As Tara of Helium crept over the brow of the hill down toward the valley, her presence was hidden by the darkness of the night from the sight of any chance observer who might be loitering by a window in the nearby tower.  Cluros, the farther moon, was just rising above the horizon to commence his leisurely journey through the heavens.  Eight zodes later he would set—­a trifle over nineteen and a half Earth hours—­and during that time Thuria, his vivacious mate, would have circled the planet twice and be more than half way around on her third trip.  She had but just set.  It would be more than three and a half hours before she shot above the opposite horizon to hurtle, swift and low, across the face of the dying planet.  During this temporary absence of the mad moon Tara of Helium hoped to find both food and water, and gain again the safety of her flier’s deck.

She groped her way through the darkness, giving the tower and its enclosure as wide a berth as possible.  Sometimes she stumbled, for in the long shadows cast by the rising Cluros objects were grotesquely distorted though the light from the moon was still not sufficient to be of much assistance to her.  Nor, as a matter of fact, did she want light.  She could find the stream in the dark, by the simple expedient of going down hill until she walked into it and she had seen that bearing trees and many crops grew throughout the valley, so that she would pass food in plenty ere she reached the stream.  If the moon showed her the way more clearly and thus saved her from an occasional fall, he would, too, show her more clearly to the strange denizens of the towers, and that, of course, must not be.  Could she have waited until the following night conditions would have been better, since Cluros would not appear in the heavens at all and so, during Thuria’s absence, utter darkness would reign; but the pangs of thirst and the gnawing of hunger could be endured no longer with food and drink both in sight, and so she had decided to risk discovery rather than suffer longer.

Safely past the nearest tower, she moved as rapidly as she felt consistent with safety, choosing her way wherever possible so that she might take advantage of the shadows of the trees that grew at intervals and at the same time discover those which bore fruit.  In this latter she met with almost immediate success, for the very third tree beneath which she halted was heavy with ripe fruit.  Never, thought Tara of Helium, had aught so delicious impinged upon her palate, and yet it was naught else than the almost tasteless usa, which is considered to be palatable only after having been cooked and highly spiced.  It grows easily with little irrigation and the trees bear abundantly.  The fruit, which ranks high in food value, is one of the staple foods of the less well-to-do, and because of its cheapness and nutritive value forms one of the principal rations of both armies and navies upon Barsoom, a use which has won for it a Martian sobriquet which, freely translated into English, would be, The Fighting Potato.  The girl was wise enough to eat but sparingly, but she filled her pocket-pouch with the fruit before she continued upon her way.