CHAPTER V.

THE FAIR RACE

Downward along a smooth, broad floor led the strange tunnel, for such

Carthoris was now convinced was the nature of the shaft he at first had

thought but a cave.

Before him he could hear the occasional low moans of the banth, and

presently from behind came a similar uncanny note. Another banth had

entered the passageway on _his_ trail!

His position was anything but pleasant. His eyes could not penetrate

the darkness even to the distinguishing of his hand before his face,

while the banths, he knew, could see quite well, though absence of

light were utter.

No other sounds came to his ears than the dismal, bloodthirsty moanings

of the beast ahead and the beast behind.

The tunnel had led straight, from where he had entered it beneath the

side of the rock furthest from the unscaleable cliffs, toward the

mighty barrier that had baffled him so long.

Now it was running almost level, and presently he noted a gradual

ascent.

The beast behind him was gaining upon him, crowding him perilously

close upon the heels of the beast in front. Presently he should have to

do battle with one, or both. More firmly he gripped his weapon.

Now he could hear the breathing of the banth at his heels. Not for much

longer could he delay the encounter.

Long since he had become assured that the tunnel led beneath the cliffs

to the opposite side of the barrier, and he had hoped that he might

reach the moonlit open before being compelled to grapple with either of

the monsters.

The sun had been setting as he entered the tunnel, and the way had been

sufficiently long to assure him that darkness now reigned upon the

world without. He glanced behind him. Blazing out of the darkness,

seemingly not ten paces behind, glared two flaming points of fire. As

the savage eyes met his, the beast emitted a frightful roar and then he

charged.

To face that savage mountain of onrushing ferocity, to stand unshaken

before the hideous fangs that he knew were bared in slavering

blood-thirstiness, though he could not see them, required nerves of

steel; but of such were the nerves of Carthoris of Helium.

He had the brute’s eyes to guide his point, and, as true as the sword

hand of his mighty sire, his guided the keen point to one of those

blazing orbs, even as he leaped lightly to one side.

With a hideous scream of pain and rage, the wounded banth hurtled,

clawing, past him. Then it turned to charge once more; but this time

Carthoris saw but a single gleaming point of fiery hate directed upon

him.

Again the needle point met its flashing target. Again the horrid cry of

the stricken beast reverberated through the rocky tunnel, shocking in

its torture-laden shrillness, deafening in its terrific volume.

But now, as it turned to charge again, the man had no guide whereby to

direct his point. He heard the scraping of the padded feet upon the

rocky floor. He knew the thing was charging down upon him once again,

but he could see nothing.

Yet, if he could not see his antagonist, neither could his antagonist

now see him.

Leaping, as he thought, to the exact centre of the tunnel, he held his

sword point ready on a line with the beast’s chest. It was all that he

could do, hoping that chance might send the point into the savage heart

as he went down beneath the great body.

So quickly was the thing over that Carthoris could scarce believe his

senses as the mighty body rushed madly past him. Either he had not

placed himself in the centre of the tunnel, or else the blinded banth

had erred in its calculations.

However, the huge body missed him by a foot, and the creature continued

on down the tunnel as though in pursuit of the prey that had eluded

him.

Carthoris, too, followed the same direction, nor was it long before his

heart was gladdened by the sight of the moonlit exit from the long,

dark passage.

Before him lay a deep hollow, entirely surrounded by gigantic cliffs.

The surface of the valley was dotted with enormous trees, a strange

sight so far from a Martian waterway. The ground itself was clothed in

brilliant scarlet sward, picked out with innumerable patches of

gorgeous wild flowers.

Beneath the glorious effulgence of the two moons the scene was one of

indescribable loveliness, tinged with the weirdness of strange

enchantment.

For only an instant, however, did his gaze rest upon the natural

beauties outspread before him. Almost immediately they were riveted

upon the figure of a great banth standing across the carcass of a

new-killed thoat.

The huge beast, his tawny mane bristling around his hideous head, kept

his eyes fixed upon another banth that charged erratically hither and

thither, with shrill screams of pain, and horrid roars of hate and

rage.

Carthoris quickly guessed that the second brute was the one he had

blinded during the fight in the tunnel, but it was the dead thoat that

centred his interest more than either of the savage carnivores.

The harness was still upon the body of the huge Martian mount, and

Carthoris could not doubt but that this was the very animal upon which

the green warrior had borne away Thuvia of Ptarth.

But where were the rider and his prisoner? The Prince of Helium

shuddered as he thought upon the probability of the fate that had

overtaken them.

Human flesh is the food most craved by the fierce Barsoomian lion,

whose great carcass and giant thews require enormous quantities of meat

to sustain them.

Two human bodies would have but whetted the creature’s appetite, and

that he had killed and eaten the green man and the red girl seemed only

too likely to Carthoris. He had left the carcass of the mighty thoat to

be devoured after having consumed the more tooth-some portion of his

banquet.

Now the sightless banth, in its savage, aimless charging and

counter-charging, had passed beyond the kill of its fellow, and there

the light breeze that was blowing wafted the scent of new blood to its

nostrils.

No longer were its movements erratic. With outstretched tail and

foaming jaws it charged straight as an arrow, for the body of the thoat

and the mighty creature of destruction that stood with forepaws upon

the slate-grey side, waiting to defend its meat.

When the charging banth was twenty paces from the dead thoat the killer

gave vent to its hideous challenge, and with a mighty spring leaped

forward to meet it.

The battle that ensued awed even the warlike Barsoomian. The mad

rending, the hideous and deafening roaring, the implacable savagery of

the blood-stained beasts held him in the paralysis of fascination, and

when it was over and the two creatures, their heads and shoulders torn

to ribbons, lay with their dead jaws still buried in each other’s

bodies, Carthoris tore himself from the spell only by an effort of the

will.

Hurrying to the side of the dead thoat, he searched for traces of the

girl he feared had shared the thoat’s fate, but nowhere could he

discover anything to confirm his fears.

With slightly lightened heart he started out to explore the valley, but

scarce a dozen steps had he taken when the glistening of a jewelled

bauble lying on the sward caught his eye.

As he picked it up his first glance showed him that it was a woman’s

hair ornament, and emblazoned upon it was the insignia of the royal

house of Ptarth.

But, sinister discovery, blood, still wet, splotched the magnificent

jewels of the setting.

Carthoris half choked as the dire possibilities which the thing

suggested presented themselves to his imagination. Yet he could not,

would not believe it.

It was impossible that that radiant creature could have met so hideous

an end. It was incredible that the glorious Thuvia should ever cease to

be.

Upon his already jewel-encrusted harness, to the strap that crossed his

great chest beneath which beat his loyal heart, Carthoris, Prince of

Helium, fastened the gleaming thing that Thuvia of Ptarth had worn, and

wearing, had made holy to the Heliumite.

Then he proceeded upon his way into the heart of the unknown valley.

For the most part the giant trees shut off his view to any but the most

limited distances. Occasionally he caught glimpses of the towering

hills that bounded the valley upon every side, and though they stood

out clear beneath the light of the two moons, he knew that they were

far off, and that the extent of the valley was immense.

For half the night he continued his search, until presently he was

brought to a sudden halt by the distant sound of squealing thoats.

Guided by the noise of these habitually angry beasts, he stole forward

through the trees until at last he came upon a level, treeless plain,

in the centre of which a mighty city reared its burnished domes and

vividly coloured towers.

About the walled city the red man saw a huge encampment of the green

warriors of the dead sea-bottoms, and as he let his eyes rove carefully

over the city he realized that here was no deserted metropolis of a

dead past.

But what city could it be? His studies had taught him that in this

little-explored portion of Barsoom the fierce tribe of Torquasian green

men ruled supreme, and that as yet no red man had succeeded in piercing

to the heart of their domain to return again to the world of

civilization.

The men of Torquas had perfected huge guns with which their uncanny

marksmanship had permitted them to repulse the few determined efforts

that near-by red nations had made to explore their country by means of

battle fleets of airships.

That he was within the boundary of Torquas, Carthoris was sure, but

that there existed there such a wondrous city he never had dreamed, nor

had the chronicles of the past even hinted at such a possibility, for

the Torquasians were known to live, as did the other green men of Mars,

within the deserted cities that dotted the dying planet, nor ever had

any green horde built so much as a single edifice, other than the

low-walled incubators where their young are hatched by the sun’s heat.

The encircling camp of green warriors lay about five hundred yards from

the city’s walls. Between it and the city was no semblance of

breastwork or other protection against rifle or cannon fire; yet

distinctly now in the light of the rising sun Carthoris could see many

figures moving along the summit of the high wall, and upon the roof

tops beyond.

That they were beings like himself he was sure, though they were at too

great distance from him for him to be positive that they were red men.

Almost immediately after sunrise the green warriors commenced firing

upon the little figures upon the wall. To Carthoris’ surprise the fire

was not returned, but presently the last of the city’s inhabitants had

sought shelter from the weird marksmanship of the green men, and no

further sign of life was visible beyond the wall.

Then Carthoris, keeping within the shelter of the trees that fringed

the plain, began circling the rear of the besiegers’ line, hoping

against hope that somewhere he would obtain sight of Thuvia of Ptarth,

for even now he could not believe that she was dead.

That he was not discovered was a miracle, for mounted warriors were

constantly riding back and forth from the camp into the forest; but the

long day wore on and still he continued his seemingly fruitless quest,

until, near sunset, he came opposite a mighty gate in the city’s

western wall.

Here seemed to be the principal force of the attacking horde. Here a

great platform had been erected whereon Carthoris could see squatting a

huge green warrior, surrounded by others of his kind.

This, then, must be the notorious Hortan Gur, Jeddak of Torquas, the

fierce old ogre of the south-western hemisphere, as only for a jeddak

are platforms raised in temporary camps or upon the march by the green

hordes of Barsoom.

As the Heliumite watched he saw another green warrior push his way

forward toward the rostrum. Beside him he dragged a captive, and as the

surrounding warriors parted to let the two pass, Carthoris caught a

fleeting glimpse of the prisoner.

His heart leaped in rejoicing. Thuvia of Ptarth still lived!

It was with difficulty that Carthoris restrained the impulse to rush

forward to the side of the Ptarthian princess; but in the end his

better judgment prevailed, for in the face of such odds he knew that he

should have been but throwing away, uselessly, any future opportunity

he might have to succour her.

He saw her dragged to the foot of the rostrum. He saw Hortan Gur

address her. He could not hear the creature’s words, nor Thuvia’s

reply; but it must have angered the green monster, for Carthoris saw

him leap toward the prisoner, striking her a cruel blow across the face

with his metal-banded arm.

Then the son of John Carter, Jeddak of Jeddaks, Warlord of Barsoom,

went mad. The old, blood-red haze through which his sire had glared at

countless foes, floated before his eyes.

His half-Earthly muscles, responding quickly to his will, sent him in

enormous leaps and bounds toward the green monster that had struck the

woman he loved.

The Torquasians were not looking in the direction of the forest. All

eyes had been upon the figures of the girl and their jeddak, and loud

was the hideous laughter that rang out in appreciation of the wit of

the green emperor’s reply to his prisoner’s appeal for liberty.

Carthoris had covered about half the distance between the forest and

the green warriors, when a new factor succeeded in still further

directing the attention of the latter from him.

Upon a high tower within the beleaguered city a man appeared. From his

upturned mouth there issued a series of frightful shrieks; uncanny

shrieks that swept, shrill and terrifying, across the city’s walls,

over the heads of the besiegers, and out across the forest to the

uttermost confines of the valley.

Once, twice, thrice the fearsome sound smote upon the ears of the

listening green men and then far, far off across the broad woods came

sharp and clear from the distance an answering shriek.

It was but the first. From every point rose similar savage cries, until

the world seemed to tremble to their reverberations.

The green warriors looked nervously this way and that. They knew not

fear, as Earth men may know it; but in the face of the unusual their

wonted self-assurance deserted them.

And then the great gate in the city wall opposite the platform of

Hortan Gur swung suddenly wide. From it issued as strange a sight as

Carthoris ever had witnessed, though at the moment he had time to cast

but a single fleeting glance at the tall bowmen emerging through the

portal behind their long, oval shields; to note their flowing auburn

hair; and to realize that the growling things at their side were fierce

Barsoomian lions.

Then he was in the midst of the astonished Torquasians. With drawn

long-sword he was among them, and to Thuvia of Ptarth, whose startled

eyes were the first to fall upon him, it seemed that she was looking

upon John Carter himself, so strangely similar to the fighting of the

father was that of the son.

Even to the famous fighting smile of the Virginian was the resemblance

true. And the sword arm! Ah, the subtleness of it, and the speed!

All about was turmoil and confusion. Green warriors were leaping to the

backs of their restive, squealing thoats. Calots were growling out

their savage gutturals, whining to be at the throats of the oncoming

foemen.

Thar Ban and another by the side of the rostrum had been the first to

note the coming of Carthoris, and it was with them he battled for

possession of the red girl, while the others hastened to meet the host

advancing from the beleaguered city.

Carthoris sought both to defend Thuvia of Ptarth and reach the side of

the hideous Hortan Gur that he might avenge the blow the creature had

struck the girl.

He succeeded in reaching the rostrum, over the dead bodies of two

warriors who had turned to join Thar Ban and his companion in repulsing

this adventurous red man, just as Hortan Gur was about to leap from it

to the back of his thoat.

The attention of the green warriors turned principally upon the bowmen

advancing upon them from the city, and upon the savage banths that

paced beside them—cruel beasts of war, infinitely more terrible than

their own savage calots.

As Carthoris leaped to the rostrum he drew Thuvia up beside him, and

then he turned upon the departing jeddak with an angry challenge and a

sword thrust.

As the Heliumite’s point pricked his green hide, Hortan Gur turned upon

his adversary with a snarl, but at the same instant two of his

chieftains called to him to hasten, for the charge of the fair-skinned

inhabitants of the city was developing into a more serious matter than

the Torquasians had anticipated.

Instead of remaining to battle with the red man, Hortan Gur promised

him his attention after he had disposed of the presumptuous citizens of

the walled city, and, leaping astride his thoat, galloped off to meet

the rapidly advancing bowmen.

The other warriors quickly followed their jeddak, leaving Thuvia and

Carthoris alone upon the platform.

Between them and the city raged a terrific battle. The fair-skinned

warriors, armed only with their long bows and a kind of short-handled

war-axe, were almost helpless beneath the savage mounted green men at

close quarters; but at a distance their sharp arrows did fully as much

execution as the radium projectiles of the green men.

But if the warriors themselves were outclassed, not so their savage

companions, the fierce banths. Scarce had the two lines come together

when hundreds of these appalling creatures had leaped among the

Torquasians, dragging warriors from their thoats—dragging down the huge

thoats themselves, and bringing consternation to all before them.

The numbers of the citizenry, too, was to their advantage, for it

seemed that scarce a warrior fell but his place was taken by a score

more, in such a constant stream did they pour from the city’s great

gate.

And so it came, what with the ferocity of the banths and the numbers of

the bowmen, that at last the Torquasians fell back, until presently the

platform upon which stood Carthoris and Thuvia lay directly in the

centre of the fight.

That neither was struck by a bullet or an arrow seemed a miracle to

both; but at last the tide had rolled completely past them, so that

they were alone between the fighters and the city, except for the dying

and the dead, and a score or so of growling banths, less well trained

than their fellows, who prowled among the corpses seeking meat.

To Carthoris the strangest part of the battle had been the terrific

toll taken by the bowmen with their relatively puny weapons. Nowhere

that he could see was there a single wounded green man, but the corpses

of their dead lay thick upon the field of battle.

Death seemed to follow instantly the slightest pinprick of a bowman’s

arrow, nor apparently did one ever miss its goal. There could be but

one explanation: the missiles were poison-tipped.

Presently the sounds of conflict died in the distant forest. Quiet

reigned, broken only by the growling of the devouring banths. Carthoris

turned toward Thuvia of Ptarth. As yet neither had spoken.

“Where are we, Thuvia?” he asked.

The girl looked at him questioningly. His very presence had seemed to

proclaim a guilty knowledge of her abduction. How else might he have

known the destination of the flier that brought her!

“Who should know better than the Prince of Helium?” she asked in

return. “Did he not come hither of his own free will?”

“From Aaanthor I came voluntarily upon the trail of the green man who

had stolen you, Thuvia,” he replied; “but from the time I left Helium

until I awoke above Aaanthor I thought myself bound for Ptarth.

“It had been intimated that I had guilty knowledge of your abduction,”

he explained simply, “and I was hastening to the jeddak, your father,

to convince him of the falsity of the charge, and to give my service to

your recovery. Before I left Helium some one tampered with my compass,

so that it bore me to Aaanthor instead of to Ptarth. That is all. You

believe me?”

“But the warriors who stole me from the garden!” she exclaimed. “After

we arrived at Aaanthor they wore the metal of the Prince of Helium.

When they took me they were trapped in Dusarian harness. There seemed

but a single explanation. Whoever dared the outrage wished to put the

onus upon another, should he be detected in the act; but once safely

away from Ptarth he felt safe in having his minions return to their own

harness.”

“You believe that I did this thing, Thuvia?” he asked.

“Ah, Carthoris,” she replied sadly, “I did not wish to believe it; but

when everything pointed to you—even then I would not believe it.”

“I did not do it, Thuvia,” he said. “But let me be entirely honest with

you. As much as I love your father, as much as I respect Kulan Tith, to

whom you are betrothed, as well as I know the frightful consequences

that must have followed such an act of mine, hurling into war, as it

would, three of the greatest nations of Barsoom—yet, notwithstanding

all this, I should not have hesitated to take you thus, Thuvia of

Ptarth, had you even hinted that it would not have displeased _you_.

“But you did nothing of the kind, and so I am here, not in my own

service, but in yours, and in the service of the man to whom you are

promised, to save you for him, if it lies within the power of man to do

so,” he concluded, almost bitterly.

Thuvia of Ptarth looked into his face for several moments. Her breast

was rising and falling as though to some resistless emotion. She half

took a step toward him. Her lips parted as though to speak—swiftly and

impetuously.

And then she conquered whatever had moved her.

“The future acts of the Prince of Helium,” she said coldly, “must

constitute the proof of his past honesty of purpose.”

Carthoris was hurt by the girl’s tone, as much as by the doubt as to

his integrity which her words implied.

He had half hoped that she might hint that his love would be

acceptable—certainly there was due him at least a little gratitude for

his recent acts in her behalf; but the best he received was cold

skepticism.

The Prince of Helium shrugged his broad shoulders. The girl noted it,

and the little smile that touched his lips, so that it became her turn

to be hurt.

Of course she had not meant to hurt him. He might have known that after

what he had said she could not do anything to encourage him! But he

need not have made his indifference quite so palpable. The men of

Helium were noted for their gallantry—not for boorishness. Possibly it

was the Earth blood that flowed in his veins.

How could she know that the shrug was but Carthoris’ way of attempting,

by physical effort, to cast blighting sorrow from his heart, or that

the smile upon his lips was the fighting smile of his father with which

the son gave outward evidence of the determination he had reached to

submerge his own great love in his efforts to save Thuvia of Ptarth for

another, because he believed that she loved this other!

He reverted to his original question.

“Where are we?” he asked. “I do not know.”

“Nor I,” replied the girl. “Those who stole me from Ptarth spoke among

themselves of Aaanthor, so that I thought it possible that the ancient

city to which they took me was that famous ruin; but where we may be

now I have no idea.”

“When the bowmen return we shall doubtless learn all that there is to

know,” said Carthoris. “Let us hope that they prove friendly. What race

may they be? Only in the most ancient of our legends and in the mural

paintings of the deserted cities of the dead sea-bottoms are depicted

such a race of auburn-haired, fair-skinned people. Can it be that we

have stumbled upon a surviving city of the past which all Barsoom

believes buried beneath the ages?”

Thuvia was looking toward the forest into which the green men and the

pursuing bowmen had disappeared. From a great distance came the hideous

cries of banths, and an occasional shot.

“It is strange that they do not return,” said the girl.

“One would expect to see the wounded limping or being carried back to

the city,” replied Carthoris, with a puzzled frown. “But how about the

wounded nearer the city? Have they carried them within?”

Both turned their eyes toward the field between them and the walled

city, where the fighting had been most furious.

There were the banths, still growling about their hideous feast.

Carthoris looked at Thuvia in astonishment. Then he pointed toward the

field.

“Where are they?” he whispered. “_What has become of their dead and

wounded?_”