A Princess of Mars

For an instant I thought Tars Tarkas would strike him dead, nor did the

aspect of Lorquas Ptomel augur any too favorably for the brute, but the

mood passed, their old selves reasserted their ascendency, and they

smiled. It was portentous however that they did not laugh aloud, for

the brute's act constituted a side-splitting witticism according to the

ethics which rule green Martian humor.

That I have taken moments to write down a part of what occurred as that

blow fell does not signify that I remained inactive for any such length

of time. I think I must have sensed something of what was coming, for

I realize now that I was crouched as for a spring as I saw the blow

aimed at her beautiful, upturned, pleading face, and ere the hand

descended I was halfway across the hall.

Scarcely had his hideous laugh rang out but once, when I was upon him.

The brute was twelve feet in height and armed to the teeth, but I

believe that I could have accounted for the whole roomful in the

terrific intensity of my rage. Springing upward, I struck him full in

the face as he turned at my warning cry and then as he drew his

short-sword I drew mine and sprang up again upon his breast, hooking

one leg over the butt of his pistol and grasping one of his huge tusks

with my left hand while I delivered blow after blow upon his enormous

chest.

He could not use his short-sword to advantage because I was too close

to him, nor could he draw his pistol, which he attempted to do in

direct opposition to Martian custom which says that you may not fight a

fellow warrior in private combat with any other than the weapon with

which you are attacked. In fact he could do nothing but make a wild

and futile attempt to dislodge me. With all his immense bulk he was

little if any stronger than I, and it was but the matter of a moment or

two before he sank, bleeding and lifeless, to the floor.

Dejah Thoris had raised herself upon one elbow and was watching the

battle with wide, staring eyes. When I had regained my feet I raised

her in my arms and bore her to one of the benches at the side of the

room.

Again no Martian interfered with me, and tearing a piece of silk from

my cape I endeavored to staunch the flow of blood from her nostrils. I

was soon successful as her injuries amounted to little more than an

ordinary nosebleed, and when she could speak she placed her hand upon

my arm and looking up into my eyes, said: "Why did you do it? You who refused me even friendly recognition in

the first hour of my peril! And now you risk your life and kill one of

your companions for my sake. I cannot understand. What strange manner

of man are you, that you consort with the green men, though your form

is that of my race, while your color is little darker than that of the

white ape? Tell me, are you human, or are you more than human?"