But now the duel between Gahan and the Orange Panthan was on and the decision of the next move was no longer in other hands than theirs.  It was the first time that these Manatorians had seen Gahan of Gathol fight, but Tara of Helium knew that he was master of his sword.  Could he have seen the proud light in her eyes as he crossed blades with the wearer of the Orange, he might easily have wondered if they were the same eyes that had flashed fire and hatred at him that time he had covered her lips with mad kisses, in the pits of the palace of O-Tar.  As she watched him she could not but compare his swordplay with that of the greatest swordsman of two worlds—­her father, John Carter, of Virginia, a Prince of Helium, Warlord of Barsoom—­and she knew that the skill of the Black Chief suffered little by the comparison.

Short and to the point was the duel that decided possession of the Orange Chief’s fourth.  The spectators had settled themselves for an interesting engagement of at least average duration when they were brought almost standing by a brilliant flash of rapid swordplay that was over ere one could catch his breath.  They saw the Black Chief step quickly back, his point upon the ground, while his opponent, his sword slipping from his fingers, clutched his breast, sank to his knees and then lunged forward upon his face.

And then Gahan of Gathol turned his eyes directly upon U-Dor of Manator, three squares away.  Three squares is a Chief’s move—­three squares in any direction or combination of directions, only provided that he does not cross the same square twice in a given move.  The people saw and guessed Gahan’s intention.  They rose and roared forth their approval as he moved deliberately across the intervening squares toward the Orange Chief.

O-Tar, in the royal enclosure, sat frowning upon the scene.  O-Tar was angry.  He was angry with U-Dor for having entered this game for possession of a slave, for whom it had been his wish only slaves and criminals should strive.  He was angry with the warrior from Manataj for having so far out-generaled and out-fought the men from Manator.  He was angry with the populace because of their open hostility toward one who had basked in the sunshine of his favor for long years.  O-Tar the jeddak had not enjoyed the afternoon.  Those who surrounded him were equally glum—­they, too, scowled upon the field, the players, and the people.  Among them was a bent and wrinkled old man who gazed through weak and watery eyes upon the field and the players.

As Gahan entered his square, U-Dor leaped toward him with drawn sword with such fury as might have overborne a less skilled and powerful swordsman.  For a minute the fighting was fast and furious and by comparison reducing to insignificance all that had gone before.  Here indeed were two magnificent swordsmen, and here was to be a battle that bade fair to make up for whatever the people felt they had been defrauded of by the