But John Carter did not know!  There was only one other to whom she might hope to look—­Turan the panthan; but where was he?  She had seen his sword in play and she knew that it had been wielded by a master hand, and who should know swordplay better than Tara of Helium, who had learned it well under the constant tutorage of John Carter himself.  Tricks she knew that discounted even far greater physical prowess than her own, and a method of attack that might have been at once the envy and despair of the cleverest of warriors.  And so it was that her thoughts turned to Turan the panthan, though not alone because of the protection he might afford her.  She had realized, since he had left her in search of food, that there had grown between them a certain comradeship that she now missed.  There had been that about him which seemed to have bridged the gulf between their stations in life.  With him she had failed to consider that he was a panthan or that she was a princess—­they had been comrades.  Suddenly she realized that she missed him for himself more than for his sword.  She turned toward O-Tar.

“Where is Turan, my warrior?” she demanded.

“You shall not lack for warriors,” replied the jeddak.  “One of your beauty will find plenty ready to fight for her.  Possibly it shall not be necessary to look farther than the jeddak of Manator.  You please me, woman.  What say you to such an honor?”

Through narrowed lids the Princess of Helium scrutinized the Jeddak of Manator, from feathered headdress to sandaled foot and back to feathered headdress.

“’Honor’!” she mimicked in tones of scorn.  “I please thee, do I?  Then know, swine, that thou pleaseth me not—­that the daughter of John Carter is not for such as thou!”

A sudden, tense silence fell upon the assembled chiefs.  Slowly the blood receded from the sinister face of O-Tar, Jeddak of Manator, leaving him a sickly purple in his wrath.  His eyes narrowed to two thin slits, his lips were compressed to a bloodless line of malevolence.  For a long moment there was no sound in the throne room of the palace at Manator.  Then the jeddak turned toward U-Dor.

“Take her away,” he said in a level voice that belied his appearance of rage.  “Take her away, and at the next games let the prisoners and the common warriors play at Jetan for her.”

“And this?” asked U-Dor, pointing at Ghek.

“To the pits until the next games,” replied O-Tar.

“So this is your vaunted justice!” cried Tara of Helium; “that two strangers who have not wronged you shall be sentenced without trial?  And one of them is a woman.  The swine of Manator are as just as they are brave.”

“Away with her!” shouted O-Tar, and at a sign from U-Dor the guards formed about the two prisoners and conducted them from the chamber.

Outside the palace, Ghek and Tara of Helium were separated.  The girl was led through long avenues toward the center of the city and finally into a low building, topped by lofty towers of massive construction.  Here she was turned over to a warrior who wore the insignia of a dwar, or captain.