A princess of Mars
the darkness their full purport dawned upon me—the key to the three
great doors of the atmosphere plant!
Turning suddenly toward Tardos Mors as I still clasped my dying love to
my breast I cried.
“A flier, Jeddak! Quick! Order your swiftest flier to the palace top. I
can save Barsoom yet.”
He did not wait to question, but in an instant a guard was racing to
the nearest dock and though the air was thin and almost gone at the
rooftop they managed to launch the fastest one-man, air-scout machine
that the skill of Barsoom had ever produced.
Kissing Dejah Thoris a dozen times and commanding Woola, who would have
followed me, to remain and guard her, I bounded with my old agility and
strength to the high ramparts of the palace, and in another moment I
was headed toward the goal of the hopes of all Barsoom.
I had to fly low to get sufficient air to breathe, but I took a
straight course across an old sea bottom and so had to rise only a few
feet above the ground.
I traveled with awful velocity for my errand was a race against time
with death. The face of Dejah Thoris hung always before me. As I turned
for a last look as I left the palace garden I had seen her stagger and
sink upon the ground beside the little incubator. That she had dropped
into the last coma which would end in death, if the air supply remained
unreplenished, I well knew, and so, throwing caution to the winds, I
flung overboard everything but the engine and compass, even to my
ornaments, and lying on my belly along the deck with one hand on the
steering wheel and the other pushing the speed lever to its last notch
I split the thin air of dying Mars with the speed of a meteor.
An hour before dark the great walls of the atmosphere plant loomed
suddenly before me, and with a sickening thud I plunged to the ground
before the small door which was withholding the spark of life from the
inhabitants of an entire planet.
Beside the door a great crew of men had been laboring to pierce the
wall, but they had scarcely scratched the flint-like surface, and now
most of them lay in the last sleep from which not even air would awaken
them.
Conditions seemed much worse here than at Helium, and it was with
difficulty that I breathed at all. There were a few men still
conscious, and to one of these I spoke.
“If I can open these doors is there a man who can start the engines?” I
asked.
“I can,” he replied, “if you open quickly. I can last but a few moments
more. But it is useless, they are both dead and no one else upon
Barsoom knew the secret of these awful locks. For three days men crazed
with fear have surged about this portal in vain attempts to solve its
mystery.”
I had no time to talk, I was becoming very weak and it was with
difficulty that I controlled my mind at all.
But, with a final effort, as I sank weakly to my knees I hurled the
nine thought waves at that awful thing before me. The Martian had
crawled to my side and with staring eyes fixed on the single panel
before us we waited in the silence of death.
Slowly the mighty door receded before us. I attempted to rise and
follow it but I was too weak.
“After it,” I cried to my companion, “and if you reach the pump room
turn loose all the pumps. It is the only chance Barsoom has to exist
tomorrow!”
From where I lay I opened the second door, and then the third, and as I
saw the hope of Barsoom crawling weakly on hands and knees through the
last doorway I sank unconscious upon the ground.
CHAPTER XXVIII
AT THE ARIZONA CAVE
It was dark when I opened my eyes again. Strange, stiff garments were
upon my body; garments that cracked and powdered away from me as I rose
to a sitting posture.
I felt myself over from head to foot and from head to foot I was
clothed, though when I fell unconscious at the little doorway I had
been naked. Before me was a small patch of moonlit sky which showed
through a ragged aperture.
As my hands passed over my body they came in contact with pockets and
in one of these a small parcel of matches wrapped in oiled paper. One
of these matches I struck, and its dim flame lighted up what appeared
to be a huge cave, toward the back of which I discovered a strange,
still figure huddled over a tiny bench. As I approached it I saw that
it was the dead and mummified remains of a little old woman with long
black hair, and the thing it leaned over was a small charcoal burner
upon which rested a round copper vessel containing a small quantity of
greenish powder.
Behind her, depending from the roof upon rawhide thongs, and stretching
entirely across the cave, was a row of human skeletons. From the thong
which held them stretched another to the dead hand of the little old
woman; as I touched the cord the skeletons swung to the motion with a
noise as of the rustling of dry leaves.
It was a most grotesque and horrid tableau and I hastened out into the
fresh air; glad to escape from so gruesome a place.
The sight that met my eyes as I stepped out upon a small ledge which
ran before the entrance of the cave filled me with consternation.
A new heaven and a new landscape met my gaze. The silvered mountains in
the distance, the almost stationary moon hanging in the sky, the
cacti-studded valley below me were not of Mars. I could scarce believe
my eyes, but the truth slowly forced itself upon me—I was looking upon
Arizona from the same ledge from which ten years before I had gazed
with longing upon Mars.
Burying my head in my arms I turned, broken, and sorrowful, down the
trail from the cave.
Above me shone the red eye of Mars holding her awful secret,
forty-eight million miles away.
Did the Martian reach the pump room? Did the vitalizing air reach the
people of that distant planet in time to save them? Was my Dejah Thoris
alive, or did her beautiful body lie cold in death beside the tiny
golden incubator in the sunken garden of the inner courtyard of the
palace of Tardos Mors, the jeddak of Helium?
For ten years I have waited and prayed for an answer to my questions.
For ten years I have waited and prayed to be taken back to the world of
my lost love. I would rather lie dead beside her there than live on
Earth all those millions of terrible miles from her.
The old mine, which I found untouched, has made me fabulously wealthy;
but what care I for wealth!
As I sit here tonight in my little study overlooking the Hudson, just
twenty years have elapsed since I first opened my eyes upon Mars.
I can see her shining in the sky through the little window by my desk,
and tonight she seems calling to me again as she has not called before
since that long dead night, and I think I can see, across that awful
abyss of space, a beautiful black-haired woman standing in the garden
of a palace, and at her side is a little boy who puts his arm around
her as she points into the sky toward the planet Earth, while at their
feet is a huge and hideous creature with a heart of gold.
I believe that they are waiting there for me, and something tells me
that I shall soon know.