With one accord, chieftains and warriors, they turned and bolted for the doorway; a narrow doorway, where they jammed, fighting and screaming in an effort to escape.  They threw away their swords and clawed at one another to make a passage for escape; those behind climbed upon the shoulders of those in front; and some fell and were trampled upon; but at last they all got through, and, the swiftest first, they bolted across the two intervening chambers to the outer corridor beyond, nor did they halt their mad retreat before they stumbled, weak and trembling, into the banquet hall of O-Tar.  At sight of them the warriors who had remained with the jeddak leaped to their feet with drawn swords, thinking that their fellows were pursued by many enemies; but no one followed them into the room, and the three chieftains came and stood before O-Tar with bowed heads and trembling knees.

“Well?” demanded the jeddak.  “What ails you?  Speak!”

“O-Tar,” cried one of them when at last he could master his voice.  “When have we three failed you in battle or combat?  Have our swords been not always among the foremost in defense of your safety and your honor?”

“Have I denied this?” demanded O-Tar.

“Listen, then, O Jeddak, and judge us with leniency.  We followed the two slaves to the apartments of O-Mai the Cruel.  We entered the accursed chambers and still we did not falter.  We came at last to that horrid chamber no human eye had scanned before in fifty centuries and we looked upon the dead face of O-Mai lying as he has lain for all this time.  To the very death chamber of O-Mai the Cruel we came and yet we were ready to go farther; when suddenly there broke upon our horrified ears the moans and the shrieking that mark these haunted chambers and the hangings moved and rustled in the dead air.  O-Tar, it was more than human nerves could endure.  We turned and fled.  We threw away our swords and fought with one another to escape.  With sorrow, but without shame, I tell it, for there be no man in all Manator that would not have done the same.  If these slaves be Corphals they are safe among their fellow ghosts.  If they be not Corphals, then already are they dead in the chambers of O-Mai, and there may they rot for all of me, for I would not return to that accursed spot for the harness of a jeddak and the half of Barsoom for an empire.  I have spoken.”

O-Tar knitted his scowling brows.  “Are all my chieftains cowards and cravens?” he demanded presently in sneering tones.

From among those who had not been of the searching party a chieftain arose and turned a scowling face upon O-Tar.

“The jeddak knows,” he said, “that in the annals of Manator her jeddaks have ever been accounted the bravest of her warriors.  Where my jeddak leads I will follow, nor may any jeddak call me a coward or a craven unless I refuse to go where he dares to go.  I have spoken.”

After he had resumed his seat there was a painful silence, for all knew that the speaker had challenged the courage of O-Tar the Jeddak of Manator and all awaited the reply of their ruler.  In every mind was the same thought—­O-Tar must lead them at once to the chamber of O-Mai the Cruel, or accept forever the stigma of cowardice, and there could be no coward upon the throne of Manator.  That they all knew and that O-Tar knew, as well.