The Gods of Mars
 When we had reached a point some ten feet from the secret doorway I halted my companion, and cautioning him to remain absolutely motionless until I gave the prearranged signal I quickly turned my back to the door through which I could almost feel the burning and baleful eyes of our would be executioner. 

 Instantly my own eyes sought the mirror upon Tars Tarkas’ back and in another second I was closely watching the section of the wall which had been disgorging its savage terrors upon us. 

 I had not long to wait, for presently the golden surface commenced to move rapidly. Scarcely had it started than I gave the signal to Tars Tarkas, simultaneously springing for the receding half of the pivoting door. In like manner the Thark wheeled and leaped for the opening being made by the inswinging section. 

 A single bound carried me completely through into the adjoining room and brought me face to face with the fellow whose cruel face I had seen before. He was about my own height and well muscled and in every outward detail moulded precisely as are Earth men. 

 At his side hung a long-sword, a short-sword, a dagger, and one of the destructive radium revolvers that are common upon Mars. 

 The fact that I was armed only with a long-sword, and so according to the laws and ethics of battle everywhere upon Barsoom should only have been met with a similar or lesser weapon, seemed to have no effect upon the moral sense of my enemy, for he whipped out his revolver ere I scarce had touched the floor by his side, but an uppercut from my long-sword sent it flying from his grasp before he could discharge it. 

 Instantly he drew his long-sword, and thus evenly armed we set to in earnest for one of the closest battles I ever have fought. 

 The fellow was a marvellous swordsman and evidently in practice, while I had not gripped the hilt of a sword for ten long years before that morning. 

 But it did not take me long to fall easily into my fighting stride, so that in a few minutes the man began to realize that he had at last met his match. 

 His face became livid with rage as he found my guard impregnable, while blood flowed from a dozen minor wounds upon his face and body. 

 “Who are you, white man?” he hissed. “That you are no Barsoomian from the outer world is evident from your colour. And you are not of us.” 


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