even then
the play is fair and they have their chance for freedom. Volunteers may
play, but the moves are not necessarily to the death--a wound, and even
sometimes points in swordplay, deciding the issue. There they look upon
jetan as a martial sport--here it is but butchery. And U-Thor is
opposed to the ancient slave raids and to the policy that keeps Manator
forever isolated from the other nations of Barsoom; but U-Thor is not
jeddak and so there is no change."

The two girls watched the column moving up the broad avenue from The
Gate of Enemies toward the palace of O-Tar. A gorgeous, barbaric
procession of painted warriors in jewel-studded harness and waving
feathers; vicious, squealing thoats caparisoned in rich trappings; far
above their heads the long lances of their riders bore fluttering
pennons; foot-soldiers swinging easily along the stone pavement, their
sandals of zitidar hide giving forth no sound; and at the rear of each
utan a train of painted chariots, drawn by mammoth zitidars, carrying
the equipment of the company to which they were attached. Utan after
utan entered through the great gate, and even when the head of the
column reached the palace of O-Tar they were not all within the city.

"I have been here many years," said the girl, Lan-O; "but never have I
seen even The Great Jed bring so many fighting men into the city of
Manator."

Through half-closed eyes Tara of Helium watched the warriors marching
up the broad avenue, trying to imagine them the fighting men of her
beloved Helium coming to the rescue of their princess. That splendid
figure upon the great thoat might be John Carter, himself, Warlord of
Barsoom, and behind him utan after utan of the veterans of the empire,
and then the girl opened her eyes again and saw the host of painted,
befeathered barbarians, and sighed. But yet she watched, fascinated by
the martial scene, and now she noted again the groups of silent figures
upon the balconies. No waving silks; no cries of welcome; no showers of
flowers and jewels such as would have marked the entry of such a
splendid, friendly pageant into the twin cities of her birth.

"The people do not seem friendly to the warriors of Manatos," she
remarked to Lan-O; "I have not seen a single welcoming sign from the
people on the balconies."

The slave girl looked at her in surprise. "It cannot be that you do not
know!" she exclaimed. "Why, they are--" but she got no further. The
door swung open and