h an exclamation of surprised pleasure he sprang forward, and,
placing his hands upon the boy's shoulder, called him by name.

"Carthoris, my Prince," he cried, "Kaor! Kaor! Hor Vastus greets the
son of Dejah Thoris, Princess of Helium, and of her husband, John
Carter. Where have you been, O my Prince? All Helium has been plunged
in sorrow. Terrible have been the calamities that have befallen your
great-grandsire's mighty nation since the fatal day that saw you leave
our midst."

"Grieve not, my good Hor Vastus," cried Carthoris, "since I bring not
back myself alone to cheer my mother's heart and the hearts of my
beloved people, but also one whom all Barsoom loved best--her greatest
warrior and her saviour--John Carter, Prince of Helium!"

Hor Vastus turned in the direction indicated by Carthoris, and as his
eyes fell upon me he was like to have collapsed from sheer surprise.

"John Carter!" he exclaimed, and then a sudden troubled look came into
his eyes. "My Prince," he started, "where hast thou--" and then he
stopped, but I knew the question that his lips dared not frame. The
loyal fellow would not be the one to force from mine a confession of
the terrible truth that I had returned from the bosom of the Iss, the
River of Mystery, back from the shore of the Lost Sea of Korus, and the
Valley Dor.

"Ah, my Prince," he continued, as though no thought had interrupted his
greeting, "that you are back is sufficient, and let Hor Vastus' sword
have the high honour of being first at thy feet." With these words the
noble fellow unbuckled his scabbard and flung his sword upon the ground
before me.

Could you know the customs and the character of red Martians you would
appreciate the depth of meaning that that simple act conveyed to me and
to all about us who witnessed it. The thing was equivalent to saying,
"My sword, my body, my life, my soul are yours to do with as you wish.
Until death and after death I look to you alone for authority for my
every act. Be you right or wrong, your word shall be my only truth.
Whoso raises his hand against you must answer to my sword."

It is the oath of fealty that men occasionally pay to a Jeddak whose
high character and chivalrous acts have inspired the enthusiastic love
of his followers. Never had I known this high tribute paid to a lesser
mortal. There was but one response possible. I stooped and lifted the
sword from the ground, raised the hilt to my lips, and then, st