A Princess of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs Read Free Book Online Page B

herself that I had come off unscathed she
smiled quietly, and, taking my hand, started toward the door of
the chamber.
    Tars Tarkas and the other warriors had entered and were standing
over the now rapidly reviving brute which had saved my life, and
whose life I, in turn, had rescued. They seemed to be deep in
argument, and finally one of them addressed me, but remembering
my ignorance of his language turned back to Tars Tarkas, who, with
a word and gesture, gave some command to the fellow and turned to
follow us from the room.
    There seemed something menacing in their attitude toward my beast,
and I hesitated to leave until I had learned the outcome. It was
well I did so, for the warrior drew an evil looking pistol from its
holster and was on the point of putting an end to the creature when
I sprang forward and struck up his arm. The bullet striking the
wooden casing of the window exploded, blowing a hole completely
through the wood and masonry.
    I then knelt down beside the fearsome-looking thing, and raising it
to its feet motioned for it to follow me. The looks of surprise
which my actions elicited from the Martians were ludicrous; they
could not understand, except in a feeble and childish way, such
attributes as gratitude and compassion. The warrior whose gun I
had struck up looked enquiringly at Tars Tarkas, but the latter
signed that I be left to my own devices, and so we returned to
the plaza with my great beast following close at heel, and Sola
grasping me tightly by the arm.
    I had at least two friends on Mars; a young woman who watched over
me with motherly solicitude, and a dumb brute which, as I later came
to know, held in its poor ugly carcass more love, more loyalty, more
gratitude than could have been found in the entire five million
green Martians who rove the deserted cities and dead sea bottoms
of Mars.

Chapter VII - Child-Raising on 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