As the cavalcade took up the line of march in single file, Sola dragged

me into an empty chariot and we proceeded with the procession toward

the point by which I had entered the city the day before. At the head

of the caravan rode some two hundred warriors, five abreast, and a like

number brought up the rear, while twenty-five or thirty outriders

flanked us on either side.

Every one but myself--men, women, and children--were heavily armed, and

at the tail of each chariot trotted a Martian hound, my own beast

following closely behind ours; in fact, the faithful creature never

left me voluntarily during the entire ten years I spent on Mars. Our

way led out across the little valley before the city, through the

hills, and down into the dead sea bottom which I had traversed on my

journey from the incubator to the plaza. The incubator, as it proved,

was the terminal point of our journey this day, and, as the entire

cavalcade broke into a mad gallop as soon as we reached the level

expanse of sea bottom, we were soon within sight of our goal.

On reaching it the chariots were parked with military precision on the

four sides of the enclosure, and half a score of warriors, headed by

the enormous chieftain, and including Tars Tarkas and several other

lesser chiefs, dismounted and advanced toward it. I could see Tars

Tarkas explaining something to the principal chieftain, whose name, by

the way, was, as nearly as I can translate it into English, Lorquas

Ptomel, Jed; jed being his title.