All Story Magazine, December 1913 — page 154: what you’re looking at

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

864 tinue their abandoned pilgrimage to Dor, or return to the various lands of the outer world from whence they came. Here the trail of Dejah Thoris’s ab- ductors led along the mountains’ base, across steep and rugged ravines, by the side of appalling precipices, and some- times out into the valley, where we found fighting aplenty with the mem- bers of the various tribes that make up the population of this vale of hope- lessness. But through it all we came at last to where the way led up a narrow gorge that grew steeper and more impracti- cable at every step until before us loomed a mighty fortress buried be- neath the side of an overhanging cliff. Here was the secret hiding-place of Matai Shang, Father of Therns. Here, surrounded by a handful of the faith- ful, the hekkador of the ancient faith, who had once been served by millions of vassals and dependents, dispensed the spiritual word among the half dozen nations of Barsoom that. still clung tenaciously to their false and discredited religion. Darkness was just falling as we came in sight of the seemingly im- pregnable walls of this mountain stronghold, and lest we be seen I drew back with Woola behind a jutting granite promontory, into a clump of the hardy, purple scrub that thrives upon the barren sides of Otz. Here we lay until the quick transi-- tion from daylight to darkness had passed. Then I crept out to approach’ the fortress walls in search of a way within. Either through carelessness or over- confidence in the supposed inaccessi- bility of their hiding-place, the triple- barred gate stood ajar. Beyond were a handful of guards, laughing and talking over one of their incompre- hensible Barsoomian games. I saw that none of the guardsmen’ had been of the party that accom- panied Thurid and Matai Shang; and so, relying entirely upon my disguise, THE ALL-STORY MAGAZINE. T waiked boldly through the gateway and up to the thern guard. The men stopped their game and looked up at me, but there was no sur- prise upon their faces and no sign of suspicion. Similafly they looked at Woola, growling at my heel. “Kaor!* I said in true Martian greeting, and the warriors arose and saluted me. ‘I have but just found my way hither from the Golden Cliffs,” T continued, “ and seek audience with the hekkador, Matai Shang, Father of Therns. Where may he be found? ” “ Follow me,” said one of the guard, and, turning, led me across the outer courtyard toward a second buttressed wall. Why the apparent ease with which I seemingly deceived them did not. rouse my suspicions I know not, unless it was that my mind was still so full of that fleeting glimpse of my beloved princess that there was room in it for: naught else. Be that as it may, the fact is that I marched buoyantly be- hind my guide straight into the jaws of death. Afterward I learned that thern spies had been aware of my coming for hours before I reached the hidden fortress. The gate had been purposely left ajar to tempt me on. The guards had been schooled well in their part of the conspiracy; and I, more like a school- boy than a seasoned warrior, ran head- long into the trap. At the far side of the outer court a narrow door let into the angle made by one of the buttresses with the wall. Here my guide produced a key and opened the way within; then, stepping back. he motioned me to enter. ‘* Matai Shang is in the temple court beyond,” he said; and as Woola and I passed through the fellow closed the door quickly upon us. The nasty laugh that came to my ears through the heavy planking of the door after the lock clicked was my first intimation that all was not as it should be. comnicloooks.com