A Princess of Mars

"It is a strange tale," I replied, "too long to attempt to tell you

now, and one which I so much doubt the credibility of myself that I

fear to hope that others will believe it. Suffice it, for the present,

that I am your friend, and, so far as our captors will permit, your

protector and your servant."

"Then you too are a prisoner? But why, then, those arms and the

regalia of a Tharkian chieftain? What is your name? Where your

country?"

"Yes, Dejah Thoris, I too am a prisoner; my name is John Carter, and I

claim Virginia, one of the United States of America, Earth, as my home;

but why I am permitted to wear arms I do not know, nor was I aware that

my regalia was that of a chieftain."

We were interrupted at this juncture by the approach of one of the

warriors, bearing arms, accouterments and ornaments, and in a flash one

of her questions was answered and a puzzle cleared up for me. I saw

that the body of my dead antagonist had been stripped, and I read in

the menacing yet respectful attitude of the warrior who had brought me

these trophies of the kill the same demeanor as that evinced by the

other who had brought me my original equipment, and now for the first

time I realized that my blow, on the occasion of my first battle in the

audience chamber had resulted in the death of my adversary.

The reason for the whole attitude displayed toward me was now apparent;

I had won my spurs, so to speak, and in the crude justice, which always

marks Martian dealings, and which, among other things, has caused me to

call her the planet of paradoxes, I was accorded the honors due a

conqueror; the trappings and the position of the man I killed. In

truth, I was a Martian chieftain, and this I learned later was the

cause of my great freedom and my toleration in the audience chamber.

As I had turned to receive the dead warrior's chattels I had noticed

that Tars Tarkas and several others had pushed forward toward us, and

the eyes of the former rested upon me in a most quizzical manner.

Finally he addressed me: "You speak the tongue of Barsoom quite readily for one who was deaf and

dumb to us a few short days ago. Where did you learn it, John Carter?"

"You, yourself, are responsible, Tars Tarkas," I replied, "in that you

furnished me with an instructress of remarkable ability; I have to

thank Sola for my learning."

"She has done well," he answered, "but your education in other respects

needs considerable polish. Do you know what your unprecedented

temerity would have cost you had you failed to kill either of the two

chieftains whose metal you now wear?"