ors as they started to Tars Tarkas' cell
earlier in the evening. His companions had returned here, and we now
overheard a portion of their conversation.

"What can be detaining Tan Gama?" asked one.

"He certainly could not be all this time fetching his shortsword from
the Thark's cell," spoke another.

"His short-sword?" asked a woman. "What mean you?"

"Tan Gama left his short-sword in the Thark's cell," explained the
first speaker, "and left us at the runway, to return and get it."

"Tan Gama wore no short-sword this night," said the woman. "It was
broken in to-day's battle with the Thark, and Tan Gama gave it to me to
repair. See, I have it here," and as she spoke she drew Tan Gama's
short-sword from beneath her sleeping silks and furs.

The warriors sprang to their feet.

"There is something amiss here," cried one.

"'Tis even what I myself thought when Tan Gama left us at the runway,"
said another. "Methought then that his voice sounded strangely."

"Come! let us hasten to the pits."

We waited to hear no more. Slinging my harness into a long single
strap, I lowered Tars Tarkas to the courtyard beneath, and an instant
later dropped to his side.

We had spoken scarcely a dozen words since I had felled Tan Gama at the
cell door and seen in the torch's light the expression of utter
bewilderment upon the great Thark's face.

"By this time," he had said, "I should have learned to wonder at
nothing which John Carter accomplishes." That was all. He did not
need to tell me that he appreciated the friendship which had prompted
me to risk my life to rescue him, nor did he need to say that he was
glad to see me.

This fierce green warrior had been the first to greet me that day, now
twenty years gone, which had witnessed my first advent upon Mars. He
had met me with levelled spear and cruel hatred in his heart as he
charged down upon me, bending low at the side of his mighty thoat as I
stood beside the incubator of his horde upon the dead sea bottom beyond
Korad. And now among the inhabitants of two worlds I counted none a
better friend than Tars Tarkas, Jeddak of the Tharks.

As we reached the courtyard we stood in the shadows beneath the balcony
for a moment to discuss our plans.

"There be five now in the party, Tars Tarkas," I said; "Thuvia, Xodar,
Carthoris, and ourselves. We shall need five thoats to bear us."

"Carthoris!" he cried. "Your son?"

"Yes. I found him in the prison of Shad