That morning there had been an early visitor at the palace of The Warlord.  It was Gahan, Jed of Gathol.  He had arrived shortly after the absence of Tara of Helium had been noted, and in the excitement he had remained unannounced until John Carter had happened upon him in the great reception corridor of the palace as The Warlord was hurrying out to arrange for the dispatch of ships in search of his daughter.

Gahan read the concern upon the face of The Warlord.  “Forgive me if I intrude, John Carter,” he said.  “I but came to ask the indulgence of another day since it would be fool-hardy to attempt to navigate a ship in such a storm.”

“Remain, Gahan, a welcome guest until you choose to leave us,” replied The Warlord; “but you must forgive any seeming inattention upon the part of Helium until my daughter is restored to us.”

“You daughter!  Restored!  What do you mean?” exclaimed the Gatholian.  “I do not understand.”

“She is gone, together with her light flier.  That is all we know.  We can only assume that she decided to fly before the morning meal and was caught in the clutches of the tempest.  You will pardon me, Gahan, if I leave you abruptly—­I am arranging to send ships in search of her;” but Gahan, Jed of Gathol, was already speeding in the direction of the palace gate.  There he leaped upon a waiting thoat and followed by two warriors in the metal of Gathol, he dashed through the avenues of Helium toward the palace that had been set aside for his entertainment.

CHAPTER III

THE HEADLESS HUMANS

Above the roof of the palace that housed the Jed of Gathol and his entourage, the cruiser Vanator tore at her stout moorings.  The groaning tackle bespoke the mad fury of the gale, while the worried faces of those members of the crew whose duties demanded their presence on the straining craft gave corroborative evidence of the gravity of the situation.  Only stout lashings prevented these men from being swept from the deck, while those upon the roof below were constantly compelled to cling to rails and stanchions to save themselves from being carried away by each new burst of meteoric fury.  Upon the prow of the Vanator was painted the device of Gathol, but no pennants were displayed in the upper works since the storm had carried away several in rapid succession, just as it seemed to the watching men that it must carry away the ship itself.  They could not believe that any tackle could withstand for long this Titanic force.  To each of the twelve lashings clung a brawny warrior with drawn short-sword.  Had but a single mooring given to the power of the tempest eleven short-swords would have cut the others; since, partially moored, the ship was doomed, while free in the tempest it stood at least some slight chance for life.

“By the blood of Issus, I believe they will hold!” screamed one warrior to another.