All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 140: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

830 great green warrior; Xodar, the black dator, and I brought the light of truth to the outer world and stopped the mad rush of millions upon the voluntary pilgrimage to what they believed would end in a beautiful valley of peace and happiness and love. Even now the low islands which dotted the broad stream were choked with the skeletons of those who, through fear or a sudden awakening to the truth, had halted almost at the completion of their journey. In the awful stench of these fright- ful charnel isles haggard maniacs screamed and gibbered and _ fought among the torn remnants of their grisly feasts; while on those which contained but clean-picked bones they battled with one another, the weaker furnishing sustenance for the stronger ; or with clawlike hands clutched at the bodies that drifted down with the current. Thurid paid not the slightest atten- tion to the screaming things that either menaced or pleaded with him as the mood directed them—evidently he was familiar with the horrid sights that surrounded him. He continued up the river for perhaps a mile; and then, crossing over to the left bank, drew his craft up on a low ledge that lay almost on a level with the water. I dared not follow across the stream, for he most surely would have seen me. Instead@I stopped close to the opposite wall beneath an overhanging mass of rock that cast a dense shadow beneath it. Here I could watch Thurid without danger of discovery. The black was standing upon the ledge beside his boat, looking up the river, as though he were awaiting one whom he expected from that direction. As I lay there beneath the dark rocks I noticed that a strong current seemed to flow directly toward the center of the river, so that it was difficult to hold my craft in its position. I edged farther into the shadow that I might find a hold upon the bank; but, though I proceeded several yards, I touched THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. nothing; and then, finding that I would soon reach a point from where I could no longer see the black man, I was compelled to remain where I was, holding my position as best I could by paddling strongly against the current which flowed from beneath the rocky mass behind me. I could not imagine what might cause this strong lateral flow, for the main channel of the river was plainly visible to me from where I sat, and I could see the rippling junction of it and the mysterious current which had aroused my curiosity. While I was still speculating upon the phenomenon my attention was sud- denly riveted upon Thurid, who had raised both palms forward above his head in the universal salute of Martians, and a moment later his “Kaor!*’ the Barsoomian word of greeting, came in low but distinct tones. I turned my eyes up the river in the direction that his were bent, and*pres- ently there came within my limited range of vision a long boat, in which were six men. Five were at the pad- dles, while the sixth sat in the seat of honor at the bow. The white skins, the flowing yellow wigs which covered their bald pates, and the gorgeous diadems set in cir- clets of gold about their heads marked them as Holy Therns. As they drew up beside the ledge upon which Thurid awaited them, he in the bow of the boat arose to step ashore, and then I saw that it was none other than Matai Shang, Father of Therns. The evident cordiality with which the two men exchanged ereetings filled me with wonder, for the black and white men of Barsoom were heredi- tary enemies—not ever before had I known of two meeting other than in battle. Evidently the reverses that had re- cently overtaken both peoples had re- sulted in an alliance between these two individuals—at least against the com- comlicloooks.com