January 3, 2026 • 22 mins
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Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter four, a green Man's captive. When the light of
day broke upon the little craft to whose deck the
Princess of Ptarth had been snatched from her father's garden,
Thuvius saw that the night had wrought a change in
her abductors. No longer did their trappings gleam with the
(00:20):
metal of Dusar, but instead there was emblazoned there the
insignia of the Prince of Helium. The girl felt renewed hope,
for she could not believe that in the heart of
Carthoris could lie intent to harm her. She spoke to
the warrior squatting before the control board. Last night you
(00:42):
wore the trappings of a Dusarian, she said, Now you
are metal as that of Helium. What means it? The
man looked at her with a grin. The Prince of
Helium is no fool, he said. Just then an officer
emerged from the tiny cabin. He reprimanded the warrior for
(01:03):
conversing with the prisoner, nor would he himself reply to
any of her inquiries. No harm was offered her during
the journey, and so they came at last to their destination,
with the girl no wiser as to her abductors or
their purpose than at first. Here the flier settled slowly
(01:25):
into the plaza of one of those mute monuments of Marses,
dead and forgotten, past the deserted cities that fringe the
sad oak here sea bottoms, where once rolled the mighty floods,
upon whose bosoms moved the maritime commerce of the peoples
that are gone forever. Thuvia of Ptarth was no stranger
(01:48):
to such places. During her wanderings in search of the
River Iss. That time she had set out upon what
for countless ages had been the last long the pilgrimage
of Martians toward the valley door where lies the lost
Sea of Korus. She had encountered several of these sad
(02:08):
remainders of the greatness and of the glory of ancient Barsoom.
And again, during her flight from the temples of the
Holy Ferns with Tars Tarkas Jeddak of Thark, she had
seen them, with their weird and ghostly inmates, the great
white apes of Barsoom. She knew too that many of
(02:31):
them were now used by the nomadic tribes of green men,
but that among them all was no city that the
red men did not shun, for without exception, they stood
amidst vast, waterless tracts, unsuited for the continued sustenance of
the dominant race of Martians. Why then, should they bring
(02:53):
her to such a place? There was but a single answer.
Such was the nature of their work that they must
needs seek the seclusion that a dead city afforded. The
girl trembled at thought her plight. For two days, her
captors kept her within a huge palace that, even in decay,
(03:14):
reflected the splendor of the age which its youth had known.
Just before dawn on the third day, she had been
roused by the voices of two of her abductors. He
should be here by dawn, one was saying, have her
in readiness upon the plaza, else he will never land.
(03:35):
The moment he finds that he is in a strange country,
he will turn about. Methinks the Prince's plan is weak
in this one spot. There was no other way, replied
the other. It is wondrous work to get them both
here at all, and even if we do not succeed
in luring him to the ground, we shall have accomplished much.
(03:57):
Just then the speaker caught the eyes of Uvia upon him,
revealed by the quick moving patch of light cast by
Thuria in her mad race through the heavens. With a
quick sign to the other, he ceased speaking and advancing
toward the girl, motioned her to eyes. Then he led
her out into the night, toward the center of a
(04:19):
great plaza. Stand here, he commanded, until we come for you,
we shall be watching, and should you attempt to escape,
it will go ill for you much worse than death.
Such are the Prince's orders. Then he turned and retraced
his steps towards the palace, leaving her alone in the
(04:40):
midst of the unseen terrors of the haunted city. For
in truth, these places are haunted in the belief of
many Martians who still cling to an ancient superstition which
teaches that the spirits of holy Thurns, who die before
their allotted one thousand years, pass on occasions into the
bodies of the great white Apes to Thuvia. However, the
(05:04):
real danger of attack by one of these ferocious manlike
beasts was quite sufficient. She no longer believed in the
weird soul transmigration that the Thurns had taught her before
she was rescued from their clutches by John Carter. But
she well knew the horrid fate that awaited her should
one of the terrible beasts chance to spy her during
(05:26):
its nocturnal prowlings. What was that? Surely she could not
be mistaken. Something had moved stealthily in the shadow of
one of the great monoliths that lie in the avenue
where it entered the plaza opposite her. Far Ban jed
(05:47):
among the hordes of Torquas, rode swiftly across the ochre
vegetation of the dead sea bottom, toward the ruins of
ancient Anthor. He had ridden far that night and fast,
for he had but come from the despoiling of the
incubator of a neighboring green horde, with which the hordes
of Torquas were perpetually warring. His giant thoat was far
(06:11):
from jaded. Yet it would be well thought thar Ban
to permit him to graze upon the ochre moss, which
grows to greater height within the protected court yards of
deserted cities, where the soil is richer than on the
sea bottoms, and the plants partly shaded from the sun.
During the cloudless Martian day. Within the tiny stems of
(06:33):
this dry seeming plant is sufficient moisture for the needs
of the huge bodies of the mighty thoats, which can
exist for months without water, and for days without even
the slight moisture which the ochre moss contains. As thar
Ban rode noiselessly up the broad avenue which leads from
the quays of Anthor to the great central Plaza, he
(06:57):
and his mount might have been mistaken for specters from
a world of dreams. So grotesque the man and beast,
so soundless the great thoat's padded nailss feet upon the
moss grown flagging of the ancient pavement. The man was
a splendid specimen of his race, Fully fifteen feet towered,
(07:21):
his great height from soul to pate. The moonlight glistened
against his glossy green hide, sparkling the jewels of his
heavy harness and the ornaments that waited his four muscular arms,
while the upcurving tusks that protruded from his lower jaw
gleamed white and terrible. At the side of his thoat
(07:43):
were slung his long radium rifle and his great forty
foot metal shod spear, while from his own harness defended
his long sword and his short sword, as well as
as lesser weapons. His protruding eyes and antennae like ears
were turning constantly hither and thither, for thar Ban was
(08:05):
yet in the country of the enemy. And two there
was always the menace of the great white apes, which
John Connor was wont to say, are the only creatures
that can arouse in the breasts of these fierce denizens
of the dead sea bottoms, even the remotest semblance of fear.
As the writer neared the plaza he reined in, Suddenly
(08:28):
his slender, tubular ears pointed rigidly forward. An unwonted sound
had reached them voices. And where there were voices outside
of Torcas, there too were enemies. All the world of
wide Barsoom contained naught but enemies for the fierce Torcasians.
(08:50):
Far Ban dismounted. Keeping in the shadows of the great
monoliths that line the avenue of Quays of Sleeping Anthor,
he approached the plot directly behind him as a hound
at heel came the slate gray thoat, his white belly
shadowed by his barrel, his vivid yellow feet merging into
(09:12):
the yellow of the moss beneath them. In the center
of the plaza, far Ban saw the figure of a
red woman. A red warrior was conversing with her. Now
the man turned and retraced his steps toward the palace
at the opposite side of the plaza. Far Ban watched
until he had disappeared within the yawning portal. Here was
(09:36):
a captive worth having. Seldom did a female of their
hereditary enemies fall to the lot of a green man.
Far Ban licked his thin lips. Thuvia of Ptarth watched
the shadow behind the monolith at the opening of the
avenue opposite her. She hoped that it might be but
(09:58):
the figment of an overwrought imagination. But no. Now, clearly
and distinctly she saw it move. It came from behind
the screening shelter of the air sight shaft. The sudden
light of the rising sun fell upon it. The girl trembled.
The thing was a huge green warrior. Swiftly it sprang
(10:23):
toward her. She screamed and tried to flee, but she
had scarce turned toward the palace when a giant hand
fell upon her arm. She was whirled about and half dragged,
half carried toward a huge thoat that was slowly grazing
out of the avenue's mouth on the ochra moss of
the plaza. At the same instant, she turned her face
(10:46):
upward toward the whirring sound of something above her, and
there she saw a swift flier dropping toward her, the
head and shoulders of a man leaning far over the side,
But the man's features were deeply shadowed. She did not
recognize them. Now from behind her came the shouts of
her red abductors. They were racing madly after him, who
(11:09):
dared to steal what they had already stolen. As thar
Ban reached the side of his mount, he snatched his
long radium rifle from its boot, and, wheeling, poured three
shots into the oncoming Red men. Such is the uncanny
marksmanship of these Martian savages that three Red warriors dropped
(11:29):
in their tracks as three projectiles exploded in their vitals.
The others halted, nor did they dare return the fire
for fear of wounding the girl. Then thar Ban vaulted
to the back of his thoat, Thuvia of Ptarth still
in his arms, and with a savage cry of triumph,
(11:49):
disappeared down the black canyon of the Avenue of Quays
between the sullen palaces of Forgotten an Thor. Carthoris's flore
had not touched the ground before he had sprung from
its deck to race after the swift thoat, whose eight
long legs were sending it down the avenue at the
rate of an express train. But the men of Dusar,
(12:12):
who still remained alive, had no mind to permit so
valuable a capture to escape them. They had lost the girl.
That would be a difficult thing to explain to Astok,
but some leniency might be expected. Could they carry the
Prince of Helium to their master instead? So the three
who remained set upon Carthoris with their long swords, crying
(12:36):
to him to surrender. But they might as successfully have
cried aloud to Thuria to cease her mad hurdling through
the Barsoomian sky. For Carthoris of Helium was a true
son of the warlord of Mars and his incomparable dejah Thoris.
Carthoris's long sword had been already in his hand as
he leaped from the deck of the flier, so the
(12:58):
instant that he realized the men of the three Red Warriors,
he wheeled to face them, meeting their onslaught as only
John Carter himself might have done so, swift his sword,
so mighty and agile his half earthly muscles, that one
of his opponents was down, crimsoning the ochre moss with
his life blood. When he had scarce made a single
(13:21):
pass at Carthoris. Now the two Romanian Dusarians rushed simultaneously
upon the heliumite. Three long swords clashed and sparkled in
the moonlight, until the great white apes roused from their slumber,
crept through the lowering windows of the dead city to
view the bloody scene beneath them. Thrice was Carthoris touched,
(13:45):
so that the red blood ran down his face, blinding
him and dyeing his broad chest. With his free hand,
he wiped the gore from his eyes, and, with the
fighting smile of his father, touching his lips, leaped upon
his antagonists with renewed fury. A single cut of his
heavy sword severed the head of one of them, and
(14:06):
then the other. Backing away clear of that point of death,
turned and fled toward the palace at his back. Carthoris
made no step to pursue. He had other concern than
the metting of well deserved punishment to strange men who
masqueraded in the mettle of his own house, for he
had seen that these men were tricked out in the
(14:27):
insignia that marked his personal followers. Turning quickly toward his flier,
he was soon rising from the plaza in pursuit of
thar Ban, the red warrior, whom he had put to flight.
Turned in the entrance to the palace, and, seeing Carthoris's intent,
snatched a rifle from those he and his fellows had
(14:49):
left leaning against the wall, as they had rushed out
with drawn swords to prevent the theft of their prisoner.
Few red men are good shots, for the sword is
their chosen. So now, as the Dusarian drew bead upon
the rising flier and touched the button upon his rifle's stock,
it was more to chance than proficiency that he owed
(15:10):
the partial success of his aim. The projectile grazed the
flier's side, the opaque coating breaking sufficiently to permit daylight
to strike in upon the powder phile within the bullet's nose.
There was a sharp explosion. Carthoris felt his craft reel
drunkenly beneath him, and the engine stopped. The momentum the
(15:33):
air boat had gained carried her on over the city
toward the sea bottom beyond. The red Warrior in the
plaza fired several more shots, none of which scored. Then
a lofty minaret shut the drifting quarry from his view.
In the distance before him, Carthoris could see the Green
Warrior bearing Thuvia of Ptarth away upon his mighty thoat.
(15:57):
The direction of his flight was toward the northwest of Anthor,
where lay a mountainous country little known to red men.
The Heliumite now gave his attention to his injured craft.
A close examination revealed the fact that one of the
buoyancy tanks had been punctured, but the engine itself was uninjured.
(16:17):
A splinter from the projectile had damaged one of the
control levers beyond the possibility of repair outside a machine shop.
But after considerable tinkering, Carthoris was able to propel his
wounded flier at low speed, a rate which could not
approach the rapid gait of the thoat, whose eight long,
powerful legs carried it over the oocre of vegetation of
(16:38):
the dead sea bottom at terrific speed. The Prince of
Helium chafed and fretted at the slowness of his pursuit.
Yet was he thankful that the damage was no worse,
for now he could at least move more rapidly than
on foot. But even this meager satisfaction was soon to
be denied him, for presently the fly commenced to sag
(17:01):
toward the port, and by the bow the damage to
the buoyancy tank had evidently been more grievous than he
had at first believed. All the balance of that long
day Carthoris crawled erratically through the still air, the bow
of his flier sinking lower and lower, and the list
(17:21):
to port becoming more and more alarming, until at last,
near dark, he was floating almost bow down, his harness
buckled to a heavy deck ring to keep him from
being precipitated to the ground below. His forward movement was
now confined to a slow drifting with the gentle breeze
that blew out of the southeast, and when this died
(17:44):
down with the setting of the sun, he let the
flier sink gently to the mossy carpet. Beneath. Far before
him loomed the mountains toward which the Green Man had
been fleeing when last he had seen him. And, with
dogged resolution the so of John Carter, endowed with the
indomitable will of his mighty sire, took up the pursuit
(18:06):
on foot. All that night he forged ahead, until with
the dawning of a new day, he entered the low
foothills that guard the approach to the fastness of the
mountains of Torquass. Rugged granitic walls towered before him. Nowhere
could he discern an opening through the formidable barrier. Yet
(18:29):
somewhere into this inhospitable world of stone, the Green Warrior
had borne the woman of the Red Man's heart's desire.
Across the yielding moss of the sea bottom. There had
been no spoor to follow for the soft pads of
the thoat, but pressed down in his swift passage the
resilient vegetation, which sprang back up again beneath his fleeting feet,
(18:52):
leaving no sign. But here in the hills, where a
loose rock occasionally strewed, the way, where a black lily
loam and wild flowers partially replaced the somber monotony of
the waste places of the lowlands. Carthoris hoped to find
some sign that would lead him in the right direction. Yet,
(19:13):
search as he would, the baffling mystery of the trail
seemed likely to remain forever unsolved. It was drawing toward
the day's close once more when the keen eyes of
the Heliumite discerned the tawny yellow of a sleek hide
moving among the boulders several hundred yards to his left.
Crouching quickly behind a large rock, Carthoris watched the thing
(19:36):
before him. It was a huge banth, one of those
savage Barsoomian lions that roamed the desolate hills of the
dying planet. The creature's nose was close to the ground.
It was evident that he was following the spoor of
meat by scent. As Carthoris watched him, a great hope
(19:57):
leaped into the man's heart. He possibly might lie the
solution to the mystery he had been endeavoring to solve.
This hungry carnivore, keen always for the flesh of man,
might even now be trailing the two whom Carthoris sought. Cautiously,
the youth crept out upon the trail of the man
(20:18):
eater along the foot of the perpendicular cliff. The creature moved,
sniffing at the invisible spoor, and now and then emitting
the low moan of the hunting banth. Carthoris had followed
the creature for but a few minutes when it disappeared,
as suddenly and mysteriously, as though dissolved into thin air.
(20:39):
The man leaped to his feet. Not again was he
to be cheated as the man had cheated him. He
sprang forward at a reckless pace, to the spot at
which he had last seen the great skulking brute. Before
him loomed the sheer cliff, its face unbroken by any
aperture into which the huge banth might have warmed its
(20:59):
great carcass. Beside him was a small flat boulder, not
larger than the deck of a ten man flier, nor
standing to a greater height than twice his own stature.
Perhaps the banth was in hiding behind this. The brute
might have discovered the man upon his trail, and even
now be lying in wait for his easy prey. Cautiously
(21:23):
with drawn long sword, Carthoris crept around the corner of
the rock. There was no banth there, but something which
surprised him infinitely more than with the presence of twenty
banths before him, yawned the mouth of a dark cave
leading downward into the ground. Through this the banth must
(21:45):
have disappeared. Was it his lair? Within its dark and
forbidding interior, might there not lurk not one but many
of the fearsome creatures. Carthoris did not know, nor with
the thought that had been spurring him onward upon the
trail of the creature uppermost in his mind, did he
(22:06):
much care for Into this gloomy cavern, he was sure
the band had trailed the green Man and his captive,
and into which he too would follow, content to give
his life in the service of the woman he loved.
Not an instant did he hesitate, Nor yet did he
advance rashly, but with ready sword and cautious steps, For
(22:30):
the way was dark. He stole on. As he advanced,
the obscurity became impenetrable darkness. End of Chapter four
Chapter four, a green Man's captive. When the light of
day broke upon the little craft to whose deck the
Princess of Ptarth had been snatched from her father's garden,
Thuvius saw that the night had wrought a change in
her abductors. No longer did their trappings gleam with the
(00:20):
metal of Dusar, but instead there was emblazoned there the
insignia of the Prince of Helium. The girl felt renewed hope,
for she could not believe that in the heart of
Carthoris could lie intent to harm her. She spoke to
the warrior squatting before the control board. Last night you
(00:42):
wore the trappings of a Dusarian, she said, Now you
are metal as that of Helium. What means it? The
man looked at her with a grin. The Prince of
Helium is no fool, he said. Just then an officer
emerged from the tiny cabin. He reprimanded the warrior for
(01:03):
conversing with the prisoner, nor would he himself reply to
any of her inquiries. No harm was offered her during
the journey, and so they came at last to their destination,
with the girl no wiser as to her abductors or
their purpose than at first. Here the flier settled slowly
(01:25):
into the plaza of one of those mute monuments of Marses,
dead and forgotten, past the deserted cities that fringe the
sad oak here sea bottoms, where once rolled the mighty floods,
upon whose bosoms moved the maritime commerce of the peoples
that are gone forever. Thuvia of Ptarth was no stranger
(01:48):
to such places. During her wanderings in search of the
River Iss. That time she had set out upon what
for countless ages had been the last long the pilgrimage
of Martians toward the valley door where lies the lost
Sea of Korus. She had encountered several of these sad
(02:08):
remainders of the greatness and of the glory of ancient Barsoom.
And again, during her flight from the temples of the
Holy Ferns with Tars Tarkas Jeddak of Thark, she had
seen them, with their weird and ghostly inmates, the great
white apes of Barsoom. She knew too that many of
(02:31):
them were now used by the nomadic tribes of green men,
but that among them all was no city that the
red men did not shun, for without exception, they stood
amidst vast, waterless tracts, unsuited for the continued sustenance of
the dominant race of Martians. Why then, should they bring
(02:53):
her to such a place? There was but a single answer.
Such was the nature of their work that they must
needs seek the seclusion that a dead city afforded. The
girl trembled at thought her plight. For two days, her
captors kept her within a huge palace that, even in decay,
(03:14):
reflected the splendor of the age which its youth had known.
Just before dawn on the third day, she had been
roused by the voices of two of her abductors. He
should be here by dawn, one was saying, have her
in readiness upon the plaza, else he will never land.
(03:35):
The moment he finds that he is in a strange country,
he will turn about. Methinks the Prince's plan is weak
in this one spot. There was no other way, replied
the other. It is wondrous work to get them both
here at all, and even if we do not succeed
in luring him to the ground, we shall have accomplished much.
(03:57):
Just then the speaker caught the eyes of Uvia upon him,
revealed by the quick moving patch of light cast by
Thuria in her mad race through the heavens. With a
quick sign to the other, he ceased speaking and advancing
toward the girl, motioned her to eyes. Then he led
her out into the night, toward the center of a
(04:19):
great plaza. Stand here, he commanded, until we come for you,
we shall be watching, and should you attempt to escape,
it will go ill for you much worse than death.
Such are the Prince's orders. Then he turned and retraced
his steps towards the palace, leaving her alone in the
(04:40):
midst of the unseen terrors of the haunted city. For
in truth, these places are haunted in the belief of
many Martians who still cling to an ancient superstition which
teaches that the spirits of holy Thurns, who die before
their allotted one thousand years, pass on occasions into the
bodies of the great white Apes to Thuvia. However, the
(05:04):
real danger of attack by one of these ferocious manlike
beasts was quite sufficient. She no longer believed in the
weird soul transmigration that the Thurns had taught her before
she was rescued from their clutches by John Carter. But
she well knew the horrid fate that awaited her should
one of the terrible beasts chance to spy her during
(05:26):
its nocturnal prowlings. What was that? Surely she could not
be mistaken. Something had moved stealthily in the shadow of
one of the great monoliths that lie in the avenue
where it entered the plaza opposite her. Far Ban jed
(05:47):
among the hordes of Torquas, rode swiftly across the ochre
vegetation of the dead sea bottom, toward the ruins of
ancient Anthor. He had ridden far that night and fast,
for he had but come from the despoiling of the
incubator of a neighboring green horde, with which the hordes
of Torquas were perpetually warring. His giant thoat was far
(06:11):
from jaded. Yet it would be well thought thar Ban
to permit him to graze upon the ochre moss, which
grows to greater height within the protected court yards of
deserted cities, where the soil is richer than on the
sea bottoms, and the plants partly shaded from the sun.
During the cloudless Martian day. Within the tiny stems of
(06:33):
this dry seeming plant is sufficient moisture for the needs
of the huge bodies of the mighty thoats, which can
exist for months without water, and for days without even
the slight moisture which the ochre moss contains. As thar
Ban rode noiselessly up the broad avenue which leads from
the quays of Anthor to the great central Plaza, he
(06:57):
and his mount might have been mistaken for specters from
a world of dreams. So grotesque the man and beast,
so soundless the great thoat's padded nailss feet upon the
moss grown flagging of the ancient pavement. The man was
a splendid specimen of his race, Fully fifteen feet towered,
(07:21):
his great height from soul to pate. The moonlight glistened
against his glossy green hide, sparkling the jewels of his
heavy harness and the ornaments that waited his four muscular arms,
while the upcurving tusks that protruded from his lower jaw
gleamed white and terrible. At the side of his thoat
(07:43):
were slung his long radium rifle and his great forty
foot metal shod spear, while from his own harness defended
his long sword and his short sword, as well as
as lesser weapons. His protruding eyes and antennae like ears
were turning constantly hither and thither, for thar Ban was
(08:05):
yet in the country of the enemy. And two there
was always the menace of the great white apes, which
John Connor was wont to say, are the only creatures
that can arouse in the breasts of these fierce denizens
of the dead sea bottoms, even the remotest semblance of fear.
As the writer neared the plaza he reined in, Suddenly
(08:28):
his slender, tubular ears pointed rigidly forward. An unwonted sound
had reached them voices. And where there were voices outside
of Torcas, there too were enemies. All the world of
wide Barsoom contained naught but enemies for the fierce Torcasians.
(08:50):
Far Ban dismounted. Keeping in the shadows of the great
monoliths that line the avenue of Quays of Sleeping Anthor,
he approached the plot directly behind him as a hound
at heel came the slate gray thoat, his white belly
shadowed by his barrel, his vivid yellow feet merging into
(09:12):
the yellow of the moss beneath them. In the center
of the plaza, far Ban saw the figure of a
red woman. A red warrior was conversing with her. Now
the man turned and retraced his steps toward the palace
at the opposite side of the plaza. Far Ban watched
until he had disappeared within the yawning portal. Here was
(09:36):
a captive worth having. Seldom did a female of their
hereditary enemies fall to the lot of a green man.
Far Ban licked his thin lips. Thuvia of Ptarth watched
the shadow behind the monolith at the opening of the
avenue opposite her. She hoped that it might be but
(09:58):
the figment of an overwrought imagination. But no. Now, clearly
and distinctly she saw it move. It came from behind
the screening shelter of the air sight shaft. The sudden
light of the rising sun fell upon it. The girl trembled.
The thing was a huge green warrior. Swiftly it sprang
(10:23):
toward her. She screamed and tried to flee, but she
had scarce turned toward the palace when a giant hand
fell upon her arm. She was whirled about and half dragged,
half carried toward a huge thoat that was slowly grazing
out of the avenue's mouth on the ochra moss of
the plaza. At the same instant, she turned her face
(10:46):
upward toward the whirring sound of something above her, and
there she saw a swift flier dropping toward her, the
head and shoulders of a man leaning far over the side,
But the man's features were deeply shadowed. She did not
recognize them. Now from behind her came the shouts of
her red abductors. They were racing madly after him, who
(11:09):
dared to steal what they had already stolen. As thar
Ban reached the side of his mount, he snatched his
long radium rifle from its boot, and, wheeling, poured three
shots into the oncoming Red men. Such is the uncanny
marksmanship of these Martian savages that three Red warriors dropped
(11:29):
in their tracks as three projectiles exploded in their vitals.
The others halted, nor did they dare return the fire
for fear of wounding the girl. Then thar Ban vaulted
to the back of his thoat, Thuvia of Ptarth still
in his arms, and with a savage cry of triumph,
(11:49):
disappeared down the black canyon of the Avenue of Quays
between the sullen palaces of Forgotten an Thor. Carthoris's flore
had not touched the ground before he had sprung from
its deck to race after the swift thoat, whose eight
long legs were sending it down the avenue at the
rate of an express train. But the men of Dusar,
(12:12):
who still remained alive, had no mind to permit so
valuable a capture to escape them. They had lost the girl.
That would be a difficult thing to explain to Astok,
but some leniency might be expected. Could they carry the
Prince of Helium to their master instead? So the three
who remained set upon Carthoris with their long swords, crying
(12:36):
to him to surrender. But they might as successfully have
cried aloud to Thuria to cease her mad hurdling through
the Barsoomian sky. For Carthoris of Helium was a true
son of the warlord of Mars and his incomparable dejah Thoris.
Carthoris's long sword had been already in his hand as
he leaped from the deck of the flier, so the
(12:58):
instant that he realized the men of the three Red Warriors,
he wheeled to face them, meeting their onslaught as only
John Carter himself might have done so, swift his sword,
so mighty and agile his half earthly muscles, that one
of his opponents was down, crimsoning the ochre moss with
his life blood. When he had scarce made a single
(13:21):
pass at Carthoris. Now the two Romanian Dusarians rushed simultaneously
upon the heliumite. Three long swords clashed and sparkled in
the moonlight, until the great white apes roused from their slumber,
crept through the lowering windows of the dead city to
view the bloody scene beneath them. Thrice was Carthoris touched,
(13:45):
so that the red blood ran down his face, blinding
him and dyeing his broad chest. With his free hand,
he wiped the gore from his eyes, and, with the
fighting smile of his father, touching his lips, leaped upon
his antagonists with renewed fury. A single cut of his
heavy sword severed the head of one of them, and
(14:06):
then the other. Backing away clear of that point of death,
turned and fled toward the palace at his back. Carthoris
made no step to pursue. He had other concern than
the metting of well deserved punishment to strange men who
masqueraded in the mettle of his own house, for he
had seen that these men were tricked out in the
(14:27):
insignia that marked his personal followers. Turning quickly toward his flier,
he was soon rising from the plaza in pursuit of
thar Ban, the red warrior, whom he had put to flight.
Turned in the entrance to the palace, and, seeing Carthoris's intent,
snatched a rifle from those he and his fellows had
(14:49):
left leaning against the wall, as they had rushed out
with drawn swords to prevent the theft of their prisoner.
Few red men are good shots, for the sword is
their chosen. So now, as the Dusarian drew bead upon
the rising flier and touched the button upon his rifle's stock,
it was more to chance than proficiency that he owed
(15:10):
the partial success of his aim. The projectile grazed the
flier's side, the opaque coating breaking sufficiently to permit daylight
to strike in upon the powder phile within the bullet's nose.
There was a sharp explosion. Carthoris felt his craft reel
drunkenly beneath him, and the engine stopped. The momentum the
(15:33):
air boat had gained carried her on over the city
toward the sea bottom beyond. The red Warrior in the
plaza fired several more shots, none of which scored. Then
a lofty minaret shut the drifting quarry from his view.
In the distance before him, Carthoris could see the Green
Warrior bearing Thuvia of Ptarth away upon his mighty thoat.
(15:57):
The direction of his flight was toward the northwest of Anthor,
where lay a mountainous country little known to red men.
The Heliumite now gave his attention to his injured craft.
A close examination revealed the fact that one of the
buoyancy tanks had been punctured, but the engine itself was uninjured.
(16:17):
A splinter from the projectile had damaged one of the
control levers beyond the possibility of repair outside a machine shop.
But after considerable tinkering, Carthoris was able to propel his
wounded flier at low speed, a rate which could not
approach the rapid gait of the thoat, whose eight long,
powerful legs carried it over the oocre of vegetation of
(16:38):
the dead sea bottom at terrific speed. The Prince of
Helium chafed and fretted at the slowness of his pursuit.
Yet was he thankful that the damage was no worse,
for now he could at least move more rapidly than
on foot. But even this meager satisfaction was soon to
be denied him, for presently the fly commenced to sag
(17:01):
toward the port, and by the bow the damage to
the buoyancy tank had evidently been more grievous than he
had at first believed. All the balance of that long
day Carthoris crawled erratically through the still air, the bow
of his flier sinking lower and lower, and the list
(17:21):
to port becoming more and more alarming, until at last,
near dark, he was floating almost bow down, his harness
buckled to a heavy deck ring to keep him from
being precipitated to the ground below. His forward movement was
now confined to a slow drifting with the gentle breeze
that blew out of the southeast, and when this died
(17:44):
down with the setting of the sun, he let the
flier sink gently to the mossy carpet. Beneath. Far before
him loomed the mountains toward which the Green Man had
been fleeing when last he had seen him. And, with
dogged resolution the so of John Carter, endowed with the
indomitable will of his mighty sire, took up the pursuit
(18:06):
on foot. All that night he forged ahead, until with
the dawning of a new day, he entered the low
foothills that guard the approach to the fastness of the
mountains of Torquass. Rugged granitic walls towered before him. Nowhere
could he discern an opening through the formidable barrier. Yet
(18:29):
somewhere into this inhospitable world of stone, the Green Warrior
had borne the woman of the Red Man's heart's desire.
Across the yielding moss of the sea bottom. There had
been no spoor to follow for the soft pads of
the thoat, but pressed down in his swift passage the
resilient vegetation, which sprang back up again beneath his fleeting feet,
(18:52):
leaving no sign. But here in the hills, where a
loose rock occasionally strewed, the way, where a black lily
loam and wild flowers partially replaced the somber monotony of
the waste places of the lowlands. Carthoris hoped to find
some sign that would lead him in the right direction. Yet,
(19:13):
search as he would, the baffling mystery of the trail
seemed likely to remain forever unsolved. It was drawing toward
the day's close once more when the keen eyes of
the Heliumite discerned the tawny yellow of a sleek hide
moving among the boulders several hundred yards to his left.
Crouching quickly behind a large rock, Carthoris watched the thing
(19:36):
before him. It was a huge banth, one of those
savage Barsoomian lions that roamed the desolate hills of the
dying planet. The creature's nose was close to the ground.
It was evident that he was following the spoor of
meat by scent. As Carthoris watched him, a great hope
(19:57):
leaped into the man's heart. He possibly might lie the
solution to the mystery he had been endeavoring to solve.
This hungry carnivore, keen always for the flesh of man,
might even now be trailing the two whom Carthoris sought. Cautiously,
the youth crept out upon the trail of the man
(20:18):
eater along the foot of the perpendicular cliff. The creature moved,
sniffing at the invisible spoor, and now and then emitting
the low moan of the hunting banth. Carthoris had followed
the creature for but a few minutes when it disappeared,
as suddenly and mysteriously, as though dissolved into thin air.
(20:39):
The man leaped to his feet. Not again was he
to be cheated as the man had cheated him. He
sprang forward at a reckless pace, to the spot at
which he had last seen the great skulking brute. Before
him loomed the sheer cliff, its face unbroken by any
aperture into which the huge banth might have warmed its
(20:59):
great carcass. Beside him was a small flat boulder, not
larger than the deck of a ten man flier, nor
standing to a greater height than twice his own stature.
Perhaps the banth was in hiding behind this. The brute
might have discovered the man upon his trail, and even
now be lying in wait for his easy prey. Cautiously
(21:23):
with drawn long sword, Carthoris crept around the corner of
the rock. There was no banth there, but something which
surprised him infinitely more than with the presence of twenty
banths before him, yawned the mouth of a dark cave
leading downward into the ground. Through this the banth must
(21:45):
have disappeared. Was it his lair? Within its dark and
forbidding interior, might there not lurk not one but many
of the fearsome creatures. Carthoris did not know, nor with
the thought that had been spurring him onward upon the
trail of the creature uppermost in his mind, did he
(22:06):
much care for Into this gloomy cavern, he was sure
the band had trailed the green Man and his captive,
and into which he too would follow, content to give
his life in the service of the woman he loved.
Not an instant did he hesitate, Nor yet did he
advance rashly, but with ready sword and cautious steps, For
(22:30):
the way was dark. He stole on. As he advanced,
the obscurity became impenetrable darkness. End of Chapter four
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