“And you,” he asked, “what manner of thing are you?  From what country?  Why are you in Manator?”

“I am a kaldane,” replied Ghek; “the highest type of created creature upon the face of Barsoom; I am mind, you are matter.  I come from Bantoom.  I am here because we were lost and starving.”

“And you!” O-Tar turned suddenly on Tara.  “You, too, are a kaldane?”

“I am a princess of Helium,” replied the girl.  “I was a prisoner in Bantoom.  This kaldane and a warrior of my own race rescued me.  The warrior left us to search for food and water.  He has doubtless fallen into the hands of your people.  I ask you to free him and give us food and drink and let us go upon our way.  I am a granddaughter of a jeddak, the daughter of a jeddak of jeddaks, The Warlord of Barsoom.  I ask only the treatment that my people would accord you or yours.”

“Helium,” repeated O-Tar.  “I know naught of Helium, nor does the Jeddak of Helium rule Manator.  I, O-Tar, am Jeddak of Manator.  I alone rule.  I protect my own.  You have never seen a woman or a warrior of Manator captive in Helium!  Why should I protect the people of another jeddak?  It is his duty to protect them.  If he cannot, he is weak, and his people must fall into the hands of the strong.  I, O-Tar, am strong.  I will keep you.  That—­” he pointed at Ghek—­“can it fight?”

“It is brave,” replied Tara of Helium, “but it has not the skill at arms which my people possess.”

“There is none then to fight for you?” asked O-Tar.  “We are a just people,” he continued without waiting for a reply, “and had you one to fight for you he might win to freedom for himself and you as well.”

“But U-Dor assured me that no stranger ever had departed from Manator,” she answered.

O-Tar shrugged.  “That does not disprove the justice of the laws of Manator,” replied O-Tar, “but rather that the warriors of Manator are invincible.  Had there come one who could defeat our warriors that one had won to liberty.”

“And you fetch my warrior,” cried Tara haughtily, “you shall see such swordplay as doubtless the crumbling walls of your decaying city never have witnessed, and if there be no trick in your offer we are already as good as free.”

O-Tar smiled more broadly than before and U-Dor smiled, too, and the chiefs and warriors who looked on nudged one another and whispered, laughing.  And Tara of Helium knew then that there was trickery in their justice; but though her situation seemed hopeless she did not cease to hope, for was she not the daughter of John Carter, Warlord of Barsoom, whose famous challenge to Fate, “I still live!” remained the one irreducible defense against despair?  At thought of her noble sire the patrician chin of Tara of Helium rose a shade higher.  Ah! if he but knew where she was there were little to fear then.  The hosts of Helium would batter at the gates of Manator, the great green warriors of John Carter’s savage allies would swarm up from the dead sea bottoms lusting for pillage and for loot, the stately ships of her beloved navy would soar above the unprotected towers and minarets of the doomed city which only capitulation and heavy tribute could then save.