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A Princess of Mars

Page 45

"Dejah Thoris, daughter of Mors Kajak of Helium."

"And the nature of your expedition?" he continued.

"It was a purely scientific research party sent out by my father's

father, the Jeddak of Helium, to rechart the air currents, and to take

atmospheric density tests," replied the fair prisoner, in a low,

well-modulated voice.

"We were unprepared for battle," she continued, "as we were on a

peaceful mission, as our banners and the colors of our craft denoted.

The work we were doing was as much in your interests as in ours, for

you know full well that were it not for our labors and the fruits of

our scientific operations there would not be enough air or water on

Mars to support a single human life. For ages we have maintained the

air and water supply at practically the same point without an

appreciable loss, and we have done this in the face of the brutal and

ignorant interference of your green men.

"Why, oh, why will you not learn to live in amity with your fellows,

must you ever go on down the ages to your final extinction but little

above the plane of the dumb brutes that serve you! A people without

written language, without art, without homes, without love; the victim

of eons of the horrible community idea. Owning everything in common,

even to your women and children, has resulted in your owning nothing in

common. You hate each other as you hate all else except yourselves.

Come back to the ways of our common ancestors, come back to the light

of kindliness and fellowship. The way is open to you, you will find

the hands of the red men stretched out to aid you. Together we may do

still more to regenerate our dying planet. The granddaughter of the

greatest and mightiest of the red jeddaks has asked you. Will you

come?"

Lorquas Ptomel and the warriors sat looking silently and intently at

the young woman for several moments after she had ceased speaking.

What was passing in their minds no man may know, but that they were

moved I truly believe, and if one man high among them had been strong

enough to rise above custom, that moment would have marked a new and

mighty era for Mars.

I saw Tars Tarkas rise to speak, and on his face was such an expression

as I had never seen upon the countenance of a green Martian warrior.

It bespoke an inward and mighty battle with self, with heredity, with

age-old custom, and as he opened his mouth to speak, a look almost of

benignity, of kindliness, momentarily lighted up his fierce and

terrible countenance.

What words of moment were to have fallen from his lips were never

spoken, as just then a young warrior, evidently sensing the trend of

thought among the older men, leaped down from the steps of the rostrum,

and striking the frail captive a powerful blow across the face, which

felled her to the floor, placed his foot upon her prostrate form and

turning toward the assembled council broke into peals of horrid,

mirthless laughter.

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