A princess of Mars
and which I would never have known had he suspected my strange power,
for the Martians have such perfect control of their mental machinery
that they are able to direct their thoughts with absolute precision.
The building in which I found myself contained the machinery which
produces that artificial atmosphere which sustains life on Mars. The
secret of the entire process hinges on the use of the ninth ray, one of
the beautiful scintillations which I had noted emanating from the great
stone in my host’s diadem.
This ray is separated from the other rays of the sun by means of finely
adjusted instruments placed upon the roof of the huge building,
three-quarters of which is used for reservoirs in which the ninth ray
is stored. This product is then treated electrically, or rather certain
proportions of refined electric vibrations are incorporated with it,
and the result is then pumped to the five principal air centers of the
planet where, as it is released, contact with the ether of space
transforms it into atmosphere.
There is always sufficient reserve of the ninth ray stored in the great
building to maintain the present Martian atmosphere for a thousand
years, and the only fear, as my new friend told me, was that some
accident might befall the pumping apparatus.
He led me to an inner chamber where I beheld a battery of twenty radium
pumps any one of which was equal to the task of furnishing all Mars
with the atmosphere compound. For eight hundred years, he told me, he
had watched these pumps which are used alternately a day each at a
stretch, or a little over twenty-four and one-half Earth hours. He has
one assistant who divides the watch with him. Half a Martian year,
about three hundred and forty-four of our days, each of these men spend
alone in this huge, isolated plant.
Every red Martian is taught during earliest childhood the principles of
the manufacture of atmosphere, but only two at one time ever hold the
secret of ingress to the great building, which, built as it is with
walls a hundred and fifty feet thick, is absolutely unassailable, even
the roof being guarded from assault by air craft by a glass covering
five feet thick.
The only fear they entertain of attack is from the green Martians or
some demented red man, as all Barsoomians realize that the very
existence of every form of life of Mars is dependent upon the
uninterrupted working of this plant.
One curious fact I discovered as I watched his thoughts was that the
outer doors are manipulated by telepathic means. The locks are so
finely adjusted that the doors are released by the action of a certain
combination of thought waves. To experiment with my new-found toy I
thought to surprise him into revealing this combination and so I asked
him in a casual manner how he had managed to unlock the massive doors
for me from the inner chambers of the building. As quick as a flash
there leaped to his mind nine Martian sounds, but as quickly faded as
he answered that this was a secret he must not divulge.
From then on his manner toward me changed as though he feared that he
had been surprised into divulging his great secret, and I read
suspicion and fear in his looks and thoughts, though his words were
still fair.
Before I retired for the night he promised to give me a letter to a
nearby agricultural officer who would help me on my way to Zodanga,
which he said, was the nearest Martian city.
“But be sure that you do not let them know you are bound for Helium as
they are at war with that country. My assistant and I are of no
country, we belong to all Barsoom and this talisman which we wear
protects us in all lands, even among the green men—though we do not
trust ourselves to their hands if we can avoid it,” he added.
“And so good-night, my friend,” he continued, “may you have a long and
restful sleep—yes, a long sleep.”
And though he smiled pleasantly I saw in his thoughts the wish that he
had never admitted me, and then a picture of him standing over me in
the night, and the swift thrust of a long dagger and the half formed
words, “I am sorry, but it is for the best good of Barsoom.”
As he closed the door of my chamber behind him his thoughts were cut
off from me as was the sight of him, which seemed strange to me in my
little knowledge of thought transference.
What was I to do? How could I escape through these mighty walls? Easily
could I kill him now that I was warned, but once he was dead I could no
more escape, and with the stopping of the machinery of the great plant
I should die with all the other inhabitants of the planet—all, even
Dejah Thoris were she not already dead. For the others I did not give
the snap of my finger, but the thought of Dejah Thoris drove from my
mind all desire to kill my mistaken host.
Cautiously I opened the door of my apartment and, followed by Woola,
sought the inner of the great doors. A wild scheme had come to me; I
would attempt to force the great locks by the nine thought waves I had
read in my host’s mind.
Creeping stealthily through corridor after corridor and down winding
runways which turned hither and thither I finally reached the great
hall in which I had broken my long fast that morning. Nowhere had I
seen my host, nor did I know where he kept himself by night.
I was on the point of stepping boldly out into the room when a slight
noise behind me warned me back into the shadows of a recess in the
corridor. Dragging Woola after me I crouched low in the darkness.
Presently the old man passed close by me, and as he entered the dimly
lighted chamber which I had been about to pass through I saw that he
held a long thin dagger in his hand and that he was sharpening it upon
a stone. In his mind was the decision to inspect the radium pumps,
which would take about thirty minutes, and then return to my bed
chamber and finish me.
As he passed through the great hall and disappeared down the runway
which led to the pump-room, I stole stealthily from my hiding place and
crossed to the great door, the inner of the three which stood between
me and liberty.
Concentrating my mind upon the massive lock I hurled the nine thought
waves against it. In breathless expectancy I waited, when finally the
great door moved softly toward me and slid quietly to one side. One
after the other the remaining mighty portals opened at my command and
Woola and I stepped forth into the darkness, free, but little better
off than we had been before, other than that we had full stomachs.
Hastening away from the shadows of the formidable pile I made for the
first crossroad, intending to strike the central turnpike as quickly as
possible. This I reached about morning and entering the first enclosure
I came to I searched for some evidences of a habitation.
There were low rambling buildings of concrete barred with heavy
impassable doors, and no amount of hammering and hallooing brought any
response. Weary and exhausted from sleeplessness I threw myself upon
the ground commanding Woola to stand guard.
Some time later I was awakened by his frightful growlings and opened my
eyes to see three red Martians standing a short distance from us and
covering me with their rifles.
“I am unarmed and no enemy,” I hastened to explain. “I have been a
prisoner among the green men and am on my way to Zodanga. All I ask is
food and rest for myself and my calot and the proper directions for
reaching my destination.”
They lowered their rifles and advanced pleasantly toward me placing
their right hands upon my left shoulder, after the manner of their
custom of salute, and asking me many questions about myself and my
wanderings. They then took me to the house of one of them which was
only a short distance away.
The buildings I had been hammering at in the early morning were
occupied only by stock and farm produce, the house proper standing
among a grove of enormous trees, and, like all red-Martian homes, had
been raised at night some forty or fifty feet from the ground on a
large round metal shaft which slid up or down within a sleeve sunk in
the ground, and was operated by a tiny radium engine in the entrance
hall of the building. Instead of bothering with bolts and bars for
their dwellings, the red Martians simply run them up out of harm’s way
during the night. They also have private means for lowering or raising
them from the ground without if they wish to go away and leave them.
These brothers, with their wives and children, occupied three similar
houses on this farm. They did no work themselves, being government
officers in charge. The labor was performed by convicts, prisoners of
war, delinquent debtors and confirmed bachelors who were too poor to
pay the high celibate tax which all red-Martian governments impose.
They were the personification of cordiality and hospitality and I spent
several days with them, resting and recuperating from my long and
arduous experiences.
When they had heard my story—I omitted all reference to Dejah Thoris
and the old man of the atmosphere plant—they advised me to color my
body to more nearly resemble their own race and then attempt to find
employment in Zodanga, either in the army or the navy.
“The chances are small that your tale will be believed until after you
have proven your trustworthiness and won friends among the higher
nobles of the court. This you can most easily do through military
service, as we are a warlike people on Barsoom,” explained one of them,
“and save our richest favors for the fighting man.”
When I was ready to depart they furnished me with a small domestic bull
thoat, such as is used for saddle purposes by all red Martians. The
animal is about the size of a horse and quite gentle, but in color and
shape an exact replica of his huge and fierce cousin of the wilds.
The brothers had supplied me with a reddish oil with which I anointed
my entire body and one of them cut my hair, which had grown quite long,
in the prevailing fashion of the time, square at the back and banged in
front, so that I could have passed anywhere upon Barsoom as a
full-fledged red Martian. My metal and ornaments were also renewed in
the style of a Zodangan gentleman, attached to the house of Ptor, which
was the family name of my benefactors.
They filled a little sack at my side with Zodangan money. The medium of
exchange upon Mars is not dissimilar from our own except that the coins
are oval. Paper money is issued by individuals as they require it and
redeemed twice yearly. If a man issues more than he can redeem, the
government pays his creditors in full and the debtor works out the
amount upon the farms or in mines, which are all owned by the
government. This suits everybody except the debtor as it has been a
difficult thing to obtain sufficient voluntary labor to work the great
isolated farm lands of Mars, stretching as they do like narrow ribbons
from pole to pole, through wild stretches peopled by wild animals and
wilder men.
When I mentioned my inability to repay them for their kindness to me
they assured me that I would have ample opportunity if I lived long
upon Barsoom, and bidding me farewell they watched me until I was out
of sight upon the broad white turnpike.
CHAPTER XXI
AN AIR SCOUT FOR ZODANGA
As I proceeded on my journey toward Zodanga many strange and
interesting sights arrested my attention, and at the several farm
houses where I stopped I learned a number of new and instructive things
concerning the methods and manners of Barsoom.
The water which supplies the farms of Mars is collected in immense
underground reservoirs at either pole from the melting ice caps, and
pumped through long conduits to the various populated centers. Along
either side of these conduits, and extending their entire length, lie