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Roy Glashan's Library
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Chums, 22 Jan 1921, with first part of "The Lost PLanet"
TEDDY CRAIG, standing atop the hill that looked down upon Protton, the sleepy little old country town that was known for nothing but the fact that it held the great public school St. Christopher's, drew a hand across his eyes as he stared, blinkingly, at the towered school, touched by the early morning sun.
"All right," he gulped jerking up straight, as though defending himself against some unseen blow, "all right! They've turned me out—chucked the mud of their scorn at me, and wouldn't believe me when I swore I wasn't guilty! Just because I've been a wild 'un, though everyone knew I was harmless. All right!" he repeated. "Some day I'll show St. Kit's that I'm as good a man as the rest of 'em, and straight too!"
Craig turned aside, dropped below the summit, the weariness, that was more of soul than of body, which had marked him as he climbed the hill all gone now. It seemed that the very fact of having reached the hill-top had changed him. Half an hour before he had slipped out of St. Kit's via the window of a dormitory, having resolved not to wait to be carried off to the station—expelled for a crime that, wild as he was, reckless and dare-devilish, he had not committed. The Head, Dr. Mather, had had a valuable collection of silver relics stolen—and one of them had been found, a week after the affair, in Craig's study, slipped, quite evidently of set purpose, into a supposedly secure place. Craig had denied all knowledge of it—but the evidence was all against him. Dr. Mather had sternly denounced him before the whole school, and, saving that for the honour of the school he would call off the police, had formally pronounced expulsion—telling Craig that he left it to him to announce the verdict to his guardian. That had been last evening—and Craig seemed to have lived many years since that time. Throbbing through his brain were two thoughts: first, that he was branded a thief; and the second, that he would rather beg bread in the streets than go down to Devonshire and face his Uncle Joseph, his father's own brother, who, on the death of Craig senior, had been left the custody of Teddy, pending the time when he should come of age and inherit his father's fortune, which was not inconsiderable.
Now, as he went downhill, Teddy clenched his fists again, and muttered fiercely:
"I can't do it—I won't—it would break uncle's heart. He's the soul of honour himself. Was brought up at St. Kit's, and would believe, would feel compelled to believe, that the verdict is true. All right! Five pounds and my eighteen years are enough for me till I've made good on my own. Then I'll come back. It's London for me—and then, let the gods decide!"
Teddy felt bucked at his own determination; somehow, his foot taps sounded louder, his tread felt firmer. He might be out—chucked out—but he wasn't down. Not by a long chalk. Many a man had started in on life without five pounds: few had started with bigger hopes and stronger determination than he possessed just then, and he boarded the London train in what were really astonishing spirits for a youngster who had a cloud hanging over him.
He was alone in the carriage, and hunching himself up in the corner, settled down to read a previous day's paper that he found on the seat. It was a long journey to London—so long that he had consumed all the news and specials that the paper contained long before the heart of the land was reached. He did not want to sleep, he did not want to think—so he started in to read the advertisements. After a while he wandered down the "Personal" column, grinning as he read some of the effusions of the foolish—or the cunning: it was hard to know which was which. One few-lined personal did not, however, make him grin, even although it made him read it twice, thrice, and at last brought, a whistle to his lips.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, "I'm on this, you bet! Why not?"
Why, indeed, anyone reading it over his shoulder might have asked, for the advertisement was couched in terms not altogether calculated to infuse a boy—even eighteen at that, and just expelled from school—with desire.
"DANGER! Professor Appleton, London University, requires four men not afraid to take risks in the interest of science and civilization. No scientific training needed—only brute courage. No remuneration, probably no reward except death; unless it be the fame that the world gives to those who are not afraid to die for a Great Ideal. Apply in person to Professor Appleton, 26d Harley Street, W.C.1."
A startling enough advertisement, that! Who Professor Appleton was Teddy Craig had not the least idea, and did not care. All that he cared was that there was a hint of adventure, a suggestion of something unknown, in the advertisement, and that something within him had risen to it, as a heart leaps to the call of his mate.
The feeling grew more intense as the journey lengthened, and Teddy was at such a fever pitch by the time he arrived at King's Cross, that, although he knew Harley Street was only a short distance away, he hailed a taxi caring nothing for the fact that he ought to conserve every shilling of his five pounds.
He rang the bell at 26d, the door was opened by a wizened faced man whose eyes gleamed like diamonds out of his parchment mask that went by name of a face.
"Professor Appleton, please," Teddy said crisply.
"He ain't in," was the man's reply.
"When will he be in, then?" Teddy asked "It's most important and—"
"That's what they all said," the man told him with a throaty chuckle. "Important as—as death." He bent forward confidentially. "See here, young fellow—"
What it was that the old man would have said Teddy was not to know, for at that moment a taxi stopped at the kerb, a man stepped out, walked up the steps, and the servitor muttered:
"The governor!"
Teddy turned, swiftly, expectantly, and instead of the venerable, learned looking old man that he had anticipated, saw a youngish man, not more than thirty-five, upstanding and virile, immaculately dressed—as little like the youngster's conception of what a professor should be as it was possible to imagine.
Teddy stepped aside, and the man, with scarcely a look at him, passed through the doorway.
"This young gen'man wants to see you, sir," the servitor said.
"Show him into the library," was the reply, without even a look back at Teddy, who, for some unaccountable reason, was both amused and annoyed at the nonchalance of the Professor, who strode down the hall and disappeared behind the door at the far end.
"Come in, young sir," the servant said, and Teddy stepped inside, was ushered into a comfortable room, and told to take a seat.
"'Member what I told you," said the man, with another chuckle, and went out.
"Well, I'm blowed!" said Teddy to himself. "He's a rum sort. Here I thought I was coming to a tremendous adventure, and dropped into a comic opera. Why the Professor has that old fellow for a servant or the old man has the Professor for a boss goodness knows. They don't belong, anyway! How long am I going to be kept here, I wonder?"
He was looking around the room as he ruminated, and, boy-like, could not resist the temptation to get up and walk over to one of the long rows of books. There seemed to be books on every conceivable subject, but the fact that impressed Teddy most was that science predominated, and of science astronomy—and one case was filled with nothing but books dealing with Mars. There seemed to be books on that subject in every foreign language—and in a flash there came to Teddy the remembrance of Professor Appleton's name, which when he first read it in the train, had conveyed nothing to him.
"By Jove," he said in an audible whisper. "He must be the Johnny who, so the papers said, talked like a Yankee stunt-merchant about making the trip to Mars! I wonder—"
"What?" came the quiet word from behind him, and swinging round, Teddy saw the Professor standing in the room, with a slight smile wreathing about his lips. "What is it you wonder Mr.—Dr—"
"Craig's my name, sir, Teddy Craig," the youngster said immediately. "Your man said you were Professor Appleton—therefore you're the man who put that ad in the paper yesterday. That's why I've come to see you, and—"
"You wonder whether it by any chance has anything to do with Mars, eh?" was the question. "Sorry I overheard you thinking, but I wasn't really eavesdropping, you know."
"It's your own house, sir," Teddy said, with a slight laugh, somehow feeling altogether at home in the presence of this young Professor. "And—well, you're right, that is just what I was wondering. It is for you to inform me if I am right. I should like to have details of the matter on which you advertised."
"Sit down, man, sit down. That's right." Appleton seated himself as Teddy took a chair. "You don't smoke, and you don't drink—I can see that. Which is all to the good. Got any parents to leave—any sisters or brothers and—Dr—anybody who'd worry very greatly about you? Professor Appleton was plunging into a series of questions without any explanation before Teddy had scarcely crossed his legs.
"My mother and father are dead," Teddy said simply. "I've got no brothers or sisters—I've an uncle who's my guardian who—"
"Is by way of being unsympathetic to the spirit of youth?" Appleton suggested, but Teddy shook his head.
"Far from that, sir," he said. "Uncle Joseph is a good sport—he likes me. Sometimes I think that it's because he's been so jolly decent that I've been so—well, wild, you know. Better hear my yarn first, sir, before we go any farther," and he went on to tell of the sequence of events that had ended in his coming to London. "That's the story, sir, and I leave it for you to believe or not, as you think fit. At any rate, I know I'm speaking the truth, and some day I'll show the fellows at—at the school!"
"I believe you, Craig," murmured the Professor. "Your eyes wouldn't let you tell a lie. I was just wondering whether—well—let's get ahead with things. You've had your say. I want mine. But first I want a solemn oath from you that whether we come to a clinch or not you'll say not a word to a soul."
"My word—my word of honour that what happens between us goes no farther, sir," Teddy said seriously, and almost impulsively, as a schoolboy will do, he thrust out a hand, which Appleton grasped.
"That's that," the Professor said. "Now listen. You've heard of me before—I know that from what you were saying when I came into the room. And you're right when you conjectured that I was advertising with a view to Mars. Those foolish fellows who write the stuff that gets into the papers not long ago had some wonderful things to say about what I thought getting into touch with Mars. My improved wireless which they said would send messages to Mars in no time; my statement—as they called it—that I was going to fly to Mars, all rubbish that, by the way, though I did once go into the question of the possibility of reaching the planet by airship. Proved that it was impossible, though, which was a pity, since it would have been very comfortable travelling."
Appleton was speaking almost casually of these stupendous things, and somehow Teddy did not feel, as he might have done had any other man said them, that he was in the presence of a man whose mind was deranged. There was something very convincing, very matter of fact, about the Professor. "And when I gave my lecture before the Royal Institution," he went on, "regarding the problem of reaching Mars—I suggested that it was possible and hinted that I had indeed solved the problem, but was handicapped for want of money. I received, within twenty-four hours, offers of sufficient capital to run a European War! And now, young Craig, I've got all my plans laid, I'm going to conquer Space—I'm going to annihilate Space—I'm going to bring to pass all the dreams of all the scientists. I'm going to Mars, and you, if you like, can go with me. What about it!"
Suddenly, Appleton had passed from the nonchalant Professor into the young enthusiast, and Teddy, gripping the arm of his chair, was almost numbed with excitement.
"You mean that, sir?" he managed to gasp out. "But how—it isn't possible!"
Appleton laughed.
"Ever monkey about at stinks at school?" he asked. "Ever used the telephone—ever seen an aeroplane? And you can then say that anything's impossible? I tell you. Craig, my son, that there's nothing impossible to science absolutely nothing! The only limit is our knowledge. When the first man shoved his bark boat out on to a river, he had solved the problem of navigation. When the first man flew a kite he had solved the problem of flight. And when the yellow fellow in China—that's where they say it originated—let off a squib full of gunpowder he had solved the problem of getting to Mars. It's all a matter of degree. And I'm going to Mars in a squib!"
Teddy laughed now. It all sounded so foolish. And for the first time he felt that after all Appleton was a man made mad by his own knowledge.
"But I say, sir," he exclaimed, "that's a bit of a tall order!"
"Of course, when I said a squib I didn't mean anything quite so primitive," Appleton told him. "The fact is. I've invented a new kind of rocket, which—but there, I can't tell you about it now. The point is, young Craig, are you willing to go with me to Mars—No, don't answer at once! Think about it. It's worth thinking over, and heaven knows it is a big enough thing to ask anyone to undertake. How long will you want to consider the matter? Can't give you too long, because I've got everything ready; the rocket is made. I've worked out all my calculations, and within a week from now I'm starting. So you see—"
"Look here, sir." Teddy said, flushed of face now, and trembling somewhat. "Look here, you'll probably think I'm as mad as I thought you were a few minutes ago, but I'm going to say 'Yes,' and that now. If you think I'm the man for the job, I'm your man!"
"Well spoken, and as I like it," said Appleton, reaching out a hand and gripping Teddy's again. "Now come along into my laboratory, and see whether you're a fellow who can pass the tests that I naturally have to put. If you do, and you're still of the same mind, there's an end of it—or a beginning, shall we say? You'll go with me!"
He got up and Teddy followed him out of the room, down the long passage, into what was probably one of the finest private laboratories in England. Weird and wonderful were the things there, giant retorts, amazing electric apparatus; a great telescope, and, what attracted Teddy's attention chiefly, a micro-telescope and a thing that looked like a submarine—a model, indeed, as he thought, of a submarine. It was about five feet long, and had this that marked it out as different from any other submarine, namely, windows on both sides and at bow and stern.
The Professor put him through a hundred tests so it seemed. He tested his heart, and his nerves—his blood pressure, and his oxygen requirements. And so on until the Professor said:
"You're quite normal, and you have kept yourself fit, Craig You can make the fourth of those who're going with me."
"I'm on, sir," the boy said, soberly.
"Very well, Craig," Appleton said. "By the way, where are you sleeping to-night?"
"An hotel, I suppose," said Teddy.
"Well, look here, I propose you stay with me—until we're ready to go."
"That's decent of you, sir," the youngster exclaimed.
"Not at all—you're my employee," Appleton said, "even although I'm not paying you! I'm glad you didn't say anything about payment, by the way. I've turned down fifty men because the first thing they asked was 'How much?' Here's the idea I've worked on. I did not want any man who had encumbrances. I wanted men who would go for the sake of the great Game, not just for monetary gain. Therefore, I have offered—nothing—except the chance to make history and add to the sum of human knowledge, just that chance and the risk of going out in a grand endeavour. That's big enough for me and—"
"For me, too, sir," said Teddy quietly.
"That's why I've chosen you," was the man's reply. "You don't want money—if you did I'd pay you!"
"I'm only a kid yet, sir," said Teddy. "So I've not run up debts, or gone bankrupt. As a matter of fact, I'm a rich fellow, or shall be when I'm twenty-one. That is if—if—You know what I mean!" He grinned a bit.
"Yes, I know what you mean," Appleton said. "You mean if you ever come back to this old earth? That's in the hands of the God who made us. Science, Craig, is but the study of God. Why do I want to journey to Mars? Just to make a sensation for the newspapers? No! I want to go to Mars because I am burned with a desire to know more about the infinite wonder of God!"
It was another side to his character that this amazing man was revealing, and Teddy felt a gulp in his throat as he listened to the reverent, almost passionate, voice of the Professor. He could not trust himself to speak, all he could do was to follow Appleton when the latter said:
"But come, Craig, you must he hungry!"
TEDDY CRAIG did not sleep much that night, and when he did he dreamed. Weird dreams and haunting, and always in them the figure of Appleton. And during the many waking hours, Craig was also thinking about Appleton, scientist, enthusiast, philosopher, mystic and, withal, a man. It was the humanity of him, as Teddy told himself, that had impressed the youngster more than anything, the simple humanity that counted for more than his cleverness, his genius, or his ambitions. Teddy dropped off to sleep at last with the very comforting feeling that he had found a man whom he was pleased to know, a man whom he would grow to love.
Morning brought with it a hardly contained eagerness on the part of Teddy, but as far as Appleton was concerned he was his own nonchalant self.
"Shall have to leave you alone to-day," he told the youngster over breakfast. "Have got to interview the other applicants who went off yesterday to think things over—interview them and test them, you know. When it's all fixed up I'll introduce the lot of you; then we'll be getting away down to where the—Dr—transport, shall we call it? is. There's plenty for us to do within the next few days."
"I didn't like to ask you yesterday, sir," said Teddy, "but was that submarine-looking thing in the lab the transport, as you call it? I mean was that a model of it?"
"It was, Craig," Appleton told him. "I've got another model too, but that's quite a tiny one, no more than a foot long and—and here, we've got an hour before anyone is due to call. Let's go and see it, eh?"
"Rather!" cried Teddy, springing to his feet.
"Here, I say, youngster, finish your marmalade!" Appleton said.
"Lost my appetite at once, sir." Teddy told him, with a grin, but sat down and finished the meal nevertheless. After which Appleton took him out into the garden—having previously gone up to the laboratory alone. In the garden Teddy found a tall building, concrete built, into which Appleton took him, locking the door after him. Teddy looked with amazement at what was inside, when the electric light was switched on. The building held a great glass case that seemed to occupy the whole space, while outside the case were a number of levers and switches, the purpose of which he naturally did not know.
"What is it?" he gasped.
"Watch and see!" was the reply.
Appleton took something from his pocket and Teddy saw that it was a small copy of the model he had seen in the laboratory. Breathlessly he watched the Professor open one end of it and adjust something within. After that he opened a small glass door that allowed him to place the model inside the case. Then the door was closed, Appleton manipulated a lever, all this being done in silence, and then he said:
"That case is now filled with very heavy gas to cause a good deal of resistance to the Marsobus—I've been stumped for a name, youngster, and that's what I've called it! pretty, I know, but it's true, anyway! Well, now watch; she is timed to start in ten seconds!"
To say that Teddy watched is to put it very modestly. He simply gloated as he looked with round eyes at the tiny Marsobus within the glass case, wondering what was going to happen in ten seconds. Suddenly it happened. This model moved slightly, not along the floor of the case, but upward. She tilted up her nose and rose from the floor—rose higher and higher, gathering speed; then Teddy saw her spurt upward at a higher speed. Again and yet again she did this. Teddy wondered what would happen when she struck the top of the case which, as he could see, was not, apparently, made of glass but of some dark substance.
"She'll smash to pieces!" Teddy cried, impulsively clutching Appleton's arm.
Appleton laughed.
"Watch!" was all he said, and Teddy watched tensely. "See!" the Professor said a second or two later, and Teddy saw an amazing thing happen. Instead of striking the top the Marsobus suddenly spread out a pair of tiny wings, or planes, and hovered in space!
"It would be foolish," came Appleton's casual voice, "to go to Mars in something that smashed to pieces when it arrived? Or drilled its way in, eh?"
"Good heavens!" breathed Teddy. "It's—it's—wonderful! And save us, she's coming back!"
The tiny Marsobus, turning, closed her wings, and was indeed making the return trip. She settled down before the astonished eyes of the boy. He laughed jerkily, almost hysterically.
"How's it done?" he asked, quietly, tensely.
"She's just a combination of rocket, submarine and aeroplane!" the Professor said simply. "Inside that Marsobus model, just as there are inside the real thing, are certain chemicals that explode at stated times, and generate power to drive the very powerful engines with which she is fitted. It is obvious that it would be impossible to carry ordinary fuel sufficient to do such a tremendous journey as it is to Mars! Therefore, the power problem had to be solved first. I have solved it by the discovery of certain chemicals. They take up but very little space, weigh very little, and yet are of great concentrated power."
"My hat!" breathed Teddy, drawing a hand across his forehead. "My hat! And—it—will work with—the big one as it did with this? You're sure?"
"Craig," said Appleton seriously. "I've tested this invention in every conceivable way except that of launching the full-size Marsobus. That one you saw in the laboratory has been fifty miles up and has come back again, safely and without damage. Everything has been proportionately worked out, and the altitude register showed that she went exactly fifty miles as I had primed her to do, before she opened her wings, turned, and started on the return journey. Of course, there's been a certain amount of adaptation necessary to effect the return journey without human agency in her; but the real thing will be able to hover, and remain where I want her to as long as necessary, and then to land where I want her to land. You're still of the same mind?" he suddenly switched off.
The grip of Craig's hand on his arm gave him the boy's answer, and Appleton smiled.
"Good for you, Craig," he said quietly. "Sorry I can't tell you anything more now. You'll discover everything in due course—and I wouldn't like to spoil the real thing for you by telling you too much beforehand!"
"Spoil it!" breathed Teddy. "Spoil it! Good heavens! If you told me everything, there'd be enough to keep me wondering for the rest of my life!"
"Well, wonder on, my boy—but wonder with a still tongue in your head for the next few days! Now let's get back to the house. I've got work to do!"
Teddy saw no more of the Professor until the evening, and then it was at dinner. Craig was tired out from a boyish tour of London, in which he had spent nearly all his five pounds and enjoyed himself immensely, the uppermost thought to his mind being that as Fate had willed it so, he must make the best of time while it held, seeing that he was leaving all familiar things for something vast and unknown.
It was a weird dulling thing to think of at all. There was only one thing to which Teddy could compare it, and that was when be first left home to go to school. That was like going to a new world, but this thing that he had pledged himself to do—it was something more tremendous than that. He could not really focus his mind; yet on the other hand everything seemed to have taken on a new significance. He looked up at the cold, austere column in Trafalgar Square; he had seen it dozens of times before, but it had meant nothing to him. Now it meant much—honour, glory, the tradition of his own race. Queer how he should think of that for no other reason than that he was going away from it all, when, despite all the school teaching, all the reading, that emotionless stone had stood for nothing.
From which will be seen that Teddy's mind was mazed and muddled. He was still muddled when he sat down to dinner, facing Appleton in the well-appointed dining-room, that evening. The Professor noticed his distraction and spoke of it. Teddy, needing no other urging, launched forth into a boyish exposition of his mental state, to which Appleton listened quietly until he had finished.
"You're right, my boy," he said at last. "We humans have grown too self-centred. Science is the great chastener of human pride—but, why should we worry about anything of the kind? You've had a good day?" So have I. I've found the three other men who're coming with us. One is an engineer, another an ex-airman, and the third—well, he's everything. Been a seaman down in the South Seas; went within a hundred or so miles of the South Pole, has globe trotted nearly all over the world, and is, moreover, a man of culture and education. He can give me points, too, on mineralogy. In fact, he's going to be a most useful member of the party. To-morrow we go down to Dartmoor, where the Marsobus is housed.
"I'm getting to bed early to-night; we've got a very early morning train to catch. I'll tell my man to call you. Good night."
Utterly tired, Teddy did not lie awake that night, and it seemed to him he had not slept many minutes before he was roused. Within an hour of getting up, he and Appleton were sitting in the railway carriage which Appleton had engaged, waiting for the three other men who had been accepted by the Professor.
They came, one by one, and were introduced. First came Mackenzie, the engineer. A tall upstanding man he was, almost as broad as long, and with a face that betokened strength of character equal to his physique.
"Pleased to meet ye, young sir," he said to Teddy, and his big hand closed tightly upon the boy's. "Craig, eh? A good Scots name, though 'twould seem ye have lived long among the Sassenachs forby that ye ha' lost the music o' the north in your voice."
"Scotch, I am," said Teddy, laughing, "but I'm ashamed to say, I've never been to Scotland."
"The finest little country on God's earrth," said Mackenzie. "Why—" He broke off as another man entered the carriage, and was introduced immediately as Robert Ashby, one-time seaman, always a globe-trotter.
He looked it, every inch of him. Sun-tanned to a coffee brown, strong-looking and healthy, with steel grey eyes that for all their customary coldness were the eyes of a man who, as Teddy knew instantly, was good-hearted and generous, and whose mouth held lines that spoke of a sense of humour.
"Appleton knows men when he sees 'em," was the inward comment the boy made; a conviction in which he was confirmed when, a few moments later, the third man turned up.
"Ah, good morning, sir," the new-comer said as he sprang in, just as the train was moving out of the station along the platform. "Almost did it in!"
"Glad you got here, anyway, Horsman," Appleton said. "These are our companions," and he introduced them all. Teddy took to Horsman immediately. He knew that this must be the ex-airman of whom Appleton had spoken. Fresh-faced, strong-chinned, well set up, and every inch of him a soldier, Horsman was one of those fellows for whom any boy might be forgiven being a worshipper.
The journey passed quickly, helped by the flow of conversation, and at last the five men alighted from the train at a wayside halt in Dartmoor. A trap was engaged, and presently they were bowling across the moors, to arrive at a spot enclosed by tall wooden fencing. The driver was dismissed, and the five men stood before the one door in the enclosure. Appleton rang a bell, and a voice beyond demanded to know who was there.
"Appleton," was the reply, and instantly the door swung open, to admit the little party. "Morning, Squires," the Professor said to the man who admitted them and who was beaming at the sight of the scientist. "Everything all right?"
"Everything," was the reply. "Just the same as usual, you know; dozens of folk peeping and prying and the talk in the villages just as usual! It's surprising the kind of things they've imagined, these country people!"
"None of them been out since I left?" Appleton queried anxiously.
"Of course not, Appleton," was the reply. "They're paid too well to want to leave and so break their bargain. And everything's ready to start when you're ready."
"I'm ready to start now," said the Professor, "but a week to-day is the appointed time, and we can't start before. By the way, these are—" and indicating his companion's, he introduced them as his fellow adventurers.
"Mr. Squires is a brother scientist, who has been in charge of things down here for me," he explained as they walked towards a great building. Coming to it, the door was opened and they all went inside, to see about two dozen men at work on what Teddy, at any rate, knew was the finished Marsobus, of which he had seen a model the day before.
No man spoke a word. They all stood and gazed upon the strange looking craft that was to take them on such a perilous adventure; and, except for the occasional clink of steel on steel, or the movement of the workmen, there was silence, until Appleton, turning said:
"We'll go and get some food!"
Two hours later they were back in the building, with intent to learn what they could about the Marsobus, Appleton having explained that he had engaged them with a few days to spare for this purpose.
"Mackenzie," he said, when they were standing beside the Marsobus, "you know all about motors? Well, these in this Marsobus are very simple affairs, but extremely powerful. You'd better have a look over them right away. Come in."
He opened a narrow slit of a door and led the way inside. A switch was touched, and the interior was flooded with electric light. Teddy for one stood absolutely amazed at what he saw. They were in the stern of the Marsobus and the chamber in which they stood contained two pairs of motors, some big cylinders and a good many other pieces of mechanism: it was for all the world like the engine-room of an electrically driven ship. The chamber was constructed so that although the Marsobus was slanting at a very big angle, one could walk upright in it.
"There's an engine-room like this at either end," said Appleton. "Each set of motors is sufficient to drive the Marsobus, but it was a case of providing for emergencies. Here's a plan, Mackenzie. Set the motors going and see how they work."
Mackenzie, without a word, took the plan, scrutinized it carefully and after a while reached over to a switch; immediately the motors began to purr, and everyone except Appleton and Squires showed their amazement at the absence of noise.
"They do be verra quiet," commented Mackenzie admiringly, and began to move from point to point, taking notes as he examined every movement and noted every peculiarity.
"Yes, they're pretty good," said Appleton. "They're running now on electricity supplied from outside, but—cut them off, Mackenzie!" The engineer obeyed, and then Appleton moved across the chamber and disconnected a wire. From each of his lower waistcoat pockets he took out a tiny phial.
Into two funnel-like arrangements on top of one of the sets of motors he shook something from each of the phials. He did the same with the other set, and then, closing the funnels, and securing them with a lock-nut, he pulled over a lever, the breathless watchers heard a slight crack as of a pistol-shot, and instantly one of the motors begun to purr as it had done before.
"By hookey, sir!" exclaimed Mackenzie, "What's happened? What have you put in and—"
"That's the fuel to drive them," was the reply. "I've only put in a grain of each of those chemicals and yet there's enough motive power to drive the motors for five thousand miles!"
Mackenzie drew a hand across his forehead. Horsman leaned forward excitedly. Robert Ashby slapped his thigh. Teddy gaped, but Squires and Appleton smiled amusedly.
"You'll understand, at any rate, Horsman." Appleton said, "how essential it was to reduce weight, and to do that we had to find the right fuel. I think we've done it!"
"I should just think so, sir," the airman gasped.
"Ah, she's stopped," Appleton said at that moment, and the second motor started at once. "No, nothing's gone wrong; only the fuel is consumed, the two being arranged to switch on automatically, each as the other cuts out."
"And you mean to say, sir," exclaimed Teddy, "that we should have gone five thousand miles in that time! Why, good heavens, it's incredible and—"
"I told you those motors were very powerful, didn't I?" Appleton said, "I rather pride myself on their being the finest motors ever yet produced. Are you satisfied with them, Mackenzie?"
The engineer simply looked with dumb eyes at the Professor, unable to speak for a while.
"Eh, mon, but it's wonderrrful!" he rolled at last. "Forby there be other murracles aboard this boat, eh?"
"Oh, one or two," was the reply. "Come along," and Appleton led the way through a steel door into another chamber. This was fitted up in much the same way as a ship's stateroom, with bunks at the sides, and a clamped down table and chairs on the floor. "This is where we'll live while we're going," the man said calmly. "We shall exist mostly on tinned foods, though the electric cooker we've got will provide us with hot drink and so forth. Tinned stuff packs better, and after all, you can cook it, eh, Horsman?"
"We used to out in France," was the airman's reply. "Lordy, what an aeroplane this would make!"
"It is one after a fashion," said Appleton, and he explained what Teddy had seen the tiny model do. "What is that?" he echoed, as Teddy pointed to a cut off section of the "stateroom," and asked the question. "Oh, that's the wireless cabin. You see, I'm going to send bulletins down here, while we're traveling, to my friend Squires. We're going out, as you all know, as scientific explorers, and one of my objects is to establish communication between the earth and Mars. That wireless apparatus in there is one of the two most powerful sets in the world; Mr Squires here has the other set, and they're tuned to each other. All the stuff that has been written about wireless messages from Mars is rubbish, it only needs thinking about seriously to come to that conclusion, and I'm not going to explain the reasons why. But when we get to Mars it will be a different thing; it will mean that there are in Mars people speaking just the same tongue as people on the earth, having the same principles of wireless and so forth; and these things are necessary before intelligent communication can be set up. One thing I am certain of, and that is that my apparatus is efficient for the distance—and the first wireless message from Mars, if there ever is one, will be sent by that instrument. But let's go farther along! There are other things."
Dully almost, numbed with amazement, the men followed him into yet another chamber; and simply gaped at what they saw. For all manner of scientific instruments were resting on shelves, held down by steel clamps—astronomical instruments, surveying apparatus, an electric motor and many other things.
"We go to Mars not simply as explorers," Appleton said quietly, "but as carriers of our civilization; hence the reason for taking these things. We want the Martians, if Martians there be, to know what manner of people we on the earth are and—"
"Ha' ye got the guid old Book wi' ye, sir?" Mackenzie asked solemnly.
"Even so," was the reply. "Beyond there," he broke off suddenly, "is the second engine-room, similar in every way to the one in the stern. Here," he drew aside some curtains, "are windows, through which we shall be able to see. There are windows also in bow and stern. By the way. I omitted to say that those cylinders in the engine-rooms are containers of oxygen, under enormous pressure. We shall want that in here and we shall want it in Mars as well, since, as you most probably know, the air there is much rarer than on the earth, and we should, to any the least, be very short-winded! Therefore, I have designed a special mask for our use when we arrive; it is used in conjunction with a box to fit on the shoulders, much the same as the modern diver is equipped. And now, friends, the next few days will be taken up with your all getting thoroughly acquainted with the ways of the Marsobus. We start next Tuesday night!"
THE days that followed were crowded with scarcely contained wonder as new marvels were discovered about the Marsobus. If either of the four who had been engaged by Appleton had had any qualms about the venture, they lost them as these revelations were unfolded to them, and by the time that Tuesday evening arrived, everyone was eager to be off. Teddy, especially, felt as a schoolboy feels as he boards the train that is to take him to the seaside for the first time in his life.
The workmen had gone. Squires alone remained to say good-bye, and the parting between him and Appleton was affecting, even although both men smiled and spoke confidently.
"You're sure everything's all right, Appleton, old chap?" Squires asked, with a trace of anxiety in his voice.
"I tested everything myself during the day," was the reply, "You can shift the roof now!"
Squires pulled a lever and the roof of the great building slid away as a theatre roof moves for ventilation purposes. There followed a general hand shaking, then the adventurers entered the Marsobus. Appleton being the last. Once inside, he shut fast the slit of a door, and signed to Mackenzie who had taken up his stand by the motors. The engineer pulled the lever that controlled the admixture of the chemical fuel, the motors began to purr, the Marsobus trembled slightly, and the men inside heard a tremendous droning which they knew to be caused by one of the two great propellers—an auxiliary being fitted in ease of accidents, and arranged so that it should work automatically in case of failure of the other. Followed a scraping as the Marsobus drew up the steep incline on which she had been resting; then the scraping was over, and Teddy, standing at the window in the stern, saw the lights in the great building receding. It seemed to him that he saw them for but one moment, and then they were lost sight of. He gripped the rail by the window, a flood of emotions surged through him; a wave of foreboding, followed almost immediately by a feeling of exultation as he heard Appleton's voice saying:
"My friends—we're off! Our journey has begun!"
The tension broke at that, and every man of them turned and faced their leader, whose face was flushed, but who, despite what must have been his pride in achievement, was still his nonchalant self.
"May the guid God luik after us!" came a pious prayer from Mackenzie, and a murmur of "Amens" went round the engine-room.
"There is nothing for any of you to do, except Mackenzie—unless be wants you to help him at all," said Appleton quietly. "Don't forget, Mackenzie, the moment the motor stops and its opposite number starts automatically, you will replenish it with fuel, so that it is ready to take up the work. Don't spare oil anywhere. Craig, come along with me to the wireless cabin. Horsman, and you, Ashby, potter around and please yourselves!"
"I'm staying here, sir," said Horsman, "I want to watch the stars go by! Do you know, sir, it's the rummiest thing out to be flying without feeling the rush of the wind in your face. But it's good—good for the soul! It's a wonderful world we live in!"
"Wonderful indeed!" said Appleton, as he moved away with Teddy at his heels. The Professor went into the cabin, and at once jotted down something in his diary.
"The exact time of starting, Craig," he said. "And now to wireless down to Squires!"
He adjusted the earpieces as he sat at the table, and for the next few minutes was silent, as he worked the mechanism of what he had called the most powerful wireless installation in the world. Presently he looked up.
"I got him," he said. "There's a terrible to do on the earth. That propeller of ours was too noisy—it awoke half Dartmoor. I think, and the whole of Britain is already, at this time of night, too, alive with the news of some tremendous airship that was flying over the country and has gone as quickly as it came. I've told Squires that he can now send round word of what is happening, and I bet that by the morning there'll be many strange things said and written—chiefly that Squires is a liar! Afraid it's going to be a bit monotonous on the journey, Craig!" he switched off, as was customary with him.
"It isn't up to the present," said Craig. "But then we haven't been any length of time yet!"
"No, but we've covered many thousands of miles!" said Appleton. "And if everything goes as smoothly as it is now, we'll not have any cause for anxiety. That's why I mean it will be monotonous. Still, we've got a good library aboard and I dare say, what with the books, and the gramophone and an occasional game of chess—play chess? good—we'll while away the time all right!"
Appleton was a little too confident and although there is no intention here to tell the complete story of that journey to Mars, the purpose being to recount, from Appleton's own account, the story of the sojourn on the planet, one or two of the several things that served to break the "monotony" must be told.
There was, for instance, the moment when it seemed that the end had come. That was when the Marsobus, having got far beyond the sphere where the gravitation of the earth had any attraction and Mars itself was acting as a pull, there was seen whirling through space a mighty glowing orb. Instantly Appleton, without a word to his companion, sprang to where a map of the heavens hung, and examined it very carefully. He turned presently and said, in a low voice:
"Men, I ought to let you know that there's danger ahead of us. That ball of light is not on the map. It is a stranger to me, and I've studied astronomy for years. It must be an undiscovered comet, and as far as I can judge we shall drive straight into it! I'm sorry that I—"
"Don't!" exclaimed Horsman, springing to his feet and letting the gramophone scratch unheeded at the end of the record. "Don't! We came of our own free will. And we've only got to die—once!"
"Hear, hear," came a low murmur from the rest, as they crowded at the window in the bows, and watched the long-tailed comet sweeping through space. It seemed it must cut right across their path.
"We—can't steer the bus," come Appleton's voice! "I—worked—out the—line—of—direction—and there's no—changing it."
He was looking through a telescope as he spoke, adjusting it to keep the comet, within the field, and quickly putting down certain marks on the paper beside him. For a moment or so he took his eye from the telescope and was busy, apparently, working some problem maths. Then once more he got back to the instrument, only again to dash off a maze of figures, and at last, to look round, his face pale and haggard, and to say:
"Thank God—we shall miss it, after all, by a thousand miles!"
And then, the ball of light suddenly seemed to become an iridescent flood, blinding to the eyes that watched. Thousands of miles away it had been . . . then—then, to the watchers it appeared to be but as many feet—for the Marsobus was bathed in its great effulgence. The men inside closed their eyes involuntarily, expecting they know not what. Then they opened them again, wonderingly, unbelievingly, and knew on the instant that they had passed the menace.
It took a very long time for the adventurers to recover from the shock of those tense hours, and it was lucky indeed for them that during that time nothing untoward happened. It was a long while afterwards when their nerves were steadied by a monotony that, would, in other circumstances, have driven them crazy, that another incident happened fit to awe them. Of a sudden the working motor stopped, and the companion to it did not act as it was supposed to do; with the result that the electric light failed.
"Mackenzie!" Appleton roared. "Where are you," and he himself made a dart through the door, in the direction of the bow motors.
"Here, sir!" called out Mackenzie—and scarcely had his voice died away than the lights went on again, and the anxious men heard the soft purr of a motor. They crowded into the auxiliary engine-room, and there saw Mackenzie, sweat standing in beads upon his forehead, leaning on the wall for support.
"Oh, good man, good man!" breathed Appleton. "You remembered!"
"Ay, sir," said Mackenzie feebly. "I happened to be here when the lights went out an' I did guess what 'twere happening. So I turrrned these motors on and switched over."
"Listen men," said Appleton, as calmly an he could, but he too was like a man with the ague. "There is no need for us to get alarmed over anything like that happening. From now on we could go to Mars without any motive power of our own: Mars is drawing us—the earth has nothing to do with us at all. We only need the motors for speed—it's speed we want. Mackenzie, get you away and see what happened to that motor."
"Ay, ay, sir," said the engineer, who was now recovered. "It may be all right, but I hope it doesn't happen agen!"
His hope was fulfilled, for although there were various other things that did happen, with which we have no time to deal here, the motors did not fail them any more, and at last the time came when Appleton, issuing from the wireless cabin, said to them all:
"Men, we have just got through the last wireless to Squires before we reach Mars. Come with me!" He led them to the bow window and pointed out what seemed to be a chequered black and white and red globe. Large indeed it was seen even through the naked eye. Through the telescope it was a thing to wonder at.
"That is Mars," he said quietly. "Every man will at once put on his mask and his oxygen container. Mackenzie, when we have done that, you will stand by the motor, ready to obey my instructions."
"Ay, ay, sir," said Mackenzie, and within ten minutes every man of them had on his mask and was standing by, wondering.
What happened was that Appleton, standing in the bow of the Marsobus, suddenly pulled a lever, and the Marsobus, which all his companions had quite expected to crash into the solid forbidding mass that swung in space before them—the mass that they knew was Mars—seemed to tilt up at a higher angle, and they were looking out of the windows down upon the most amazing sight that had ever greeted the eyes of man.
"Open the window—snap it quickly!" came Appleton's voice, and Horsman, who had been appointed the photographer to the party, obeyed, and so was taken the first photograph of Mars as it actually is.
THE Marsobus hovered over the planet, within a thousand feet of the surface. The men inside her stared fascinated, feasting their eyes upon the scene, more conscious than they had been before of the absence of the upward "lift" of the Marsobus. Ever since they had got within the gravitational range of Mars the "going up" impression had been replaced by what Horsman had called the "nose-dive," and half the airman's emotions had been the result of that impression, which brought back recollections of experiences through which be had passed. He it was who had heaved a sigh of relief when the great wide spreading planes of the Marsobus opened.
Chief of all emotions, however, amongst all the members of the party was that aroused by the close vision of Mars itself. During the long journey Appleton had entertained his willing listeners with theories regarding the planet: theories that were well worn, and theories that he himself had formed by independent study of the planet. Questions of the canals, of the ruddy colour of the planet, as seen through the telescopes of the earth: questions of the polar caps; of the likelihood of animal and plant life—in fact, all the problems that had for centuries perplexed humankind regarding Mars had been discussed, and, naturally, all had been conjecture.
But now they were face to face, as it were, with reality, and it was vastly different from anything they had ever conceived. True, Appleton himself had for a long time been making observations through his telescope and microtelescope, but for some reason he had told nothing of what he had discovered—evidently wishing to keep it all as a surprise. The unskilled eyes of the other members of the party had told them very little of value, except Horsman, that is, whose flying experience had taught him observation and given him the facility to interpret what he saw. Nevertheless, even he could not restrain the exclamation of surprise at what lay beneath them.
"By Jove!" he exclaimed. "Look, young Craig!"
Teddy was looking; he needed no inciting to feast his eyes upon that scene, any more than did the rest of the party, including Appleton himself. Below them lay what reminded them of nothing so much as cities of an ancient civilization—of Egypt, of Assyria, of the wonders of Aztec cities, that lie now just relics of the great past. With this difference, that so far as the eye could tell at that distance, the buildings were not of stone or brick but of metal—some metal that shone like gold and threw back the sun's rays in scintillating beauty. The city covered, literally, a great island that lay on the bosom of a vast lake, fed, as could be seen from above, by a straight cut channel that came from somewhere in the unseen distance.
"Got it, Horsman?" came Appleton's voice, suddenly cutting the deathly silence that reigned, and the young aviator pulled himself up with a jerk.
"You bet!" he said. "And more than once I almost dropped the camera back to earth!"
He laughed a little hysterically, but Appleton said, quite calmly and seriously, as though he were lecturing a company of students.
"Don't be foolish, Horsman! If you dropped it it would fall on Mars, not on the earth. And—" he was peering through his powerful glasses as he spoke, and pulled up shortly. His face was pale, his mouth firmly set, and not even the hideous mask that he wore could hide the fact that he was greatly excited. "There—are—people—something like—people—moving—about—down there," he said. "Friends, we've solved the mystery that is eating the hearts out of scientists on the earth." He literally dashed away from them and ran into the wireless cabin; the rest followed him and the Marsobus, stationary now, hovered uncannily as Appleton had fixed her to do. With nervously twitching fingers, all his old sangfroid gone now, Appleton worked the wireless instrument. Calling . . . Calling . . . Calling . . . and wondering whether the answer would ever come.
It came at long last . . . And Appleton, almost weeping for very joy and sheer excitement, sent the whispering waves careering through the eternal space, carrying to Squires the message of the great achievement.
"The world will know within five minutes!" Appleton said huskily, as he got up from his seat. "Heavens, what I would give to be there to know what happens, to witness it all and to—to . . . sorry, fellows," he recovered himself quickly. "I'd rather be here than anywhere else in God's universe. We'll descend. Automatics ready, in case of trouble. But no one to act until I give the word!"
Pent-up with excitement, with every nerve at a tension, with strange beatings of hearts, every man took up his post as prearranged, while Appleton went into the bow and sat in the pilot's seat. The hovering Marsobus seemed to spring to life as she answered to the call of her master and the next moment was volplaning down to Mars.
"What the blue jinks is that?" cried Mackenzie suddenly, and he seemed to have his eyes glued to his glasses.
"Where? What?" came the chorus; but there was no need for Mackenzie to say any more, because everyone saw what he meant. Rising from the flat top of a great building was what looked like a flight of birds—tiny things that flew with flapping wings.
"We've scared some birds, I reckon," said Ashby; but Appleton said quietly, grimly:
"Not on your life; those things are—aeroplanes! And they're coming for us!"
"My word!" breathed Horsman. "You're right, sir. What are we up—a thousand feet? And they look no bigger than pheasants even at that distance!"
Straight for the hovering Marsobus the strange flight was coming, and although the earth-men themselves were in a machine that could operate on the helicopter principle, they were not a little amazed to notice that the aeroplanes—for the nearer the things came, the easier it was to see that they were indeed aeroplanes—were rising vertically, and their wings were moving up and down as they came.
"The thing is, shall we wait and see what happens, or shall we make a beeline for the lake?" Appleton muttered, as if to himself. The problem was solved for him by the first "squadron" of aeroplanes reaching the Marsobus and rising above her, and Appleton, thinking discretion the better part of valour in circumstances of which he knew not the full purport, decided to make for the lake. He called out to Mackenzie to see to the motors and, seating himself in the pilot's cabin, manipulated his switches; the Marsobus moved forward, and the uprising aeroplanes were left behind.
"They're bound to chase us, but that won't matter, perhaps!" Appleton said.
Teddy, standing beside Appleton, saw the long thin line of his compressed lips, and suddenly realized that something was wrong.
"What is it?" he asked huskily, but for a moment or so Appleton did not answer. When he did it was in a voice thick and choky.
"The wretched thing's got out of control!" he said. "I can't steer her. I wanted to land yonder on the lake, but she's heading straight for the heart of the city and—and—Craig, I'm afraid our adventure is going to end in disaster! Tell the others! It's only fair to let them know what's likely to happen."
Teddy rushed to do his bidding, but there was little need for him to have done so, since Horsman, standing at the window, had seen what was happening.
"It's rotten luck, Teddy," the airman said; "but—it's the fortune of adventure! And, anyway, we may escape a proper smash, and—"
His words were drowned in a terrific crash that shook the Marsobus from end to end and threw her occupants to the floor. Teddy picked himself up wonderingly; he saw Horsman lying huddled in a corner on top of Ashby, and Mackenzie came tottering, gropingly, through the door from the stern engine-room, his face smothered with blood; he was blinded by the red flow over his face.
"What's happened?" the Scotsman asked falteringly.
"It's all right, fellows!" came Appleton's steady voice at that moment. "We've hit Mars—hit it full; but thank goodness we're not smashed up."
Teddy turned to him, but Appleton slid across the floor to where Horsman and Ashby lay. He turned them over and examined them, forced some brandy between their lips from the pocket flask he carried, and said not a word until he had brought them round.
"Only stunned," he said at last, when they were on their feet. "Now listen, fellows; we're in a bit of a mess. We've crashed right through a terrifically tall building—domed like St. Paul's it is—and the nose of the bus is sticking in, and there's a sight worth seeing. Come along."
They followed him into the pilot's cabin, listening as he told them that just as the Marsobus struck the building he got control of her, but not in time to save her from boring her way through.
"Look!" he said, and they looked with wondering eyes. Down below they could see, bathed in a white light, a temple like building, with hundreds of people flitting to and fro as if in terror, while on a throne in the centre sat a gigantic man, armed and armoured like a knight of ancient times. He was evidently trying to control the disorder, and even as the earth-men watched they saw that he was succeeding, and they saw something else. Up stairways in the sides of the building tall men and little men were racing, going from one gallery to another—the whole building was lined with these galleries right to the very top—and it was evident that these men had been ordered, and were proceeding, to do something to the strange intruder into their temple or hall, whatever it might be.
"I'd like to know what they're going to do," Appleton said calmly; "but I think we'll not stay. Fortunately, we're stuck in the roof of this building, but the engines are working, and I'm going to reverse and wrench the bus out. Mac, if you can see, set the engines going—the stern set. The rest of you hang on to anything, in case of accidents!"
But before they could do so there came a sound of hammering on the shell of the Marsobus—great heavy reverberating blows.
"Those fellows have not only got aeroplanes, but bombs as well!" called out Horsman excitedly; he was actually feeling in his element now.
"They've got to have a better explosive than any there is on earth," said Appleton, "if they are to get through our hide. As I told you, the bus is made of a metal that I invented myself, and there's nothing I know that can punch a hole through it! Hang on—we're moving now!"
That was not exactly correct. What was correct was that the Marsobus's engines were purring away, and presently there came the sound, above the constant hammering, of the bus tearing herself away from the great jagged hole she had made in the roof of the building. The engines, the most powerful ever constructed by man, made short work of the task, and suddenly the Marsobus shot—literally shot—like a rocket from the imprisoning roof. Instantly Appleton changed the direction of drive; then, with the Marsobus under control again, he turned its nose straight for the spreading lake that he had wanted to reach before the catastrophe.
"Thank goodness!" he breathed to Teddy, standing by his side. "It's rotten luck we've made such a wretched debut, but it can't be helped. We'll have to make the best of it. My word, even although nothing's coming in, those bombs or whatever they may be are giving us a shaking up!"
The Marsobus, instead of swinging on her even way, was rocking every now and then as something struck her and, since the windows had been closed, it was impossible to see what was happening outside. Actually what was happening was that a larger swarm than ever of the tiny aeroplanes was chasing the Marsobus, but their speed was as nothing compared with that of the bus, which Appleton, taking his bearings through the very small observation window in the pilot's cabin, was guiding towards the lake. At last, not without some trepidation, of which he made no mention however, he managed to bring her there.
"Look here, fellows," he called out then, "we've got to take the risk. We're going out. But before we do so we'll have a look and see what's happening to those aeroplanes."
The windows were unshielded again, and, to the surprise of all, not a sign was to be seen of any of the planes—not a sign, that is, of any still in the air; but, lying rocking on the surface of the lake, and being carried along by a current that ran through, were several of the tiny machines.
"Evidently we biffed into some of them," Horsman said grimly. "Like knocking flies down!"
"It's a pity—a great pity," Appleton said quietly. "I'd give anything for this not to have happened; but—we'll face the music. Ready?"
Leaving his seat, he went up an uncoiled rope ladder, manipulated the mechanism above, and so opened the sliding panel that gave exit to the open air. A second ladder already attached was pulled up and flung outboard. Appleton clambered down it and hung like a mariner in the ratlines, looking out across the water to the City of the Island.
"Come up, comrades!" he called out, and at the word the rest scrambled up and poked their heads through the aperture, with no eyes for the ice-covered shell of the Marsobus; no eyes for anything but the vision that lay before them. Swarms of living beings lined the edge of the island nearest to them, gazing with as much wonder on the visitants as the latter gazed at them. Giants there were, and yet not all of them were giants, for some amongst them were of a size that made the Britons feel like giants themselves; and nevertheless it was possible to see, even at that distance, that the smaller people were not merely children, since some of them boasted beards.
And all of them gesticulated wildly, while from the inland came a low murmur of voices.
"The Martians!" breathed Teddy through chattering teeth, for the air was chill and almost numbing.
"Ay, ay, the Martians," echoed Appleton. "We must go to meet them. Get out the boat, Mac!" and Mackenzie dropped off the ladder and handed up the collapsible boat with which the Marsobus was equipped. Appleton took it and lowered it on to the surface of the lake, released the spring that held it closed, and within a few minutes every man of the adventurers was aboard her, with Mackenzie rowing lustily towards the shore of the island and Appleton sitting calmly in the stern, watching the movements of the Martians. What was to be their reception?
Suddenly the Martians passed from their evident astonishment into some state that held something more sinister for the visitors. A large number of them went streaming back to the city and lined what seemed to be a huge embankment; there came floating across the waters the sound as of a hundred bells, and at each clanging note still more people sprang upon the parapet until it was literally alive with moving figures.
Those who remained on the shore—the pigmies these—stood as impassive as if they were carved out of stone. There was nothing hostile about them; they merely stood as though they would welcome the new-comers, or perhaps it was that they were waiting for orders.
Presently, there issued from the city a massive figure of a man—one whose height and bulk seemed to dwarf the largest of the rest. A horned helm he wore with glittering points at the end as of diamonds flashing in the sunlight, and he looked for all like a Viking of ancient days. He strode down to the shore, and the pigmies there bowed till their heads touched the ground; they remained thus until with a loud voice the new comer shouted something. Then they sprang erect; every man of them put his hand into the skin tunic that he wore, took it out again, seemed to throw something into the water and the next instant not a sign of the Martian city, of its teeming peoples, of the pigmies on the shore, or of the man who towered so majestically amongst them, was to be seen.
And more than that, the occupants in the boat that had set off from the Marsobus could see neither one another nor the vehicle that had brought them from the earth. The light of the sun was blotted out; there was a dense, unyielding pall of blackness, as black as the darkest night.
"Steady, men!" came Appleton's voice, followed by the "splash" of his powerful electric torch. "Torches out, all of you!" And four other torches smashed into the darkness, only to spread out as though they were focused upon a solid wall. Penetrating power there was none.
"Worse—than—the—gas—of— Flanders!" came Horsman's voice huskily.
"Thank Heaven it's not so bad—it doesn't choke!" exclaimed Appleton. "I shall have to find out how it's done!" He was speaking quite naturally as though he were discussing some scientific experiment that was entirely new to him.
"What are we going to do, sir?" Mackenzie asked. "Shall I keep on rowing or—"
"What's the good?" Appleton told him. "You might crash into something. Lay on your oars; we'll wait and see what happens. I have no doubt our friends the Martians have something else up their sleeves!"
They had indeed!
And it happened with startling suddenness. Even as Appleton finished speaking, his torch dropped from a nerveless hand and every one of the party experienced the sensation that had preceded Appleton's own inertia; they drooped like wilting flowers and tumbled into the bottom of the boat.
TEDDY CRAIG opened his eyes with difficulty; the lids seemed to be heavily weighted and the effort was filled with pain. So, too was the actual opening, for a blaze of terrific light seemed to burn into their very sockets and he closed them involuntarily.
The first impression was of freedom from the restraint of the oxygen masks, and for a while Appleton, at least, lay wondering how it came about that he was living at all, or, living, how it was he had no difficulty in breathing. He pondered for a while, then gave it up, with the thought, "Suppose they've solved the problem of atmosphere—find that out later!"
"Where are we? What's happened?" Craig's voice came. He spoke as though his throat were paralysed. He tried to raise himself up, but could not—except his head, which he was able to lift a little way from the ground. It enabled him to see that the rest of the party were there, too, all lying as he and Appleton were.
"'Lo, young Craig," Appleton said, "Can you get up?"
"No," the youngster told him.
"Neither can I!" Appleton said. "The rummiest thing I've struck. I can see that I'm not bound, and I know I'm not staked down—but I can't lift a limb. The only things I can do are to lift my head a bit and speak."
"Same here," came a deep growl from Mackenzie. "Seems as though I'm hypnotized!"
"Or fossilized!" said Appleton grimly. "Absolutely no feeling in my body. Anyway, it's something to the good that we haven't been killed! And that the blackness has gone. We must have been here a long time, because it's not daytime now; that's moonlight shining through that hole in the top of this place. Wonder what happened to the bus? If those Martians have done anything to it we're—we're stranded in Mars for life!"
"Lordie!" exclaimed Mackenzie. "It's verra likely that we're stranded here for life, even if they've done nothing to it at all. Bodies who can do what they've done to us won't be likely to let us gang our ain way! By hookey, but I've got pins and needles in my richt foot!"
Teddy found himself laughing at the oddity of it all, despite the fact that there seemed so little at which to be amused. He turned his head to look at Mackenzie, and in doing so found that he was able to move much easier than he had been before, and the truth came to him that whatever was the influence under which he had been placed it was leaving him.
"Things are getting easier, sir," he said to Appleton, and the Professor grunted:
"So they are, so they are; but it's infernally uncomfortable. Pins and needles, you call it, Mac. It's like red-hot hypodermic needles all over my body. But it's a top-hole anaesthetic these fellows have discovered," he went on, with a touch of admiration in his tones.
"I'd rather have the toothache for life than get my system filled with it any more," growled Horsman. "What are we going to do when—hallo, here's someone coming!" He broke off as a blaze of light shot into the place in which they were lying. It seemed to have no source, that light, but simply happened, and the whole building was lit up as brilliantly as if the sun were shining.
Sounds as of steel-clad feet clinking on stone, and the murmur as of many voices, broke the still silence. With heads raised up, the little band of prisoners, held by invisible bonds, stared at the scene being enacted before them.
Now that the light was with them, they saw that they were in a great domed building, circular and galleried right up the sides, and in the centre of the roof was a wide opening through which the moonlight had come. In the middle of the floor space, directly under the roof opening, stood a gigantic throne-like erection, that shone like burnished gold and threw back scintillating beams as though the light were reflected from a thousand gems.
"Phew!" breathed Teddy.
"Shut up!" growled Appleton. "You distract my attention!"
It was indeed an occasion for one's wholehearted attention; for, marching around the great hall, were files of men, clad in armour, every one of them, but weaponless, as far as the prisoners could see. At every few yards, parties of the men left the marching files and began to climb stairways that led to the galleries above, and, breathless and wondering, Appleton's party watched them as they ranged themselves around, until every gallery was filled with the armoured men. Then the clinking of feet on the stone, the breathing of men, the murmur of them, ceased, and deathly silence reigned again, while every man of the Martians stood tense and as if expectantly, looking steadily at the throne.
"Waiting for his nibs the boss," came from Ashby, and at the unexpected inanity his comrades laughed. The sounds of their voices seemed to whip the silence. The Martians were evidently surprised, for there was a clatter as of metal rubbing metal; it was caused by the sudden jerking of the men into movement, their armour touching as they moved. Then silence again, and the next instant Teddy saw a man sitting on the throne. How he had got there Teddy did not know. He had seen no movement. No one had crossed the hall; the man might have appeared out of nowhere, unseen in his coming. He just happened.
It was easy to see that, despite the fact that he too was arrayed in gleaming armour, he was the man who had stalked down to the shore and given the signal that had made the Martians do that which had brought about the solid blackness in which the adventurers had been engulfed. He was a giant of a man, quite seven feet in height. Red hair curled close to his head, and his face was red-hued. Human, he looked, yet in a vague, indefinite way. His ears were disproportionately large, relative even to his large stature; his nostrils were spread wide across his face, and the mouth below was also wide. The eyes were set deep beneath a beetling brow, and Appleton, at any rate, with a scientist's observation, noted the breadth of forehead and the shape that told of well-developed mentality.
The armoured men in the galleries stood stiffly at rest, the visored head of every one of them turned towards the man upon the throne. Suddenly he raised a hand, and, before the captives realized what was happening, they felt themselves jerked up by their shoulders and set upon their feet. Men, evidently behind them ready for their part, had sprang forward, and now ranged themselves as if they were a bodyguard.
"That's better, verra much better," growled Mackenzie, stamping his feet on the ground. "Why, mon, I can feel again!"
"So can I," said Appleton. "Listen, men: do nothing foolish. We're in a tight corner, and how we're going to get out of it goodness only knows."
"If so be as an automatic is any good—" began Ashby, slipping his hand to his belt, but Appleton cut him short with:
"I'll shoot the first one of you who fires without I give the word!"
"You're the boss—go ahead," said Mackenzie grimly. "Look out; his mightiness is beginning the service! Lordie, what a little voice for a big man!"
It was indeed a small, weak voice with which the man upon the throne was speaking.
"Big ears and broad nostrils and small voice—all the result of the attenuated atmosphere," said Appleton quietly, as though he were addressing a class of students. "Evolution moulds to circumstances, y'know."
"Pity it didn't teach these fellows English," said Mackenzie. "I'd give a lot to know what the gentleman is sayin'. It may be verra serious."
"We'll know soon enough, without understanding the language," said Appleton grimly. Then he fell silent again, and the Martian went on talking in the ridiculous falsetto voice, but for which there was a grim ominous silence. Presently he ceased, and the men on guard over the prisoners suddenly seized them and led them towards the throne, halting them at its very foot. It was a queer sensation, that of walking; it seemed to the earth-men as if they could not keep their feet upon the ground. Every time a foot touched the floor and the spring of it enabled them to walk, they went up with a bound. They had all been prepared for this, knowing that the lower pressure of the Martian atmosphere was responsible.
In silence they stood there, waiting.
The man on the throne leant forward and said something to them, but Appleton shook his head.
"Sorry, but I can't, understand you!" he said, and at the sound of his voice, three or four times the power of the Martian's, the man on the throne jerked upright again. It was evident that the boom of Appleton's voice, echoed and re-echoed in the domed building, had astonished him, even as the weakness of his own had been a cause for wonder on the part of the adventurers.
As he spoke, Appleton was swinging a kit-bag from behind him, and, opening it, took out a many-folded square, which Teddy recognized as the astronomical chart over which he himself had pored more often than once with Appleton during the journey in the Marsobus. It was nothing more nor less than a chart of the heavens as conceived by Appleton from the point of view of a watcher on Mars. It was a blue chart, with the stars, the earth, and moon, and the other planets picked out in white, with a thick line drawn from the earth, and on it a beautifully clear drawing of the Marsobus. With the chart spread out upon the floor, Appleton drew his finger along the line on which the Marsobus was drawn, and said, not because the Martian could understand, but because it was natural to speak as well as to motion:
"Thence have we come!"
He dived into the kit-bag again, and from it took out a large print, which was from a negative that he had taken during the journey. It was a photograph of the earth, and had been taken with the fine microtelescope on the Marsobus.
Teddy, watching Appleton, saw him point, first to the dot on the chart representing the earth, and then to the photograph, as though to make it quite clear what he meant. From Appleton Teddy looked up to the Martian, and it was plain that he was very much impressed. Plain, too, that he had some glimmering of the meaning intended to be conveyed to him by the man whose finger was tracing the lines of the chart.
He spoke—but fruitlessly as far as the captives were concerned; but his own people understood what he was saying, for they seemed to be exceedingly excited. Apprehensive, the captives watched them what time their gaze was not fixed upon the man on the throne, eager to get some inkling of his intentions. His face was impassive.
"Keep quiet, you fellows," Appleton warned his comrades; but Mackenzie, with a growl, said:
"Ef his lord mightiness did but have an accent as Scotch as his hair is red, I wad like it better!"
"Shut up, you ass!" snapped Appleton, as the Martian held up his hand. The noise subsided immediately, and the Martian spoke again. This time the effect was to bring forward, from somewhere behind the prisoners, half a dozen men, venerable with age, and garbed in long flowing robes of golden cloth, decorated with precious stones.
"The wise men!" breathed Appleton. "And they're thought more of in Mars than they are on earth!"
Teddy could not forbear a smile at the Professor's words, but the smile quickly passed in his interest to see what the new-comers would do. They approached the throne and stood before it, not as menials, but as men who had a perfect right. One of them spoke, and the man on the throne answered, pointing as he did so to the chart which Appleton still had opened upon the floor.
Immediately the "wise men" bent down and examined it closely. Appleton was quick to seize the opportunity; he seemed to sense what was happening and, bending low with the Martians, he proceeded to do for them what he had done for their king, if king the enthroned man was. Tense silence reigned for a while, but at last it was broken by one of the men straightening himself and so addressing the king.
Despite the fact that they knew no word that was spoken, the captives caught the intonation in the man's voice and realized that he was greatly excited, and his constant pointing, first to the captives and then to the chart, proved that he was explaining in his own language what he had learned from the examination made. Moreover, after a few moments, he turned to one of his companions, and said something to him that sent him hurrying away. He passed behind the throne, and the earth-men did not see whither he went beyond. He returned presently with two huge Martians following him, carrying something that, to the amazement of Appleton and his comrades, seemed to be a globe of the heavens, made evidently out of gold and with the stars and the planets, the moon, and the sun shown by precious stones!
"My word!" breathed Appleton, whose curiosity overcame him, so that he advanced to meet the Martian, who ordered the bearers to put down the apparatus and then waved them aside. The man on the throne leant forward expectantly, and listened intently while the wise man spoke, illustrating his words by reference to the globe. For a long, long time he spoke, and when at last he had finished the King stood up on his throne and said something in a loud voice. Immediately the Martians in the galleries began to move. They descended to the floor of the hall, and marched out, leaving the earth-men with the king and the wise men, and the few others who had acted as guards.
Then, even as he stood before them, a martial and imposing figure indeed, the king seemed to disappear as if by magic. Even as he had come, so did he disappear, and none saw him go.
"First a cloak of darkness, then a cloak of invisibility!" said Horsman grimly. "Like the old fairy tales! Wonder what the game is? Lordie, I'm hungry!"
"This much is certain," said Appleton quickly. "We're not going to be maltreated. These fellows are interested in us! Keep steady, and for goodness' sake don't make any mistake and be truculent!"
Suddenly the "wise men," who had been conferring together, turned and faced the captives. One of them stooped down, picked up Appleton's chart, and handed it to him. Then he moved his arm as if in invitation, and the little company of Martians, turned and walked off, followed immediately by Appleton and his comrades, who had been quick to seize the intention.
Across the great hall they went, and through a door, then down a long corridor, so dark that they could not see where they were going, and were only guided by the sounds of the footsteps of the men in front of them. Stretched-out hands, however, showed that the corridor was not very wide.
Teddy felt the eeriness of it, and there was a grip at his heart—a grip of fear that these Martians, who had shown no signs of intending harm, should be leading them into a trap.
"Is it a trap?" he asked Appleton, and his voice seemed to boom through the corridor.
"Don't know, and anyway we've got to go through with it, without showing funk!" said Appleton quickly. "Hallo, there's a light!"
A flood of light entered the corridor through a door that one of the men in front had opened, and a moment or so later the whole band was in a large room. Even as they entered there were several people busy in the room, placing things upon a table.
The people who were engaged in doing these menial tasks were dwarfs, similar to those who had stood on the edge of the lake and made the great blackness. For the first time Appleton and his comrades had an opportunity to observe them, and, comparing them with the other Martians, there was the most remarkable difference. The little men were dwarfs indeed; not one of them was more than two feet six in height. They had spindly legs and long feet; their bodies were distended; their arms were long, and their hands large; their heads were bald and quite flat on top; their eyes were protruding and lacking in lashes and hair on the brows; and as they climbed up the laddered legs of the big table and tripped along the surface, carrying large dishes filled with food, they made as ridiculous a sight as could be imagined.
"Fums Ups! That's what they are!" almost shrieked Teddy, and his companions laughed at the comparison, which was indeed about right.
"Midgets, if you like," said Appleton; "but, my word, they're strong! Look at that shrimp over there carrying a tray on his head that must weigh ten times what he himself does! And—and, good gracious! look, there's one of 'em flying! No; he's only leaping! But the beggar leapt twenty yards if an inch!"
It was weird, indeed, to see the tiny figure going through the air as though they were wingless birds, and it was Appleton who suggested the reason for their lightness.
"Atmospheric conditions again," he said, "These little chaps are evidently extremely strong, and those long thin legs of theirs are very powerful, and enable them to spring easily; you know how difficult it is for us to walk without jumping off the ground! These dwarfs use the scientific fact to advantage."
Further discussion of the pygmy folk was ended by the waved invitation of the giant Martians towards the table, off which the attendant dwarfs scampered and at which the white men sat them down.
White metal and yellow gleamed, but what interested Appleton and his friends more than anything else was the sight of plenty of edible things, though what they were they did not know. There were fruits, certainly; but the nature of them was a mystery. There were nuts, too, and green vegetables, but these also were of a kind unfamiliar to the visitors, who kept on eating (and drank, too, of the good-tasting liquid of the consistency of milk cream and yet was colourless)—kept on until they could eat no more, for after their surfeit of tinned foods and concentrated food, and lack of fresh fruit and vegetables, the feast was good beyond measure.
"Ah never was a vegetarian," said Mackenzie with difficulty; "but Ah do say right now that this is the best feast Ah have had for many and many a year! Though I do think they might 'a' cooked the stuff! Ah like cabbages—though these things aren't exactly cabbages!—but Ah do like 'em cooked!"
Almost entirely at case now, convinced that for the time being, at any rate, they were safe, his companions could enter into the spirit of Mac's little joke, and they laughed at his expression.
"What I'd like to know," put in Ashby, "is how we're going to let the beggars know when we want some more grub! It's as like as not that they eat only once a day and, goodness me, I'll be starved in a week! They're queer enough for anything!"
"My dear Ashby," Appleton told him with a smile, "we've not come to Mars just to have a look round—sort of doing Mars as the Yankees do Europe! We've come to investigate to find out things—to learn, and the first thing we've got to learn is the language!"
"My hat!" exclaimed Teddy. "I was a duffer even at French, and now Martianese, or whatever they call it, will about stump me! How on earth—or rather on Mars—are we going to learn? We haven't anything to start on!"
"How do you think the first Englishman learnt French?" Appleton asked.
"Oh, that's all right," Teddy said; "but hang it all, there is something about French that even the biggest duffer can get the hang on, and once you've done that—"
"But there's nothing about Chinese, is there, to help in that way?" Appleton asked, and Teddy had to agree. "Well, I didn't leave this business of learning the language just to chance," Appleton went on; "I've got a scheme mapped out, and I'm going to try it."
"We'll begin now and start in on grub!" growled Ashby. "I want to learn enough to ask for the next meal."
Appleton laughingly said:
"That's not a bad idea," and he drew out a pocket-book and a pencil, and his companions watched him draw, in very large letters, the word "FOOD." The Martians watched him also, but they did not seem at all surprised to see a man writing. To Teddy it seemed that they were intensely interested, and the youngster could have vowed that he saw something like intelligent appreciation in their eyes. There certainly was when Appleton held out the paper to the Martians, pointed to the word written on it, then to the food still on the table, then to his own mouth. Then he said "Food!" half a dozen times, still continuing to point to that on the table. After that he passed his pencil and his pocket-book over to one of the Martians, and motioning with his finger, asked the man to write even as he himself had done.
Teddy, watching Appleton's face, saw anxiety written on it, as though he were doubtful whether he had made his listeners understand his meaning; or, maybe, as though he were wondering whether these people of Mars had the written word as well as the spoken word as a medium of expression. To Teddy's exceeding great relief, and also to Appleton's, the Martian who had the pencil drew something on the paper. Whether they were letters, whether they were pictures, or what they were, none of the earth-men could say; but there, plainly written, were certain marks on the paper, and immediately they were there the Martian performed exactly the same actions as Appleton had, going even further and picking up one of the fruits and eating it.
"Getting on!" said the Professor. "Of course, it may be only the name of the fruit, and not the general word for food. However, I'll try that out!"
He picked up the paper and read it, listening, as he did so, to the Martian, who was tying something. It was, however, Teddy who got in first, for suddenly he repeated the word almost exactly as the Martian had pronounced it. The effect was remarkable: the Martians sprang to their feet and clapped their hands; Appleton stamped his foot on the ground and glared good-naturedly it is true, at Teddy.
"Craig!" he said sharply. "You're the first man of earth to speak Martianese, as you called it."
"Sorry, sir," said Teddy, but he didn't look it. "Couldn't help it, you know, and I suppose we've all got to learn it!"
And in that sentence Teddy Craig summed up, practically, the whole history of the first three months' sojourn upon Mars. For, after having succeeded, by signs, in getting the Martian wise men to take them outside to where the Marsobus was, and having got it on to the land, and safely anchored, Appleton impressed upon his companions, and somehow managed to convey the same thing to the Martians, the fact that the first thing to be done was to obtain some method of communication. For three mouths he resolutely refused to do anything else but study, with the Martians, the language of the planet; the only interest that anything in the City on the Lake had for him was that it would help him to learn, and the result was that he, at any rate, at the end of those three mouths was able to converse with the Martians, albeit haltingly, while the wise men and the king (whose name was, or sounded like, Hoomri), whom the earth-men saw very frequently, were able to speak some little English, for Appleton had done for them what they had done for him. He had shown and given the English words for a large number of things, and day by day the adventurers learned new wonders of Mars.
They found the Martians—at least the tribe amongst whom their lot was cast, who wen called Fambians (the people of the Land of Gold)—a highly intelligent race, who in very many things had outstripped the people of the earth in scientific and mechanical achievement.
"They are an older people than us," Appleton said one day. "They have passed our stage of development and are mentally much superior to us. Look at their aeroplanes: they are really sun-planes worked by stores of sunlight. Look, too, at the way in which they have stored up sunlight, to be their motive power generally, and how, when necessary, they can re-convert it back to light. Look, too, at their system of wireless—it is not dependent on aerials. Look at the destructive powers they have harnessed to their will"—he was referring to the fact that the Fambians had a secret, invisible destructive force that emanated from the sun and was ejected, as it were, from a long thin tube, no larger than a rifle tube.
"But what about their medical knowledge?" said Horsman. He remembered being present when a Martian doctor had quite easily put back the arm of a man—an arm that had been severed in an accident.
"You're right—they are an amazing people," said Appleton.
"But they no can speak Scotch, and ne'er will," was Mackenzie's grouch.
"They're like wireless in that, Mac!" Appleton laughed. "Which reminds me, fellows, I've had a queer thing happen. I got my daily bulletin through to Squires, and told him how we were progressing, and he sent one back saying—what do you think?"
"Goodness only knows," Horsman said. "What? Revolution, another war, or the sea dried up?"
"None of those things," Appleton said solemnly. "You joke about the sea drying up, but it's just as incredible a thing that has happened. The fact is, that I've lost the earth and—"
"What!" exclaimed Horsman and the rest in chorus. "Can't get into wireless touch?" Teddy Craig, who had carried on the interrogation, stopped as Appleton spoke again.
"I mean I've lost sight of the earth," Appleton said. "I was watching it, when suddenly the planet disappeared. The fact is, I couldn't get into touch with Squires."
"But—but the earth can't go gadding about!" Teddy said facetiously, but Appleton pulled him up sharply.
"Don't joke about it, Craig. We can't even think of going back to earth until we find the earth and the earth finds Mars, because it's certain that the earth must also have lost Mars. No; wait a minute. I'm not trying to scare you, but it's ten to one that when I look for the earth to-night I shall still be unable to find it."
To say that, Appleton's statement struck chill into the hearts of his companions is to put the matter mildly, and for the rest of that day the earth-men lost all interest in Mars as an abode. They were waiting—waiting for the night to come that Appleton might search the heavens, seeking the earth.
And night came. With it came the confirmation of Appleton's statement.
"What does it mean," Teddy asked him, when he told them the news.
"It means that some great thing has happened, but what it is, goodness only knows. We know, of course, that the distance between Mars and the earth varies. Mars is a planet, and every planet is a 'wanderer'—the very word means that. Mars is normally nearly two hundred and fifty millions of miles from the earth, but in its wanderings it approaches to within thirty-five millions of miles, about once in every two years. The reason why in its wanderings the earth does not lose sight of Mars is because it follows a fixed orbit; but, although it seems to be contrary to the laws of nature, what may have happened now is that Mars has changed its orbit. The result would be that astronomers on the earth would not know where to look for it; its place would be empty. And we here on Mars would be in exactly the same position with regard to the earth. That's what I meant when I said that until we had located the earth it would be impossible for us to think about returning. But, fellows, you're not afraid; the adventure is big and wonderful, and worth while! Even if we never return I have sent back sufficient information to earth to have paid for anything that may happen to us, and that without having done anything more than learn the language and pick up casual information as the result. If—and I am by no means giving up hope that it may happen—if it should happen that I can in due time fix the position of the earth, then we shall be able to establish wireless communication again, and shall also be able to think about returning—when we want to."
"Meester Appleton," said Mackenzie slowly, "speaking for mesel, it's all one whether I'm here on Mars or there on earth. I'm not scairt!"
"Same here," came the chorus from the rest. "That's the stuff!" said Appleton. "Now—why, what racket is that?"
He sprang to the window, and slid hack the golden shutter of it—and as he did so the sound that had startled him and his companions was repeated—and this time it was greater in volume.
It was the sound of voices raised in terror—a great swelling volume of the sound of thousands of voices.
And, looking through the window, the earth-men saw immense flashes of light rising up as from the ground, and in the glare of them they saw buildings melting away as though they had been subjected to some terrific heat, and it was all done without noise. It looked as though tremendous bombs were exploding, but there was no sound of explosion.
At that moment there came, too, a more brilliant glare—a glare similar to that with which the earth-men were familiar as being the light in the houses of the Martians, and they realized that the Martians had set in operation the tremendous machines that operated the imprisoned sunlight. The whole city was bathed in the brilliance; night had indeed turned into day, and, like flitting birds on the wing, could be seen the tiny sun-planes of the Fambi doing battle with other aerial machines that were ten times their size. "Great heavens!" cried Teddy. "It's a battle—and—and—see—those big planes are simply wiping out the city. The whole show is melting—just melting!"
"Meester Appleton," said Mackenzie in his slow, laconic manner, "I do think that it is not so healthy up here as it might be down in the vaults beneath!"
"By Jove, you're right!" Appleton agreed. "Come on—let's hustle! It's the biggest thing I've seen yet! And—hallo, here comes King Hoomri, and no wonder the beggar looks worried!"
HOOMRI'S ruddy complexion, as he entered the room, almost crashing into the earth-men as they turned to rush for safety, was blanched; there was something, too, besides fear written upon his features. There was anger—fury; and there was a menace in his voice as he spoke. Here let it be said that although Appleton and his companions had become acquainted with the language of the Fambians, it was only to an extent that allowed them to hold disjointed conversation, and in recording what passed between them and the natives of Mars, it is necessary to translate the language to ensure an easy reading.
"Strangers!" King Hoomri shouted, and the wise men who followed hard upon his heels looked as angry as he himself was. "Strangers! You came with fair words to us, and we did save your lives. Now—others of your kind have come, and they deal death. You came, we doubt not, to spy out the land, and with your soundless speaking, so like to ours but so much better, you have told those on the place you call Earth to come and make war upon us!"
To say that Hoomri's words struck the adventurers dumb with amazement is to give but a little indication of their feelings. They stood and stared uncomprehendingly at the Martians, behind whom there now trooped a band of the pygmy folk who, as the adventurers had long since learned, were the servants and lighting men of the Fambians, who themselves did no fighting. Shangas, the little people were called, and they were, as Appleton had elicited, a race that had remained primitive throughout the ages of evolution: people of small brain and little stature, but of terrific physical strength and tremendous courage—utilized by the Fambians for their own advantage.
Every man of the band of Shangas that now entered was armed with the peculiar weapon that killed without sound of fire and which Appleton suspected, but could not prove, because of the jealousy with which the secret was guarded, to be an instrument worked by radium. The earth-men had seen grim monsters of the tangled jungle, beyond the lake, killed instantly by these weapons, and as they stood, facing the menacing Martians, the earth-men trembled for their lives. It was Appleton who broke the tense silence.
"O Mighty Hoomri!" he cried, using the form of address always adopted by the Fambians when speaking to their king, "the words that you speak are strange, but this do I think them to mean: that these machines that fly and bring death and destruction to your city are from the earth, brought hither at our bidding!"
"Whence else come they?" Hoomri demanded furiously. "Not in all Wooda"—here he used the Martian name for the planet—"are there such machines as those, so like to that in which you came! Not even the people of the Land of Silver, enemies always of Fambia, have such machines! Whence else then do these come?"
His last words were drowned by a terrific crash; the building in which the men stood seemed to shake to its very foundations, the roof dropped inward, and the whole crowd of men scattered as there fell what seemed like a cascade of metal chunks mingled with—greatest wonder of all—the figures, some dead and badly smashed, others living and springing to their feet instantly, of a dozen living beings who were of a green colour!
Unclothed, except for a natural covering of green hair, they presented a strange appearance and a terrifying one; but neither the earth-men nor the Martians gave themselves time to examine them. There was a loud cry from Hoomri, and the lithe little Shangas leapt through the air at the same instant as Appleton and his comrades, as by one common thought, sprang. Teddy Craig found himself grappling with one of the green men, but he was as a babe in the creature's hands. The new-comer simply wrenched himself free of the legs and arm that Teddy flung round him, a great hand shot out and gripped him about the waist, and next instant Teddy felt himself flung through the air. He landed breathless upon someone who grunted, and when he rolled free he found that he had been hurled straight at Hoomri, who was lying on the ground with a green man slowly strangling him.
Teddy acted promptly. He whipped out the little automatic that he had never before used in fight, and fired. The green man loosed his grip instantly and fell away from Hoomri, who sprang to his feet in time to see Appleton clump the last of the strangers on the head with a heavy piece of metal that he had snatched up.
The rest of the green men were lying about the floor in all sorts of attitudes, motionless, side by side with several of the Shangas, more of whom by now had come rushing into the room.
"O Mighty Hoomri!" cried Appleton, quick to seize the opportunity. "These men are not of the Earth. If they be not of Wooda, then I know not whence they come. But, behold, while we stand here the City of the Island melts as the snow in summer. If you would have it so, we go, my friends and I, to give battle in our machine and in our own way, with these men who make war on Fambia!"
All anger had gone out of Hoomri's face now, and it was evident that the sight of the green, hairy men had convinced him that he had made a mistake. Also, it was clear that he was grateful for the offer which Appleton had made, and he looked not a little admiringly at the automatic that Teddy Craig still held.
"Go!" he said. "Fambia must be saved!" With a sharp order to his companions, Appleton made a bolt from the room, Craig and the others hard upon his heels, down the long corridor and several flights of stairs, and so out into the day that was really night, and suddenly became night again. Pitch black it became then, as though an electrically lighted room had suddenly been plunged into darkness by the fusing of a wire.
"My word! That probably means the beggars have got the sunlight installation!" shouted Appleton. "Stick tight to me—we're got to do something!"
He switched on his torch, and the ray of its light guided them to the water's edge. On the lake a great Martian ship suddenly caught fire, and so they were able to find one of the sun-energy driven boats. They did not know how to work the thing, but Appleton said something crisply to a Shanga waterguard. The little man sprang into the boat with them, and the next moment they were racing across the lake, to land on the farther shore and to tear like the wind towards the long low building that had been built to house the Marsobus.
"This is mighty serious for us, fellows," Appleton said grimly. "We're going up against these people, who come from goodness knows where, and it'll be risky for the bus and—"
"Seems to me it'll be risky for it left here, anyway," growled Mackenzie. "If whatever those fellows are using pops down on this building, good-bye to the old bus. So what's the odds?"
"And, anyway, we've lost the earth!" said Horsman grimly, as they clambered into the Marsobus. "What I can't understand is why the Fambians didn't use that black cloud stunt on the new-comers like they did on us!"
"What would be the use of that?" Appleton asked, as the Marsobus crawled out of the building on the wheels that could be lowered and raised as occasion required, and then began to rise vertically. "It's pretty obvious that those airmen above could still go on dropping their bombs—if they are bombs—and make a mess of the city. Mac, look after the motors. Horsman, and you too, Ashby, lake a machine-gun apiece, and tackle any of the enemy machines you can. Craig, keep 'em fed with ammunition. And, say, Horsman, use every shell as though it is worth a million pounds! For it is—to us!"
"You bet!" said Horsman. "By Jimmy! it's like old times—only a thousand times worse! One against a whole jolly aerial army!"
"Not one—there are the little black imps at it!" Appleton told him.
By this time the Marsobus had risen a couple of thousand feet, and down below could be seen the fires that had been set going. Flitting above the glare could be seen the tiny sun-planes of the Shangas and the larger machines of the strangers.
The news had swept rapidly round the city that the earth-men were going up to join issue with the strangers. Hoomri's wireless had whispered the information to the fighting sun-planes. The result was that when the Marsobus was seen, the sun-planes did not make the mistake they might otherwise have made of attacking it.
Appleton steered straight for the aerial squadron, and the two men at the machine-guns fired their high explosive shells. The first one to strike any enemy plane tore a great hole in it and sent the machine crashing down, not a blazing mass as would have been the case with a petrol-driven aeroplane, but a black lifeless mass. It was the signal for a concerted attack on the Marsobus, and several of the enemy machines detached themselves from the attack on the city to make a dead set on their new foe. To add a further terror to things, the oncoming enemies suddenly projected rays of light that focused upon the Marsobus, which thus became the centre of a blaze of light in mid-air. To escape from it, Appleton suddenly shot up, and increased speed, with the result that the questing searchlights could not hold the Marsobus.
"Ready, men!" Appleton cried. "I'm going to drop swiftly right in amongst them!"
He pressed a button, the Marsobus answered at once, and down she went at a terrific pace which brought her full in the midst of the foes, her machine-guns belching forth their high-explosive shells as she steadied, and then went heading now this way, now that, as Appleton drove her for an enemy plane. Many of the foes crashed as the result. So close sometimes did the Marsobus drive to the foes that it was possible for her occupants to see inside the enemy planes, lighted up as they were by the searchlights of their own friends. Green men like those who had tumbled into the building and been overcome were to be seen training what looked like guns upon the Marsobus. A wheel would be turned, and there would issue from the wide maw of the gun a glowing ball that swept through the air. Several times the Marsobus shook as though she had been struck by something, was almost brought to a standstill, and was bathed in a red glare. Yet that was all, and Appleton, who had been tense with anxiety, told himself that whatever might be the power of the explosive used by the strangers, it was of no avail against the shell of the Marsobus, made as it was of the new alloy he himself had invented.
"Heaven knows what they're using," he breathed. "It melts gold as though it were in a crucible," remembering what he had seen happen to some of the Fambian buildings when struck by these glowing balls. Sun-planes, too, steel-fabricked, were dissipated as though they had been struck by an eighteen-pounder shell. Nevertheless, there was no sound from those glowing and ever-increasing balls of fire.
It was a terrible bottle that raged for what seemed to Teddy Craig, at any rate, hours, and always there seemed to be more foes coming against the Marsobus. They left the attack on the city and, pursued by the flitting sun-planes, tried their utmost to bring the Marsobus to account.
Finding their fireballs had no effect, they tried new tactics—tactics which the earth-men dreaded most of all. With amazing courage, they drove their machines full pelt, at the Marsobus, evidently hoping to ram her, and it called for all of Appleton's skill to prevent them being successful. Only the helicopter principle saved the Marsobus on several occasions when, just as it seemed the crash was coming, Appleton changed direction, and she shot up like a rocket, leaving, on two occasions at any rate, a pair of foes to bring about their mutual undoing by ramming each other instead of the Marsobus.
The fires raging down in the city threw up a glare of light that rendered unnecessary the use of the enemy searchlights and showed, too, at last, the amazing sight of the foes preparing for what was evidently a tremendous attempt to bring about the undoing of the foe they could not defeat. High up above the Marsobus, Teddy Craig, at the top observation port, saw that the enemy had massed their machines, almost like a pall spread out, and dropping down!
Teddy shouted the news, and Appleton, realizing instantly that the intention of the foe was to force a smash, even at great cost to themselves, knew that the moment had come which would decide the fate, not merely of the City on the Island, but also of the Marsobus and the chance of ever being able to make a return to earth.
"Close the ports!" he cried. "Don't leave one open! No need to use guns, we're—going—down!"
There was a frantic rush on the part of Craig and Ashby and Horsman to the portholes with their hermetical seals, and as they did so the Marsobus swooped—not down perpendicularly, but in a long gliding movement.
"What are we going to do?" Teddy asked the Professor, who, sitting at the wheel, was looking through the one uncovered window, staring down as the Marsobus, nose-tilted, was swooping towards the lake that looked like a sea of blood as it caught the ruddy reflection of the huge fires.
"We're—going—to—dive—into the lake!" rapped Appleton. "Couldn't hope to escape a crash otherwise."
"My hat!" exclaimed Toddy. "Is it deep enough?" He had forgotten that Appleton had been studying, during those past three mouths, many things that had not occurred to Craig himself as being worth while.
"It is," was the reply, and there was no time for Appleton to tell Craig that the lake was actually a widening out of one of the "canals" of Mars, and that these canals, so called by the scientists of earth, were really tremendous natural canyons, carved by the torrents that swept from the polar caps during the summer time when the snow melted and so gave Mars her only water supply. She was devoid of rivers; of springs she had none; and but for these polar caps life would not have been possible upon the planet. Teddy was to learn all this later—this and the fact that the "canals," deep though they were, were not so deep but what there was sufficient water running into them to fill them and sometimes overflow their banks as the Nile in Egypt did, and spread for over scores of miles, so that around every one of the canals, and only there, was there vegetation to be found. And, as Teddy was to discover also, therein lay the explanation of the Island City and, more, of the reason why every city of Mars was like unto this one of the Fambians.
For the moment, however, Appleton was not thinking of the canals of Mars, except in so far as the presence of one below provided a possible means of escape from the black menace above. He knew that the lake was deep enough for his purpose, and that if, in that downward rush, he could outpace the foe, he would be able to submerge in the water and, by a quick change from aerial to submarine "drive," be able to escape doom.
"Hold on, men!" he shouted. "We're going to dive into the lake!" and through the open connecting doors the rest of the company heard and understood. They clung to the rails provided for this purpose and waited—tensely. Waited perhaps for the crash that should tell of the arrival of the enemy machines, or for whatever else might happen.
And at last it came. Appleton's hand reached out and closed the cover of the window before him. Then stretched over and held a lever. Followed a sudden jerk as though the Marsobus had encountered resistance, and every man there knew that they had struck the surface of the water. Appleton's hand pulled out the lever, the submarine apparatus operated, and the Marsobus levelled up a little; she glided into the water, and through the shell of her came the sound that spoke of the surging water as she passed in.
"Thank Heaven we've done it!" came Appleton's voice, and he slowed the Marsobus down. "We'll lie here and take observation."
Every man of them knew what he meant. They had studied, during that long voyage through space, the wonders of his creation, and knew that it was equipped with an amazingly perfect periscope.
Ashby, who had been trained by Appleton in the work necessary for such a purpose, attended to the matter, and the telescopic periscope shot up and, there on the mirror beneath it, was reflected the scene above. Flitting, hovering shapes showed in the glare, and, as if angry at the escape of their great antagonists, they were venting their spleen upon the Fambian shipping. Vessels were burning, men were swimming, sun-planes were still attacking.
Suddenly all was blotted out, and Appleton, who had been watching the reflected image, said:
"Good. The Fambians have made a cloud which has smothered the lake. That will save their shipping, or some of it, if they can create enough darkness to cover it all. From what Hoomri has told me, I gather that the cloud is only possible where there is water, and it is used for the purpose of putting up a barrier to armed forces coming overland. The Fambians are the only people on Mars, so he said, who have flying machines. That was why he was so angry with us, thinking these strangers were earth-men brought by us! Therefore they are not prepared for anything of this kind. What I can't, understand is where the aeroplanes come from if there aren't any others on Mars!"
"Suppose someone has stolen a march on the Fambians," said Horsman. "Built the machines secretly and made a sudden attack. Talk about France—it was nothing to it!"
"I'm afraid Hoomri's city is doomed," Appleton said. "I propose to go through the lake until we get outside the barrier of the smoke cloud. Then we can take observation and go up again and do something. The enemy will think we're done for, I have no doubt, and we shall take them by surprise again."
He went back to his seat, opened the window-cover, and a flood of light swept into the water. Weird shapes there were—strange swimming figures of gigantic fishes that fled at the sudden lighting up of their domain. The periscope had been taken in, lest, as it was impossible to see anything with it, it should be torn off by some obstruction on the wreck-strewn surface.
ON and on the Marsobus went, with Appleton piloting carefully, not knowing what obstacles might be met; and after a while he commanded Ashby to send up the periscope again. Blackness only was the result—there was naught on the mirror. Once more the periscope was taken in and the Marsobus moved forward—to run almost into something that had suddenly risen up before it—something which suggested at once to the men looking at it an immense antediluvian brute. Neither fish nor animal only was it, but both; and its long neck, surmounted by a monstrous head, was thrust forward inquiringly.
It made no sign of fear. It paused there in the water, its wide fins working. Fascinated, Appleton, his scientific curiosity uppermost, brought the Marsobus to a standstill, and he watched the strange denizen of the Martian deep with all the eagerness of a schoolboy over some hitherto unseen thing.
"Fine brute, if ugly!" he said calmly. "Pity the light's not strong enough to photograph it. I suppose we'll meet some of its fellows up above one day. Meanwhile we must—" His hand clutched the starting lever and the Marsobus moved forward; but the monster did not flee. Instead, it approached the Marsobus, the nose of which caught it and might as well not have touched it, for all the effect. The hide of the beast must have been like horn, for no mark showed on it. The monster hurled itself at the Marsobus, which, with scarcely any way on it, shook to the impact; then, as Appleton put on more speed, it forced the monster back, driving it beneath it. A moment later the Marsobus stopped.
"What's happened?" cried Teddy, but none could tell him. Appleton tried to get the Marsobus to start again, but without avail, and it was only when, at his orders, every window was unshuttered, that Mackenzie, looking out of the stern, discovered the cause.
"Hoots, mon!" he cried. "That hefty brute's slung his neck round the propeller. It's killed him, for sure, but—"
"Has it smashed the propeller?" Appleton rapped, springing across to the window and learning, before the Scotsman could tell him, that, as far as could be seen, no damage had been done. "Ashby, a little job for you. Into your diving-suit at once—you'll have to hack that brute clear."
Without a word, Ashby opened the locker containing the special diving apparatus. It consisted of a thin rubber suit, a helmet specially designed by Appleton and needing no air-pipe, an air container, and weighted boots. Into these Ashby soon got, and then slid into the cupboard-like arrangement on the right hand side of the Marsobus. This was designed so that a man could lie in it after it was locked up, and so that a lever would slide aside the outer shell and allow the man to drop into the water without water rushing in. Hand grips were in the box to enable the diver to draw himself back when his work was done.
With the strong electric light in the top of his helmet throwing a long ray through the water, Ashby moved down the length of the Marsobus and at last reached the stern. The watchers inside saw him wield the strong gleaming axe that he carried, but for all the good it was against the tough hide of the silurian he might as well have tried to cut steel with a penknife.
Ashby gave it up at last, and began to inspect closely the dead brute, running his hands over it. Then, presently, he drew out a huge clasp knife, and, grinning through the window at his comrades began to cut between what looked like scales. The result was that before very long he had succeeded in severing the long neck from the body and was able to cut it away bit by bit from the propeller. The last portion dropped away, and Appleton excitedly pointed to the great head lying on the floor of the water-bed canal. Ashby understood him instantly and picked it up, marched around the Marsobus, and in a very short time was back inside and stripped of his rubber suit.
"Some fish, that!" he grinned. "Here's your head, Mr. Appleton! It's horn that the brute wears as an overcoat!"
"And it's a wonder that the fellow didn't queer us," Appleton said. "Anyway, it was worth it, as it turned out, if only to get his head. Now let's get, along!"
Once again the Marsobus moved forward, and after a while the periscope was shot up, and on the mirror below was reflected sufficient to prove that they had passed outside the cloud-filled area. Immediately, Appleton blew out the ballast tanks, and the Marsobus began to ascend, to break surface at last, and to show to the occupants a far-off glow that they knew must be the still burning City of the Island. Searchlights in the sky and moving balls of fire showed that the fight was being continued, and Appleton, looking through powerful night-glasses, reported that it was evident that the Shangas in their one-man sun-planes, were getting the better of the strangers, since there were now only about half a dozen of the larger machines in sight.
"I reckon we ought to go and help 'em out again," said Horsman quietly.
"Right oh, we will," was Appleton's reply; and, with lights all out, the Marsobus was driven up at a speed that carried it high above the battling planes. "I'm going to swoop," Appleton said at last. "Get ready and fire as we pass them."
Down through the night the Marsobus plunged, and as she passed the enemy machines her two guns spoke. Shells screamed out, and in quick succession four of the enemy planes shot to the ground. The two remaining ones fell victims to the impish Shangas, whose radium weapons had been so effective against their foes through that grim battle which had ended in victory for the Fambians and their little fighting men.
"Guess we can go down now," said Ashby, slipping from behind his gun. "Say, Mr. Appleton, those Shanga fellows are little, but they've the pluck of giants!"
"They have," Appleton called out over his shoulder, as the Marsobus, obedient to his touch, began to descend, and in a few minutes was purring her way into her "home" on the wheels that had been thrust out of the shell. A little while, and the earth-men were racing across the lake in the little craft that had brought them, and were presently making their way to Hoomri's palace, where they found him, surrounded by crowds of Shangas whom he was haranguing, and as Appleton and his comrades managed to gather, was thanking them for having done so well. The appearance of the earth-men was the signal for an outburst of enthusiastic shouting, and when it had subsided Hoomri advanced and saluted Appleton in Martian fashion by shaking hands with himself—a custom that Appleton had learned signified pence and friendliness.
"We thank you, O strangers, who are yet friends!" Hoomri said. "In the name of the people of Fambia I thank you for that which you have done this night!"
"Oh, mighty Hoomri," said Appleton, "we only did that which any man would do for his friends. It is well. Sad it is that we could not do more and so save your city from that which has overtaken it. Know you yet, O mighty Hoomri, who these men be that came?"
"Nay, not yet," said the king. "Not many of those who fell in their giant machines live, and the tongue that they speak is not the tongue of any people upon Wooda. My wise men will, I doubt not, learn what is required."
Suddenly he ceased to speak to Appleton, and shouted in the absurdly weak voice that was characteristic of all the Fambians, something to the Shangas, and within a few moments men who had been fighting so strenuously in mid-air were scattered all over the City of the Island, doing their best to subdue the numerous fires. Appleton and his companions were left to their own devices, for Hoomri had gone off to a council, no doubt to consider the serious state of things as the result of the amazing attack. They wandered about the city, viewing the damage, and at last finished up at the huge works which housed the apparatus for storing the sun's energy. This had been a source of wonder to Appleton ever since he had discovered its purpose. And well it might be, for by some method which they would not disclose the Martians extracted the energy and light from the sun and stored it in gigantic containers. The city itself, the houses in it, were illuminated from this vast reservoir of light, not through the media of lamps, but just exposed wires, the effect of the current driven along these wires being, on contact with the air, the brilliant diffused light that had struck the adventurers on that night when first they burst through the roof of the temple.
Moreover, this "bottled sunlight"—and, after all, we who know so little of the wonders of natural science must remember that the coal we consume in our fires is just that, bottled, as it were, by nature herself throughout the long aeons of existence upon the earth—was used for power purposes. The sun-planes of the Shangas were driven by the energy held within small containers carried on board, the energy being transmitted direct to the moving wings by which they travelled. Ships also were driven by it, and inspection of several of them had revealed to the earth-men the fact that there the Martians had solved the problem of transmission without engines, energy being driven directly to the screw-shaft, thus adding to speed and the economy of power.
The locks of the great canals, too, were operated by this energy; for Mars, as the adventurers learned, was practically one great plain, with little or no rising land, and but for the use of the locks the country lying near the polar caps would have been nothing but swamps and the rest of the planet simply arid desert of red sand.
"They'll be in a nasty mess," said Appleton when he and his friends reached the sun-works, "if the whole show is wrecked. Do you know, fellows, I've come to the conclusion during the last few weeks that life on Mars would not be possible but for the fact that the Martians have harnessed the sun to their use. It is only since I managed to learn enough of the language to speak intelligently that I have discovered that it is because of their conquest of the sun that they can live at all in an atmosphere that we imagined would be so rarefied as not to make it possible for us to exist. Yet we've lived here without our oxygen, which I guess we'll need if this affair has gone out of order for long."
"Anyway, I haven't noticed any difference yet," said Teddy. "Perhaps it's only a part of the show that's gone west, and—hallo! everything's all right again!" he exclaimed, as the city was brilliantly illuminated. Inquiries made of the Shanga engineers who were in charge elicited the fact that the strange fireballs of the enemy had only smashed a portion of the operating machinery and had not damaged the storage tanks.
"Of course; I might have known!" growled Appleton as they wended their way back to the palace in the darkness, the light having been turned off again after it had been discovered that no real harm was done. "If those tanks had burst there'd have been no City of the Island left and—and—I guess we'd have gone up in a big conflagration that would have put done to our hopes of ever getting back to earth!"
"The which I do understand ye to say is a deeficult proposition!" said Mackenzie, referring to the startling discovery that Appleton had made just before the attack by the strange visitants.
"That's in the hands of God," Appleton said reverently. "Anyway, life on Mars promises to be just about the same as it is on earth," he went on with a grim smile. "Wars and dangers of many kinds and—"
"And blackguards, too!" shouted Horsman suddenly, as a piercing scream rang out and a woman, recognizable from men, as all women were on Mars, only by the long plaited hair, and not by any distinctive dress—issued from a side street, screaming and pursued by a dark moving shape.
Horsman sprang for him, and yapped out a cry of astonishment as he caught the man.
"By glory, it's one of the green fellows!" he said, and his companions rushed up in time to see Horsman with the man on the ground, wrestling and struggling for the mastery. The green warrior's legs were thrown round the airman, and his hands were clutching his neck as Horsman lay upon him. Craig grabbed at his comrade and tried to haul him away, but the enemy's hold was as of iron. It was Appleton who effected the rescue by giving the green man a terrific thwack upon the head with the butt end of his automatic, rendering him unconscious and making him relax his deadly grip. Horsman got upon his feet chokingly, and holding his tortured throat; while the woman, who had evidently been scared at the sudden encounter with the green warrior, who must, have escaped death by a miracle when his machine fell, was standing with clasped hands, looking on. When she saw that her pursuer, who no doubt had been bent on preventing her giving information as to his presence, was outmatched, she gave the Martian greeting and expressed her thanks in a tearful voice. Several other Fambians had by now gathered on the spot, and one of them detached himself from the rest, and conveyed to the earth-men—by now quite familiar figures in the City of the Island—that he was the woman's father, and that he was grateful for their timely assistance.
Appleton recognized him as one of the nobles of Fambia, but one who had been by no means kindly disposed to the men whom he looked upon as unwanted visitors.
"Anyway, that little affair has probably made him change his mind," the Professor said.
Arrived buck at the palace, the captive, conscious again, was taken into the presence of Hoomri, who was still in the council chamber, where a strange sight met the eyes of the adventurers.
All the wise men and Hoomri were lying on the floor, beating their hands on it, as if in submission to a dozen hairy men, who were standing in a group, surprise written large upon their faces.
Autocratic in everything, holding the scales of life and death for the Shangas, and, as Appleton had learned during his short sojourn on the planet, held in awe by wellnigh every tribe or nation in other parts of Wooda, the Fambians were the last people to be expected to submit to those who were where they were because they had been defeated.
"Well, I'm hanged!" breathed Appleton, as he looked on. "One would think these green fellows were gods, and the Fambians their devotees! What the deuce can it mean?"
"Ask me another!" growled Mackenzie. "By St. Andrew's cross 'tis passing strange—and I don't like the luik of it!"
"Nor I," said Appleton. "Anyway, we'll find out when Mr. Hoomri has finished his grovelling. Come along, my man," and he dragged the hefty green man right into the room. Hoomri arose at the sounds made by the adventurers, but he at once threw himself down on the floor again, and beat his hands before the new prisoner.
"This is going too far!" exclaimed Appleton to his companions. "The Fambians have gone mad! O Mighty Hoomri!" he said to the King, who was now on his knees and looking at him; "it's indeed a strange thing, this that you do: to thus humble yourself before your beaten foes and—"
"Listen, O stranger," came the voice of Hoomri, almost in a wail. "Speak not so of these Great Ones, lest you bring down their anger upon my people. For these—are they not the Evil Ones of the Groves of Death?"
"That, they are evil ones I well agree," said Appleton grimly, "and evil enough have they done to the City of the Island. But what and where are the Groves of Death?"
"I did forget." Hoomri told him "You know not yet of the Moon of Wooda, and—"
"Then they come, these green men, from some other part of Wooda, after all," Appleton said. "But that doesn't explain why you humble yourself before them."
"Nay, stranger," Hoomri broke in. "Not of Wooda are they, but of the Moon of Wooda, the moon that is called Bandora, the Moon of the Dead! Thither go the souls of men, held captive by the gods, never to return! Content have the gods been to wait for men, but now they have come for them!"
"Good heavens!" muttered Appleton, as the full realization of what Hoomri meant came to him. "They think that these green men came from their hell, or their heaven, and from what I can see Hoomri's going to hand over the show to them!"
"TELL him what a fule he is," growled Mackenzie, looking curiously at the green men. "Ugh! fine gods they be—gods who can be killed!"
"Shut up!" rapped Appleton, an idea coming to him. "Listen, O Mighty Hoomri!" he addressed the king further. "It becomes not me to interfere with your affairs, especially those which concern the things of your religion; but, on the earth we, too, believe in a God and His ministering angels; but they come not in war as do these men whom you say come from the Moon of the Dead. Ay, more, the gods do not die as you have seen this night die some of these who visited Wooda in terror. Think, I beseech you, O Mighty Hoomri, what it is you do to humble yourself to them. If they indeed be the Evil Gods of the Groves of Death, the enemies of Wooda, as they have proved themselves to be this night, it ill becomes you to submit to them. All men must die in their appointed time—the gods of death must claim their victims—but it has never been that men fight against the gods. Man cannot kill the gods, yet have those whom you call gods died at the hands even of the tiny Shangas!"
"It is blasphemy that you speak, O Stranger! Blasphemy that may bring down upon us the wrath of the gods!" Hoomri said. "They who speak not our tongue, but have made us understand by signs, even as you did, whence they came, hold life and death for the people of Wooda. Therefore, Fambia, honoured by their coming, welcomes them as honoured guests, and word has even now gone out through Wooda so that all people shall know, and none do anything that shall bring the displeasure of the gods upon us! Guests they are, even as you, and safety is theirs while they stay; and, more, the honour of men to the gods!"
"I reckon that about does it, sir," came Ashby's voice. "It's no good arguing, and, after all, these few green fellows can't do much harm. Let it alone."
And Appleton, unwilling to risk Hoomri's displeasure, bowed as if in submission to the will of Hoomri, who, calling upon the Shanga servitors, ordered them to prepare the best room in the palace for the green men.
"Let none hinder their coming or their going," he said.
And the Shangas, beckoning to the visitors to follow them, went out of the council chamber, with the green men from the Groves of Death behind them.
Back in their own quarters, Appleton and his comrades found themselves subject to various emotions. They wanted to laugh at what was, to them, naturally, the folly of the Martians in believing the green men to be gods. They wanted to find out some way of proving to Hoomri that the thing was impossible. And they wanted, more than anything else, to find out how much truth there was in Hoomri's belief, based upon the signs made by the green men, that the visitants were from the Moon of Mars.
"The Fambians know all there is to be known about the people on the planet," Appleton said. "And since Hoomri says that those people are not Woodans, we've got to believe that they came from outside."
"In which there's nothing remarkable," said Teddy Craig. "We came, you know."
"Of course," rapped Appleton. "I'm not suggesting it's impossible. Given life upon any planet there's no reason to suggest the impossibility of anything. Look at the Martians! They are in many respects more highly developed than the people of the earth! They're an older race—and their world is older. In fact, the scientists of earth have thought for years that Mars is a dying world—and that's one of the things I want to prove or disprove. What a story we'd have to tell the earth if only we could get in touch again!"
He was manipulating the wireless as he spoke, trying to span the vast void and to resume the connexion that had been broken off so dramatically by the mysterious disappearance of the earth from its wonted place in the heavens. But nothing happened—no answer came from Beyond. The earth was lost to Mars—and Mars was lost to the earth.
"I'm going to enlist the aid of Hoomri's wise men," Appleton said at last. "I'm going to tell them what has happened and get them to search the heavens for the earth. It will be like looking for a new star, and once we manage to 'place' it I can calculate distance and adjust the wireless accordingly. It will be a case of constant nightly vigil. Horsman, while I'm interviewing the wiseacres, go and have a look over one of the machines that were brought down during the fight."
"Right oh!" said Horsman. "Come along, fellows."
Out in the almost ruined city they found near the lake one of the aeroplanes which numbers of Shangas were busily engaged upon, collecting the broken parts. Horsman, with all an aviator's keen enthusiasm, fell to an examination of it, a work with which the Shangas did not interfere, chiefly, no doubt, because they had admiration for the earth-men who had contributed to the defeat of the enemy.
The net result of the examination was that Horsman confessed himself to be in the presence of a flying machine different from any he had seen before. Smashed though it was it was still workable in many respects.
"My hat!" Horsman exclaimed, as he pulled a bent lever, and the widespread wings folded up and the whole machine became more or less a replica, though smaller, of the Marsobus. "That's some idea! It looks as though for long distances this thing was adapted to go without the aid of wings, like our own! Let's have a look over it!"
He reversed the lever and the planes spread out again; the adventurers got inside, and Horsman and Mackenzie, with the eyes of practical engineers, examined the interior, to find that there was a small motor, driven from a box which they could not open, but from which there ran a piston-like affair, ratchet-shaped at the end, fitting into a driving wheel that evidently worked the propeller. Appleton it was who solved the problem—Appleton who arrived at that moment, having been unable to get the wise men who were busy with Hoomri.
"What is it?" he asked Horsman, who told him what he had discovered about the machine. "Sounds very much like radium," he went on. "What's that handle for, Horsman?" pointing to a lever on top of the box.
"Don't know," said Horsman, pulling it, and instantly there was a soft purring, broken by a sudden screech, as the ratchet on the end of the piston was ripped off. "The wretched thing must have become out of gear," he said, "and it's ripped off the cogs."
"All right, it doesn't matter," Appleton said calmly, "though it's a pity." He was looking over the box as he spoke and succeeded in finding what Horsman had not had time to discover—a hole that suggested a key.
"If we only had the key—" he began, and then saw the Shangas, who were still busy at their task of carrying the body of one of the green men. Appleton was out of the machine and over to them in a trice, and a few minutes later was back with his companions.
"Bit of luck," he said with a grin. "That 'Evil One' was evidently the fellow who looked after the engine, for in a pouch of his coat I found—this!" And he held up a small key. "Looks as though it might fit!"
It did, for when he tried it it turned, and the back portion of the box opened, to show, in a crystal case, a speck of something that caused Appleton to exclaim:
"I thought so—it's radium, for a certainty. Pull that lever again, Horsman!"
The airman did so, and on the side in which, as Appleton's quick eyes had shown him, the piston end was fitted, a tiny crystal door slid away, and the piston began to work.
"Simple, once you've got your radium," Appleton said. "And I guess It's much more effective as a motive power than my own stuff. And these fellows had a much easier task than we had. Phobos—if they did come from that moon—is only about 3,700 miles from Mars, not such a terrific journey as ours!"
"Lordie!" exclaimed Horsman. "It's not even like going from England to Australia! But, I say, look at these guns, and this must be one of those fire balls!"
He was stooping over a round object that was lying beneath a "gun"—if it could be called a gun at all. It was a part of the "hull" of the machine, propelled by a little engine, and looked for all the world like one of those pneumatic affairs that are used in big stores to send money and cheques to the cashiers' box.
There were, however, some amazing adjuncts to it that, unfamiliar in design as they were, Horsman voted to be sighting and range-finding apparatus. "Going to try this shot!" the airman said as he picked up the ball-like thing, but Appleton stopped him.
"Don't be a fool!" he said. "You'd make a mess of something or other, and—Hallo! What's that?"
Horsman had, scarcely knowing what he was doing, touched a portion of the mechanism of the gun; there was a sudden ripping sound, and outside there came the sound of scattering people, shouting as they went. Appleton sprang out of the machine, and saw, looking weirdly brilliant even in broad daylight, a glowing ball, growing brighter as it sped straight down the street towards the shimmering lake.
"My hat! I've done it!" the airman almost screamed, then wellnigh sobbed with relief as, with a hiss and a great uprising of steam, the ball went into the water.
"A narrow escape from trouble," Appleton said quietly. "That might have caused all manner of difficulties if it had done any damage. It should be safe to open the 'gun' now and have a look," which he did on reentering the machine, to find a skin-like bag left behind—a bag that was exactly like that enveloping the "shot" that lay beneath the "gun."
"Strips itself as it is fired," the Professor said. "We'd better warn these Shanga fellows to be careful of the things."
He stepped inside and hailed the Shangas, who had now returned, and in a few words explained to them the necessity for care.
"I think we might ask Hoomri to give us one of these machines—the best one, sir," Mackenzie said after a while. "It might come in useful to us, if anything happened to the old bus!"
"That's not a bad idea, Mac," Appleton agreed. "I'll see his mightiness about it later on. Meanwhile, what I'm worried about is that the mysterious happening that has thrown the earth out of our ken looks as though it may prevent our going on a tour of exploration that I wanted to make now that we know sufficient of the language to ask questions intelligently. It's only if the wise men will do the hunting of the heavens that we can go, otherwise we'll have to hang around until something happens. Hoomri sent me out word that I could see them within an hour, so I'd better get back. You lot can please yourselves what you do, though it might be as well, Horsman, if you went over and had a look at the bus to see if she's quite all right after last night."
"Right!" Horsman agreed, and he and the rest, leaving the smashed machine, made their way towards the lake, and so across to the house of the Marsobus. Although they found nothing the matter with the bus, it took them several hours to give her a general clean up, especially the machine-guns, and to test the propeller to see if it had been injured in the encounter with the monster of the Martian deep. By the time all was done, they were feeling famished and ready to go back to their quarters, to do which they recrossed the lake, landing within a stone's throw of Hoomri's palace. It was twilight now, or as near twilight as was possible on Mars, since the nature of the atmosphere made twilight, as known on earth, practically impossible.
The adventurers were just landing, when, of a sudden, there came the sharp, then stifled cry of a woman; and, swinging round as with one mind, the four men wellnigh crowded one another into the water in their haste to see what was happening. Dim, shadowy shapes were what they saw, moving along the water-wall, to drop a moment or so later down into what, by the immediate purr that came up, the adventurers realized was one of the Martian small craft.
"Come on, young Craig!" exclaimed Horsman, as he sprang for the boat they themselves had just left. "No, you others needn't come. We'll see to this, and if there's anything doing we don't want weight—see!" And even as he finished speaking, the boat, into which Teddy had dropped after him, was moving off.
"By Scottie," exclaimed Mackenzie, "the youngster's a verra knight errant. Come on, Ashby, let's go and see what 'twas up there." And he raced towards the spot where the vague figures had been seen. When he arrived, with Ashby hard upon his heels, it was to see nothing; and to hear what they judged to be Horsman's boat ripping away northward up the canal.
"Now, what're we goin' to do, Ashby, mon?" Mackenzie asked. "An' what's happening, onyway?"
"As for the latter question, ask me another," was Ashby's reply. "For the first, I allow it's our best plan to hike back to the palace, and tell the Chief what's happened as far as we know it—namely, that our two young friends, the fools, have gone on a hunt of somebody they don't know whom?"
"Verra good suggestion," said Mackenzie. And the pair trooped off to find Appleton, who, when he saw them alone, immediately asked what had happened to Horsman and Craig. He was told, and looked pretty serious when he heard.
"The young asses," he said. "I've told them—told you all—that we're not mixing up in any private affairs in this show—and you can bet that's all this is. Probably a man having a row with his wife, or something like that, and—Hallo, here's Hoomri again. I've only just left him, and I've fixed up things for our trip and the observations while we're gone. O Mighty Hoomri—" He broke off as he saw the much-concerned face of the Martian. "It would seem by your face that there is more trouble and—"
"Trouble indeed!" was the king's reply.
"The Evil Ones from the Groves of Death broken out?" Appleton could not help but ask, but Hoomri almost laughed at the suggestion.
"Nay, O friend." he said. "'Tis not that which troubles. I went back to my halls and found"—he was almost sobbing with emotion as he spoke—"my daughter gone!"
"'Eh, what's that?" Appleton said in English, and then repeated its substance in Fambian. "Is it passing strange, O mighty Hoomri, that the Princess Amabius should be from her room and—"
"Strange that her Shanga servants should be lying about the room, locked in a sleep that looks like death!" was the startling reply. "None saw the Princess go—none heard her go—except it be those servants whom it is impossible to question yet, since they see not, nor hear what is said to them."
"Drugged, by George!" cried Appleton to his comrades. "Bet you this is something to do with what you heard! O Mighty Hoomri, he went on to the king, I think that maybe your friends here can enlighten you on the thing that troubles. Tell him, Mac!"
Which Mackenzie promptly did, and King Hoomri, instead of becoming more agitated, seemed somewhat calmer, which fact the earth-men put down to the other fact of Horsman and Craig having followed whoever it was that had kidnapped the Princess Amabius. In which they were wrong, although Hoomri did not stint his praise of the gallant couple.
"Since 'tis by the canal they went," he said, "all will be well, for none can get past the first lock, to which even now I will send a message." And he disappeared instantly, gone, as Appleton understood, to have a wireless message sent to the men at the lock.
"Not quite a family affair, eh?" Mackenzie said slyly to Appleton. "By Jove, sir, if those two kids manage to pull the thing off O.K., it'll make his mightiness more than ever favourably disposed towards us and—"
"Perhaps get the back of somebody else up against us," Appleton rapped. "The less we have to do with things the better, so there. Now we've got to wait and see what happens."
Had Appleton been there to see, his little grouse would have been turned to applause. For Horsman and Craig, racing up the canal after the dim shape that skimmed low upon the surface, were having the time of their lives. Horsman was manipulating the motor, and Craig was steering, and the one thing that both of them wanted was the spreading light of Mars to burst forth so they could better see what their quarry was, although they realized that the light would also aid those they pursued.
"I'm scared stiff of the shooting thing of these Shangas, if it's Shangas who're in this little game," Horsman said. "If it's Fambians I don't mind so much, for I haven't seen one of the beggars do anything like fight or work since we've been here, and—"
"If it is a Fambian you can bet yourself anything that there'll be no killing," said Craig, remembering that Appleton had told him that he had learned it was against the religion of the Fambians to do any killing themselves, although they could order any amount to be done by others. "But why the deuce don't they shove the light on to-night? It's usually going strong at this time."
"Perhaps a part of the plot—if there is a plot!" Horsman laughed across at him. "Hallo! there's the girl's voice again, and, by hookey, somebody's gone overboard!"
There had come the sound of the woman's voice raised in terror again, then stifled back sharply, followed by the splash of something in the water. And Teddy, peering through the darkness, had a vision of something white upon the surface.
"Be ready to ease up, Horsman!" he cried excitedly. "I'll steer right for it."
"Go ahead, son," came Horsman's quiet though tense voice, and Craig steered straight for the white splotch in the darkness, crashing into the darker blur that proved to be the boat they were pursuing. A man was leaning outboard, and he was flung over by the collision. Craig and Horsman were shot into each other's arms by the impact, and the boat, which Horsman had fortunately managed to slow down, swung about when Teddy let go the steering wheel, collided once more with the other boat, and then, as Craig recovered himself and took control again, was out of the mess and making for that white patch once more.
"It's the woman!" came Horsman's voice. And Teddy saw him lean over and grab. "Ease up, Teddy!" But there was no need for the injunction, since Craig had brought the boat to a standstill, and Horsman was able to haul in his "catch." "Crikey, Teddy, it's Princess Amabius! Here's a do!"
"And here's another, if I know anything," snapped Teddy, swinging the boat's nose on to meet the oncoming craft with which they had collided a few moments before. "Hi—rap that fellow's knuckles, hard!"
Horsman half turned as he felt the boat rock, and his automatic, whipped swiftly from its pouch, fell with a crash upon the hand that held the boat. The man dropped away with a grunt, at the moment that Teddy, with dexterity, swerved the craft aside and so missed another crash.
"Shangas, by Jingo!" exclaimed Horsman, with a note of anxiety in his voice, for he was mortally afraid of what he called the shooting things of the little fighting men. "Now we're for it! If they'd been Fambians, like that fellow in the water—" He did not finish, for the other boat swept forward again, a fact which gave heart to Horsman, who somehow realized that the very doing of this must mean that the men in the boat were either not armed, or were under instructions not to fire—probably because of attracting further attention. Nevertheless, he decided to be on the right side, and, with a quick instruction to Teddy, he went to the side of the boat on which the man was in the water. Teddy, acting upon his orders, swung round and made for the man, for whom, on reaching, Horsman made a grab, caught, knocked on the head with his weapon, and yanked into the boat in such a short time that, as he told Appleton afterwards, "he didn't realize that things could be done so quickly and so well!"
"Now we've got a hostage," he said to Teddy, "I'll talk to those little chaps!" And he began to harangue them in their own tongue, haltingly, it is true, but with sufficient clearness to make them understand that if they persisted in their attack on the boat, he would simply settle accounts with the Fambian.
"And anyway, if you shoot at us, you'll kill him, too," he wound up, "so please yourselves. We're going back to the city! Swing her round, Teddy, and make her race like the wind!"
Round the boat swung again, and like the wind she raced as Horsman opened out. If they had expected to be followed by the other boat they were disappointed, even although agreeably so, for as they tore on they heard no sound even of a purr behind them. Not a word had either of them said to the Princess, nor she to them. It was only when of a sudden the night was turned into day and they saw, sweeping up towards them, almost a fleet of small craft, that the woman said:
"Thank you, O Strangers! We are safe now. See, my father has missed me, and his soldiers come."
"Happy to have served you, your Highness," Horsman said gallantly, and Teddy saw him flush as he spoke.
"Don't go falling in love, Horsman," Teddy could not help saying.
"Don't be a young fool!" Horsman said savagely, but flushing still more as he turned his head away. "Look, there's the Chief himself in one of those boats," and he pointed to where Appleton sat in a vessel that was churning its way up the canal.
As he spoke, Horsman stooped and grabbed the Fambian in the bottom of the boat. The man had moved, and Horsman was taking no chances. The man, when he opened his eyes and saw the light in the sky, seemed to realize that all was up, and he was not inclined to take his medicine without protest. He began to struggle against the hand-grip of Horsman, who, strong and agile though he was, found himself up against a stiff proposition, chiefly because of the cabin'd space in which the tussle took place; but also because of the strength of the Fambian.
A knife flashed up and buried itself in the thick of Horsman's arm. The airman yelped with the pain of it, but he drove a weighty fist into the chin of the Fambian, whose head thumped back on the boat with a force that rendered him unconscious once more.
A knife had buried itself in the flesh of Horsman's arm.
The airman yelped with the pain of it, but he drove a
weighty fist into the chin of the Fambian, whose head thumped
back on the boat with a force that rendered him unconscious
"Hurt—much?" Teddy shouted out; and at the same moment Princess Amabius sprang towards Horsman, ripping the white silk robe that she wore.
"You are hurt—for my sake!" she said softly, and, despite the protests of Horsman, who had taken off his tunic to see what sort of wound he had got, proceeded to bind the arm which, after all, was not very seriously injured, the steel having glanced off. She had just finished when the Fambians' boat came racing alongside, and Appleton yelled out:
"What's happened? Got her, then?"
"Ay, sir!" Horsman told him. "As large as life, and one of the fellows who were in on the little game."
"Good for you!" Appleton said, but his voice was drowned in the roar of Shanga voices as the little men saw the Princess.
Hurriedly, Horsman told of what had happened, and scarcely before he had finished a batch of the boats went racing up the canal, questing for the craft holding the Shangas who had been involved in the plot, whatever might be its character.
Meanwhile, the remainder made off down the canal to reach the city where, on the quay, Hoomri himself was waiting. On landing Amabius threw herself into his arms, and volubly explained what had happened.
"I thank you, O Friends!" Hoomri said to Horsman and Craig when the tale was ended; while Appleton, looking at the Princess, caught something in her eyes as she watched Horsman that made him mutter:
"Phew—if the lady falls in love with friend Horsman, I can see trouble a lot sticking out!"
"O Mighty Hoomri!" Horsman said. "We have done that which any man would do for his friends in time of need."
At this moment the Shangas hauled up the Fambian whom Horsman had captured; and at sight of him Hoomri's face went livid with rage.
"Draco!" he cried. "Draco the Traitor! Bind him! To-morrow shall the voice of wisdom pronounce his doom—the doom from which he shall not escape again to worry the House of Hoomri!"
"A story behind the story!" muttered Appleton, as he and his comrades fell into step with Hoomri and his daughter, and so made their way into the palace.
"Listen, O Friends!" Hoomri said, when they were all in his own room. "Draco the Traitor I called that man who would have stolen my daughter. And traitor he is. I know why he came thus. It was, I doubt not, to force me to grant him pardon for himself and his House—for Draco was once a great one amongst the Fambians, until his thoughts rose, and his eyes looked enviously upon that throne. But the gods were good, and the plot was discovered. Draco and his House—every soul of his family, over one hundred of them—were banished, outlawed, to the Red Desert, there to live as best they could. And now he has come back to—"
"Kidnap your daughter in the hope, no doubt, of being able to treat with you," Appleton said.
"Is the Princess found?" a voice broke in at this moment, as a young Fambian rushed into the room. Appleton recognized him instantly as being the noble Spadu, betrothed to Princess Amabius. "I was away. I heard the news and have come back."
Hoomri immediately explained what happened, and while he was speaking Amabius was gazing, almost devotedly, at Horsman, who flushed at the constant reference to what he had done. As for Spadu, that worthy suddenly seemed to lose his ecstasy over the safety of the princess; there was a frown on his deep forehead as he simply glared from Amabius to Horsman.
"My word!" muttered Appleton, "the gentleman is jealous. There's trouble in the offing, Horsman!"
"Oh, rot!" rapped the airman, who had heard the whispered words. "But—the beggar does look wild!"
Hoomri finished at last, and Spadu's face suddenly lost its frown as he shook hands with himself and vowed his gratitude to Horsman and Craig for what they had done; but it was noticeable that his remarks really were addressed to Teddy.
"And now to rest, my daughter," Hoomri said softly, and led her away, leaving the adventurers and Spadu alone. The noble stood silent for a few moments, then opened his mouth as though to speak, seemed to think better of it, and finally turned abruptly and went out without a word.
"There you are, Horsman. What did I tell you?" Appleton said. "Interference is all very well, and I like to see a gallant knight; but, by Jove! you've laid up a peck of trouble if Mistress Amabius continues to cast eyes upon you!"
"Now see here, Chief," Horsman said, half angrily, half sheepishly, "let's drop that subject. You know it's all tommy-rot, except that I dare say the lady is a bit grateful. Mr. Spadu needn't be afraid I'm going to try to cut him out with—"
"Ay, man, but she's a bonny wench!" put in Mackenzie. "All well, ah well, life's verra like in most places! Now I do suggest that we seek our silken beds!"
"I'm going a-hunting for the earth first," said Appleton. They were moving towards their own apartments in the palace, and on the way he told the others more definitely what had been arranged. Hoomri had been not a little perturbed when Appleton had referred to the unexplained and extraordinary loss of the earth.
"The beggar's got the wind up," Appleton informed them. "The Fambians are the highest intellects on the planet—according to Hoomri, that is!—and their wise men—scientists, engineers, astronomers, and so on—serve in expert capacities almost every other people on the planet. But, advanced as they may be—perhaps because of it, for we know that even on the earth some of the most learned men have been easily taken in by superstition and so forth—the Fambians are exceedingly superstitious, or perhaps I ought to call it religious. You see how they behaved about those fellows they called Evil Ones. Well, there's something big at the back of Hoomri's mind. Our coming, as you remember, has been signalled by a heap of trouble for Fambia, and Hoomri tells me that there is a feeling amongst some of the people that we are the beginning of the end!"
"What the blue jinks does that mean, anyway?" Ashby asked, and the rest stared uncomprehendingly at Appleton, who, now in his own room, was smiling a little grimly.
"Just this," he told them. "The wise men of Mars have for generations been doing the Old Moore stunt of prophecy—end of the world idea, you know. The fact of the earth 'disappearance' is looked upon as significant, and somehow they've roped us in as a sign and portent, while the invasion by the 'Evil Ones'—by the way, I gather they come from Phobus, the Martian Moon, that is only 3,700 miles away—is another. The difference is that the 'Evil Ones' are looked upon as gods to be placated, while we, to a certain section of the important Fambians, are a menace to be got rid of quickly!"
"Verra nice, too," put in Mackenzie. "Are they going to cast us adrift in space or—"
"Not yet!" Appleton grinned. "Hoomri is worried, as I said, about the impossibility of seeing the earth. That has become a very important link in the chain of evidence of the soothsayers. I've told him that it is only an extraordinary natural phenomenon, which we shall be able to explain, and although he at first did ask when we thought of going—a polite invitation to 'get'—I've managed to prevail upon him to wait awhile before really asking us to go. There are those, however, who aren't keen, and it was only because Hoomri pressed the point of what we had done during the scrap—pretty strange how inconsistent the beggar is!—that they agreed to abide by his decision, otherwise—"
"We'd be chasing through space, looking for the earth!" exclaimed Teddy.
"Exactly," was the reply. "Anyhow, we're not doing so, and I don't think we shall until we've located the earth again. It's a pretty lucky thing for us too, this affair to-night—despite Mr. Spadu's jealousy! It gives us a greater call upon the friendship of Hoomri!"
"An' I doot not the little mistress would 'a' something to say to father if he tried any monkey tricks!" Mackenzie said, with a sly look at Horsman, who, however, took no notice. But if those men had only realized it, Mackenzie spoke a great deal of truth, as they were to discover before very long.
"Anyway, here's the position as it stands," Appleton went on. "Hoomri has agreed to our going through the canals—they're all connected, you remember—in one of the bigger vessels, with Fambian guides to show us all we want to know; and while we're gone the astronomers are to search diligently for the earth, which can be found, of course, by means of the charts and the fine telescopes the Fambians possess. Personally I'm going to keep on the look out myself, whenever opportunity occurs, while we're on the trip; but, after all, it's not worth while worrying, except that if we're doomed to stay here, we'll perhaps have a lot of trouble with the superstitious crowd. But we'll just live for the time being and the glory of achievement!"
"Hear, hear!" the others said fervently. "We're with you in that. Let the old earth go hang!" Horsman finished off for them. "Mars for me!"
"Mars—and Princess Amabius!" was what Appleton said under his breath, for it was not without a certain amount of trepidation that he understood how things were with Horsman, despite the latter's effort at nonchalance.
APPLETON'S several night vigils with his telescopes had produced no results, and, despite his apparent lightness of heart, he was actually considerably worried when, everything being ready, the adventurers embarked upon a ship of about a thousand tons, sailless, mastless, funnelless, but capable of going at an amazing speed with the aid of her sun-driven motors. Shangas comprised the crew, but there were half a dozen Fambians to serve as guides and mentors. Chief amongst them was Spadu, whose presence, it must be confessed, was not regarded altogether with pleasure by Appleton, or, for that matter, by Horsman. But the fact was that Hoomri had impressed upon the adventurers that Spadu was coming as a mark of honour; while to Spadu himself he had insisted that it would be a delicate compliment for him to accompany the men but for whose prompt and courageous action the Princess Amabius would or might have been lost to him. At any rate, the Fambians might have been in an uncomfortable situation as the result of her being held to ransom—the price of her liberty being, as examination of Draco had proved, the surrender of the throne to him! Incidentally, Draco, instead of being banished again to the Red Desert, had been consigned to the canal gang, chiefly consisting of criminal Shangas, but having also as members recalcitrant and lawless Fambians, who—greatest degradation for any Fambian—were made to work with Shangas as taskmasters. The work devolving upon the gang was to keep the canals in the territory of the Fambians in good order, dredging, widening where necessary, and generally safeguarding the fertility of Fambia, which altogether depended upon the upkeep of the canals. The Shangas who had been bribed by Draco to assist him had also been captured, and they shared his fate.
Whatever dislike Appleton and the rest felt for Spadu certainly found no justification in the manner of his coming aboard the ship, which, besides being a passenger vessel, also carried several of the small one-man sun-planes, and was fitted, as every vessel was, with wireless telephony. Spadu was affability itself, and by the end of the first day's journey along the canal he had put himself upon excellent terms, not only with Appleton, but also with Horsman—so much so that Appleton felt that he had done the man an injustice, and clean forgot all about what had seemed to him an unfortunate contretemps.
The ship, though capable of high speed, went leisurely down the canal, because Appleton and his comrades wished to have as much time as possible to see the character of the country. On what might be called the mainland, round about the City of the Island, the country had been cleared of the forest; but, farther away, dense jungle-growths covered the land, and instead of cultivated fields, practically virgin forest reigned. Mighty trees, of a kind altogether unfamiliar to the earth-men, reared noble-foliaged heads; ever and anon, as the ship sped by, there came sounds as of fierce fighting, which, as Spadu explained, were caused by monstrous animals. Now and again animals that, as Appleton said, were remarkable in their resemblance to the extinct mastodons of earth, and the dinosaurus, and other antediluvian beasts, appeared on the edge of the canal at what were evidently watering places, and Horsman, official photographer in-chief, secured some exceptionally fine photographs.
Except for the passage of the locks, there was, however, considerable monotony in the trip after the first week; the scenery was very much the same all the way along. It was, therefore, a relief when the ship one morning turned out of the direct route and pushed its way up what after a while seemed like a tributary running through, not jungle-land, but what was to all intents a desert district.
"How comes it, Spadu," Appleton asked, "that the country here is different?"
"You must know, friend," the Fambian told him, "that the main waters of Wooda run in courses that the gods of long ago made. Only around these was there life, and elsewhere in Wooda was desert, red sand, parched and dead, where neither vegetation nor animals lived. But through the ages men have carved channels to link up the canals, and always new ones are being cut. This is one that was cut while the winter was with us. Soon the waters will rise higher and overspread the banks, and there will be life where now there is naught. . ."
"A mighty undertaking," Appleton said.
"Mighty indeed!" agreed Spadu. "So mightily have the people of Wooda worked that it is possible to go all round this world of ours by water; and the canals belong to all Wooda—none claims this one or that. They are common property of the nations."
"Like the oceans of earth," Appleton told him. "There is a vast difference, though, between Wooda and the earth. The earth has what Wooda has not—rivers; but the earth-men have not, because there has been no such need to drive them to it, linked up the rivers of the continents as you have the canals. But whither go we, Spadu, now?"
"To the heart of Wooda!" was the amazing reply, that made the adventurers prick up their ears and caused Appleton to inquire the meaning of the words.
"Soon, friend," Spadu said, with a smile, "soon shall you know. He is a poor guide who reveals his secrets before time."
With that they had to be content, but that night Teddy Craig said quietly, as they sat in the cabin which was assigned to them:
"Do you know, Chief, I'm not at all sure of our friend Spadu."
"Well?" Appleton asked, with a raising of eyebrows.
"Oh, I don't exactly know what I mean," Teddy told him; "but, somehow, I've got it in my bones that he's not straight. There was a funny glint in his eyes to-day when he spoke about the heart of Wooda."
"Probably just the fellow's pride of his little old show," Ashby said easily.
"Maybe, maybe!" said Teddy; but he was by no means satisfied, and inwardly he resolved to keep a sharp eye upon Spadu.
But there are circumstances in which no man can keep "his eyes on" those he does not trust, as for instance when he is asleep.
It was exactly these circumstances that brought the adventurers into trouble before another day had dawned. Not that Craig was asleep at the time. He was just dozing off after tossing about in his silken bed—all Martian wearing apparel and coverings, etc., were made of a heavy silk of a nature that resisted the intense cold of the planet. The ship was as silent as the grave, except for the soft purr of the motor, strangely different from the peculiar throbbing of the modern earth-liner. He had been thinking again of Spadu and his strange manner, but had come to no definite conclusion, although he wondered whether Appleton was after all as pleased and as casual as he appeared to be over the fact of the noble's presence. He remembered how perturbed Appleton had been beforehand. It was with these thoughts running through his mind that he was dropping off to sleep at last, only to start up with a sharp intake of breath—an intake that was painful. Choking, gasping, with eyes smarting, head dizzy, swooning, a vague feeling of being slowly suffocated—such were the emotions of Craig when he tried to spring from his bed, calling out feebly as he did so. On the instant Mackenzie was awake, but instead of the big engineer calling out in his usual loud voice, he spoke feebly, as with great effort:
"Lordie, we're—being—gassed!"
"The masks, the masks!" called out Teddy weakly, and Mackenzie sprang to where the masks had been stored. Appleton, wisely as it proved, had decided that it would be just as well to bring them, since, whatever the condition of the atmosphere in the City of the Island, where the huge sun-plant of the Fambians provided the right atmospheric conditions for life, other areas of Wooda to which they might go would probably be very different. However, Craig managed to get up and take the mask that was held out to him by Mackenzie, who fixed his own in a moment and then shook the other sleepers. They were as though drugged, and Craig, within a few moments, after breathing the invigorating oxygen, was able to assist the engineer, who, realizing that the comatose men could not help themselves, was working as rapidly as he could to fix their masks on for them. Those moments were filled with dread anxiety, but at last the work was done, though the tension was not over, because for some time Appleton and the two others lay motionless where they were, so that, but for the beating of their hearts, they seemed like dead men.
AT last Appleton moved, and Teddy Craig sobbed with joy when he saw it.
"What—is—it?" the Professor asked through the special aperture that allowed speaking in the remarkable mask.
"Don't know, quite," Teddy told him, but explained what had happened. "Seems to me we should be dead but for your having brought the masks."
"Listen," said Appleton quietly. "How long was it—I mean if you were awake you can tell us whether the fumes came on suddenly or not. We haven't been asleep long enough for a rarefied atmosphere to have such a result as this."
"It came on suddenly," Craig told him. "Why?"
"There must be some explanation for it other than the rarefied atmosphere," Appleton said. "You fellows stay here. I've got an idea, and I want to see whether there's any sense in it."
He went out of the cabin, leaving his comrades staring at one another, and they noticed that Appleton had quietly extracted his automatic from his belt and placed it in the pocket of his pyjama-jacket.
"Now, what the blue jinks does that mean?" Ashby whispered, as the door closed behind Appleton.
"Heaven knows!" Horsman said.
Meanwhile Appleton was moving quietly up the stairway and so on to the hatchway of the deck lighted by the very pale light of the small Martian moons. He stood on the stairs, head above deck, and peered about him. He could see all around the flat deck, but there was only one figure visible, and that was of the man who was steering. He was a Shanga, and his back was turned to Appleton, who got upon the deck noiselessly in his bare feet. Like a wraith he looked, as he moved towards the Shanga, and a terrifying one at that with his oxygen mask on. He reached within a few feet of the Shanga without being heard, and then the great ears of the little man caught the soft pat of feet.
The Shanga turned round sharply. His hand dropped from the wheel he had been holding—the ship lurched—came a guttural, half-smothered cry from the Shanga, who was evidently terrified at the sight of the apparition before him; and Appleton saw, even as he grabbed the man, that he was wearing a gag-like thing over his mouth.
The Shanga wriggled in the grip of the Professor, who, however, held him tightly; yet, despite the size of the pygmy, his strength was prodigious. It was the first time since arriving on Mars that Appleton had had personal experience of Shanga strength, although he had often seen the little people at work, and had been amazed at the evidences they gave of amazing power. Now, as he stooped down and held the Shanga in a grip that would have been sufficient to subdue the average man, he found that he had by no means conquered the Martian, who made a quick dart with his free hand for the radium-gun that he carried in his belt.
Appleton realized the seriousness of the situation and, reluctant as he was to do so, he knew that he would have to take stern measures. He made a second grab and exerted all his strength to force the little man to the deck. In the struggle the Shanga leapt up at Appleton, who had forgotten the seeming "flying power" that he had seen exhibited by the Shangas on that memorable night when the Marsobus had arrived and the adventurers had been taken to the dining hall of Hoomri.
The action of the Shanga was so sudden that Appleton was taken off his guard; the Shanga freed himself, and the Professor staggered backward. He recovered quickly—just in time to lunge forward and give the Shanga a crushing blow beneath the great round grotesque face—before the little man could bring his levelled radium-gun into action.
The blow saved Appleton's life, of a surety—and it dislodged the gag-like thing from the Shanga's month.
A hoarse cry of rage—of rage and something very like fear—escaped from the ugly mouth of the Shanga. Appleton, scarcely understanding the situation, sprang for the man, and at last had him on the ground, in which position he was when there came the sound of running feet; and, as it seemed to him, a score of hands fell upon him and dragged him off the inert figure on the deck. Strong as he was, Appleton found himself held securely, and all he could do was to bellow in anger.
Down in the cabin his calls were heard, and Craig, with a cry of "Come on, fellows!" rushed out, and so up on to the deck. Hard on his heels came the rest—and a strange sight met their eyes above. Appleton was struggling in the grip of a dozen Shangas, who had him supine on the deck, while close at hand was Spadu; and near by, too, were several other Shangas, busy, as the adventurers learned afterwards, helping the steersman to fix his gag again.
"Hold!" cried Horsman, dashing to the group which held Appleton, and at the appearance of more of the wraith-like creatures in the oxygen masks, the Shangas were somewhat unnerved. Not so Spadu. The sound of Horsman's voice seemed to have reassured him—he, at any rate, knew that these men were not ghostly visitants.
"Hold!" the Fambian said hoarsely to the Shangas. "There is some mistake!"
They dropped away from Appleton at that, and the Professor got upon his feet.
"Spadu," he said, and he noticed, as Craig and the others did, that every Shanga, and Spadu himself, wore gags. "Some explanation is necessary."
"I think so, indeed, friend," Spadu said. "How comes it that we find you struggling with one of our men—the man, indeed, to whom is entrusted the care of the ship which has"—as it indeed had, though Appleton had not realized it until then—"crashed into the bank and is held fast."
"I was expecting an explanation from you," was Appleton's quiet reply, and Spadu looked at him quickly. "How comes it that we, strangers who could not know, were allowed to go, for all you knew, without protection against whatever it is that fills the lungs with the fumes of death, while you you and your men, every one of them, have protection?"
"Indeed, friend," Spadu said instantly, "a mistake has been made. I gave orders that you should be told before you retired that we should this night pass through the Land of Death! Ho, there! Bracu!" and, as the noble spoke, a Shanga came speedily across the deck. "Did I not command you to warn the strangers what to expect?"
"It is so, O Mighty One!" the terrified little man replied, grovelling abjectly at the feet of Spadu. "But I forgot!"
"He who forgets the commands of Spadu earns death!" was the ferocious reply; and with an imperious gesture and a crisp command he ordered two other Shangas to remove the gag from the man—at his feet. The Shangas sprang to obey, and had, indeed, wrenched the gag off the man, when Appleton, with a cry, was with them, flinging them aside and re-fixing the gag.
"Nay, O Spadu!" he said. "It shall not be said that for forgetfulness a man died—when that forgetfulness affects me! I—a friend of Hoomri!—give back this man his life! We found out in time our danger—we are safe. No man shall die for our sakes!" Spadu stood silent for a few moments, as though he had been altogether taken aback by Appleton's words. Then, recovering himself, he said:
"O friend, it shall be as you have spoken. You are generous—generous indeed. The man shall live, this time."
"It is well," was Appleton's reply. "I am sorry for what has happened. I came on deck to see what was afoot—and saw the helmsman at his work. It appears that I scared him. He seems to have mistaken me for a spirit. He would have killed me but that I fought. Hence the way in which you found us, for which I am sorry. Sorry, too, that the ship has crashed into the bank and—"
"Say no more, friend," Spadu told him. "That we can soon put right. Out, men!" he cried, "and see what needs be done!"
At his words several of the Shangas sprang ashore, while those who had charge of the sun-motor and had come up when the ship crashed went below again to their work. The motor had been stopped at the crash, but when the Shangas from the shore reported that it would be easy to get the ship off by her own power, the power was put on again, the reverse action was produced, and, with another helmsman at the wheel, the ship began slowly to drag herself out of the hole she had made in the canal wall.
At last she was free and in the middle of the canal again.
"That's good," Mackenzie said to Appleton. "All's well that ends well."
"It is!" was the reply of Appleton. To Spadu he said in Fambianese: "Since so fortunate an ending has come to what might have been serious, we will back to our beds! But perhaps you will tell us how long it is necessary for us to wear protection against the fumes of death?"
"When the light comes again we should be out of the Land of Death," was the reply. "You are sure, friend, that your own masks are quite suitable?" He was looking with evident curiosity at the oxygen masks of the adventurers. "If not, there are those that Bracu was to have given you."
"Should take 'em, Chief?" came Mackenzie's voice. "Never know—might be useful."
"Good idea, that," Appleton answered him in English. "I thank you, Spadu," he turned to the Fambian. "Ours have proved suitable so far, but perhaps it would be as well to have yours, too!"
The result was that when, everything being apparently settled amicably and the ship going along the canal again, the adventurers went below to their cabin, they each had one of the gag-like affairs.
"It's a rummy affair," said Appleton, as he examined his gag reflectively and smelt it. "The things have evidently some kind of antidote to the fumes, which, I suppose, come from some kind of vegetation—I'll find out later. But for the evidence of that wretched Shanga, I'd have sworn that the thing had been planned by Spadu to bring about our death. I honestly don't trust the fellow—and I'm going to watch him as a cat watches a mouse."
"But, lordie!" said Mackenzie, "if the beggar wanted to kill us he could do so quite easily."
"He'd have to explain to Hoomri," Appleton said. "If it happened, as he probably hoped it would happen to-night, he could have found an explanation—probably said we refused to wear our gags and wore our own masks. Anyway, I'm watching Mr. Spadu henceforth! Meanwhile, I'm going to sleep, although this mask is uncomfortably hot! Good night, again!"
With the break of dawn the ship, as Spadu had said would be the case, had passed out of the zone that held such danger as had nearly caught the adventurers in its choking toils; and when they went on deck, it was to see the Martians free of their gags. Appleton's inquiries elicited the information that the cause of the poisoned atmosphere was that the country thereabout was densely covered with jungle and marsh, where grew noxious plants that exuded, at night only, fumes that poisoned. No animal life was there at all; the place was, indeed, the "Land of Death," and was used by the Fambians and two other nations, whose countries bordered the wild jungle, as a place of execution. Criminals who had earned the death penalty were brought up the canal by ship, landed without protective gags, and left there to die.
The adventurers shuddered as they heard the story, and looked back to the coppery mass that was the jungle through which they had passed.
"That's a horrible thing!" Craig said.
"Death is always horrible." Appleton told him. "After all, is that way of execution worse than our own? I want to know why Spadu came this way at all—and at night time, when apparently it is safe to pass through during the day? However—there's that fellow Bracu—" He broke off as the Shanga who had been condemned to death, and then saved by Appleton, appeared on the deck. He was standing looking at the adventurers with as near a kindly look upon his hideous face as was possible to a Shanga. He moved away immediately he saw that he had been noticed, and the adventurers forgot all about him, because just then the ship swept round a great bend of the canal, and there was revealed to them the sight of a canal gang at work.
Spadu, who had come on deck at this moment, explained that a new connexion, to link up the country through which they were now passing, inhabited by a people called Limburians, or the White-haired, and that inhabited by the Simurs, or the Shepherds, was being built.
The ship had to hove to at this point, and Appleton and his comrades were more than interested in watching the canal gang at work. This gang did not consist of the Shangas who were the slaves of the Fambians, but of white-haired men, tall, broad, with long arms that hung loosely from the body, more like those of a gorilla.
"Limburians," Spadu said.
They had cut a long portion of the new canal, leaving a stretch of solid land near the main canal to be opened up when the job was ready for the water to flow in, and what interested the earth-men most were the implements being used.
There was a machine that was burning a way through the soil, which was dissipated as the nozzle of the apparatus, used as a hose, emitted a stream of vivid fire; and Appleton, scientific enthusiast, just stared and stuttered.
"Great!" he managed to get out at last. "They've done with earth what we've succeeded in doing with steel by oxy-acetylene. How does it work, Spadu?" He turned to the Fambian.
"We of Wooda call it freena," was the reply. "It is the essential property of the atmosphere and—"
"Oxygen!" was the exclamation of Appleton. "We on earth call it oxygen, and by it and another thing we burn away the hardest metals, even as you burn away the soil, but we have not done that yet!"
"Our scientists have found it possible to get freena not only from the atmosphere, but from metals out of the ground. Ages ago, so it is said, a wise man discovered freena in the air and extracted it. Its use and value were such that all over Wooda the people were extracting freena from the air, and thousands died.
"I should think so," exclaimed Appleton. "The amazing thing is that we of earth have lived here so long without the masks that we brought, because our wise men have always said that our kind could not live here, since there was so little oxygen in the atmosphere."
"Friend," Spadu said, "it is not surprising, because all over Wooda there are huge plants that drive currents of freena through the air. Not always has it been so; only since that wise man discovered the way to extract freena from metals. Then was it learned that the more freena there was, the better was life, the quicker did the fields fill with food, the bigger did the animals grow; and so Wooda now lives by the aid of freena driven about by the great sun-plants. And, the same freena that gives life burns, as you see it. . . . Wooda has harnessed the dread force!"
Even Appleton was filled with admiration of the scientific, ingenuity revealed by what Spadu said, and he could only watch the results of the ceaseless stream of fire escaping from the nozzle of the "drill." There was, however, something else to see: the stone-making, stone-laying machine that followed the drill. Sands from the neighbouring desert and, as Appleton knew must be the case, something in the nature of cement, were sifted through a long pipe that apparently moved in step, as it were, with the machines, which fashioned them into blocks, two at a time, quite twenty feet square, which were immediately laid and fixed into position without hands touching them. It was a miracle of engineering achievement, and Appleton gave up wondering, as he had long been wondering, how the Martians had cut their monster artificial connexions for the main natural canals. He also understood, as he had not done before, how the Martians built their tremendous buildings, which were covered with a coating of gold. Here and there, on the trip along the canals, other cities had been passed but, for some reason or other, not visited: but they had all had the same characteristics of massive structure combined with architectural beauty and a lavish display of metal, so that the buildings gave the impression of being metal edifices.
Appleton, all through the voyage, had been keeping a detailed diary and marking, on large-scale charts of Mars that he had brought with him, the thousand and one items of information that would prove valuable to the scientists of earth—if ever the information could be got to them. Working by Professor Lowell's globe of Mars, Appleton calculated that the Marsobus had landed on the planet at the place marked Skodra; this and the country around he renamed Fambia. The trip along the canal had brought him to within a few miles of Bathys, and when the ship passed the place where the new canal was being constructed, and Bathys actually was reached, Spadu informed him that the city in the lake there—vaster even than that at Fambia—was the chief place of the Limburians. The Land of Death was located between Glaucus and Bathys.
"Here we will stay awhile," Spadu said, "and afterwards continue our journey to the heart of Wooda, which lies there!" And he pointed down a great canal that led out of the lake of Bathys.
The reception of the Fambians by the Limburians was remarkable for the fact that they had evidently been expected, and a great welcoming ceremony was carried out. As the adventurers learned later, Spadu was a political emissary on an official visit, the object of which was to cement into a definite alliance the Limburians and the Fambians. From the military point of view they were both so strong that they were a constant menace to each other, while the vision that Hoomri had was of an alliance that should subdue the whole of the rest of Wooda.
When the ship came to anchor at the quayside a gorgeous multitude was to be seen awaiting it. Somewhere, unseen, a band was playing, and the adventurers know that it was one of the mechanical bands of the Martians, who even in their pleasures believed in the elimination of labour—a fact with which Appleton had been impressed wherever he had been and whatever he had seen. Away back in Fambia he had seen such a band. One side of the ceremonial hall of Hoomri was nothing more nor less than a mechanical orchestra—not, let it be said, on the principle of the gramophone, but with the actual instruments playing. Music it gave forth, and the most perfect music, with all the force of personality behind it, so finely adjusted was the mechanism that worked wind and string instruments very like, and yet unlike, those used on earth.
From the quayside at Bathys stretched a long avenue of festooned beauty, beneath which the new-comers walked on their way to the Hall of Renown, where Spadu was received with evident joy and given a seat of honour beside the High Lord Leenark, Chief of the Limburians. To him were introduced the earth-men, and it was evident that he had heard of them—how, Appleton easily understood when, after a moment of tense silence in that crowded hall, there came a voice that he recognized as that of Hoomri:
"He who comes in my name, O Leenark, is my trusted minister and represents Fambia. That which he says is the word and the desire of Hoomri, and on that dwells the fate of Wooda!"
"The wireless phone!" breathed Appleton to Craig, who was standing by his side and had jerked round to see where Hoomri was, having forgotten the highly developed wireless system of the Martians.
Leenark, sitting on his throne in all the glory of a purple robe and a spike-mounted helm, such as Hoomri himself wore, spoke in low tones in answer to Hoomri, and the globe-like thing into which he spoke was an exact replica of the transmitters that Appleton had seen in Fambia and on the ship on which he had travelled.
The assurance of the Lord High Leenark having been given that Spadu would be treated as an honoured guest, and those things that he had to say be weighed as became the words of Hoomri himself, the business of the conference began. It lasted for many hours, and Appleton had a new light upon the character of Spadu. He saw him as a diplomat and an eloquent speaker—and eloquence was needed; this matter of an alliance of one people with another was one to be settled by the voice of the people, or those who cared to attend at the conference. It was no case of a few chosen men being sent to make fateful decisions and the people being compelled to abide by them. All were entitled to hear and to object, to criticise, or to approve, even as Appleton, in the course of that conference, discovered had been the case in Fambia before Spadu had started on his mission. Spadu, when Leenark had outlined the proposition of the Fambians, got upon his feet, and harangued the gathered multitude, extolling Limburia as a mighty nation, painting the picture of the great vision of Hoomri. By his eloquence he whipped the Limburians into a frenzy of enthusiasm for the proposed alliance, so that at last, when Spadu had ended and Leenark called for the decision of his people, he received an emphatic and overwhelming vote in favour of the great alliance.
So ended the conference, and the purpose of Spadu's mission was accomplished. By means of the wireless all that had passed had been heard by Hoomri, whose voice came into the hall and spoke of the joy of Fambia, following which Leenark gave a feast in his great Hall of Delight. Every noble of Limburia must have been present, men and women too. The air was heavy with the scent of flowers; exotic plants actually grew in the place. Fountains played, music sobbed in the air; women, strangely beautiful, despite their characteristic white hair, danced fantastically and artistically while the feasters engaged in the more prosaic work of eating and drinking. Almost unconsciously Teddy Craig found himself comparing the scene with descriptions of the feasts handed down by the literature of ancient civilizations: of Greece, of Babylon, of Israel.
For long hours the function lasted, until the men from the earth, at any rate, were fatigued and wished for nothing better than to sleep. It was with relief, therefore, that they saw Leenark and Spadu rise on the dais on which they were seated—Appleton and his friends had been placed amongst the rest of the Fambians who had accompanied them and seated just beneath the dais—shake hands with themselves and promptly turn their backs on each other. It was the signal for the end, and within a very few minutes the Fambians were going, with their earth friends behind them, along a corridor that led them at last to the quarters assigned to them. Appleton and his comrades were given one great room, marvellous for beauty and structure, filled with golden furniture and containing several comfortable-looking beds.
"They do things in style," was Appleton's comment when they were alone. "What a congress, what a feast!"
"Ay, indeed, mon," said Mackenzie. "Meester Appleton, 'tis a passing strange world, this o' Mars, but a verra beautiful one!"
"You're right, Mac," Appleton laughed back at him; "but it's as cruel a world as the one to which we belong. For all their intelligence the Martians haven't lived out the primitive in them; they think of war and the dominance that war gives to the strong, just as we did. And—hallo, here come our traps!" as several Shangas entered and deposited the kit-bags of the adventurers on the floor. One by one the Shangas filed out of the room, and Appleton, who had not taken particular notice of them, looked up as he heard one of them—the last, as it transpired—say, in a quiet voice:
"Friends, sleep not this night!"
"Now what on—" Appleton began, then stopped, as to his amazement he saw that the Shanga who had spoken the words was Bracu, the man whom he had saved from extinction in the Land of Death; but, before either Appleton or any of the others could ask the Shanga what he meant, the little man was gone, and the adventurers were left staring at one another.
SCARCELY had the great door closed behind the Shanga who had uttered the warning to the adventurers that they should not sleep that night, than Appleton was across the room, intending to call back the man; but Mackenzie stopped him with:
"Wait, Chief!"
Appleton swung round with:
"Why, Mac? We can't take any risks and we ought—"
"To make no sign that we know anything at all," Mackenzie told him. "Don't you see, Chief, that Bracu would have stayed to say more if he had been able. It probably means that there's a watch being kept."
"Perhaps you're right," growled the Professor. "But, what are we to do? Wait here, and let happen whatever may be afoot?"
"We've got our revolvers," said Ashby quickly, fingering his automatic significantly.
"And a lot of good they may do us if anything is really intended," Horsman said. "Why, hang it all, these Martians have got us beaten to a frazzle in a score of ways. They could poison us while we slept and—and dissipate us into thin air without touching us!"
"That's what I think," Appleton said. "That's why I wanted to get hold of that Shanga." He spoke petulantly, as though he were annoyed at Mackenzie having prevented his doing what he had wanted to do. "However, it can't be helped now; we've got to make the best of it. Look here, in case anyone comes along, on the pretext of seeing that we're all right, we'd better proceed as though we knew nothing. Open your kit-bags and get into your pyjamas!"
They sprang to obey with alacrity—and to their astonishment each of them found in his bag something that he had not put there. In every bag was one of the radium guns of the Shangas!
"Now, that looks mighty serious," Appleton said, as he fingered the tube-like weapon. "It looks as though there is something doing and—"
"It looks verra like we're goin' to have a real chance!" Mackenzie put in. "Not just a stunt of gas or anything like that, but an attack, which is all to the good, for us!"
"You're right, Mac," Appleton agreed. "Jove, that was a good bit of work I did when I would not let that rascal Spadu kill Bracu! Now let's to bed!"
"But not to sleep, for me!" said Craig, with a shaky laugh. "I'm scared stiff!"
"Anyhow, we are warned." Ashby growled. "And I'll plug the first fellow who puts his ugly nose inside that door."
"You'll do nothing of the kind," said Appleton, from beneath his silken bed-coverings. "You'll do nothing until I give the word!"
"You're the Chief!" was Ashby's reply. "Heavens, but I'm tired and must not go to sleep!"
And to sleep not one of them went; tiredness, indeed, seemed to drop from them the longer they waited, so tense were their nerves. For hours, it seemed, they waited for something to happen: what, they knew not.
Hours that were filled with more dread than the moments when the real thing came to pass, for it came at last.
No sound was heard in the darkness. No movement was heard. Yet the moment came when every one of them knew that there were other people in the room besides themselves. Not a man of them spoke, but, instinctively, every one of them flashed on his electric torch—and the rays of light from them smashed into white splotches upon grim black monsters of men, clad in shining armour, and carrying huge swords that gleamed in the light.
Out of their beds the adventurers sprang, each of them with torch in one hand, and radium gun in the other.
"Who are you? Why have you come?" Appleton asked in Fambianese, but not one of the new-comers answered: though all advanced with a gigantic spring that landed them full upon the earth-men before the latter could do anything.
Craig went crashing down with an armoured assailant upon him—and his radium gun was knocked from his hand. Ashby, more fortunate, skipped aside and his gun flashed the terrible power that crumpled his man in a heap on the floor. How the others had fared Craig could not tell, because the rays of light were flashing hither and thither, revealing nothing, because of a speed that baffled sight. His own torch was lying on the ground near him and, writhing beneath the weight of his opponent as he struggled for freedom, Teddy suddenly saw that which start led him. Down across the beam of light fell two of the foes, but he had heard no shot—heard nothing except the scuffling of feet and the scurrying of men as though locked in horrible embrace. He sensed what must have happened; the radium guns of some of his companions must have been got into action, and two more of the enemy had been accounted for. Teddy longed for the grip of his own weapon, but the light of his torch lying there showed it not, and he could not shout for help, because the fearsome brute astride him was slowly throttling him. His own hands were clawing at the man in the darkness, but for all the good he could do Teddy might as well have lain quiescent. Suddenly he bethought him of his automatic and with a swift movement he had whipped it out, pulled the trigger, heard an inarticulate grunt, half of amazement, half of pain, as the man on him tumbled backward; at the very instant that the room was flooded with light.
Appleton it was who had found the switch that allowed the stored sunlight to travel along the exposed wires, and Appleton it was who, with radium gun levelled, sprang for the man who had fallen from Craig.
"Up, Teddy!" the Professor rapped, and Craig was on his feet on the instant to see his opponent lying on the floor near by with a hole in the amour near the left shoulder, but, with his right arm unwounded, about to snatch up the big sword that was at his feet. Appleton's leaping figure seemed to terrify the man, for his straightened up instantly, then cowered away before the levelled gun.
"Ashby—Horsman—Mac—how goes it?" Appleton asked quickly, and the three men answered chokingly that they were all right.
"Wiped—my—beggar out!" said Horsman. "At least, he'll never hold another sword!"—and Teddy shivered as he saw the black man lying on the ground without a hand to clutch sword or any thing else. "The radium did it."
"Same thing that's made a mess of these three other Johnnies." said Ashby hoarsely. "They're not dead, but they're good for some fine surgical experiments," he went on saying as he bent over them one by one. "Now, what are we going to do, Chief? Wait here and see if any other gentlemen wish to pay us a visit or—"
"We're going to—Good heavens, Mac, you wretched liar, you're wounded!"—this as Mackenzie staggered forward and then went heavily to the ground.
Craig was at his side in a moment, and, bending over him, saw that the engineer's pyjamas were soaked with blood, that one side was ripped from jacket collar down to trouser bottom; but a rapid examination revealed the fact that the wound, which was in the shoulder, was after all not very deep, and that evidently the Scotsman's swoon was occasioned by loss of blood rather than by anything more serious.
"Open my kit-bag, quickly, Craig," Appleton told him. "Get out the green bottle you'll find in the medical case there—force some of the stuff between his lips. Then bind up the wound—bandages and so on are in the case. And—Bracu!" he broke off, as at that moment the figure of the Shanga appeared as if by magic through what had seemed a solid wall. The opening was closed instantly, and the little man was inside. "Watch this fellow, Horsman!" Appleton cried, pointing to the black man over whom he himself had been keeping guard. "Don't let him turn round—better blindfold him. I reckon. Help him, Ashby!"
They knew what was in Appleton's mind; it was clear enough that the same thought was rioting through the brain of the Shanga for he had dodged behind one of the beds, and, being so tiny, was safely hidden. He did not want to be seen by the black men, and fortunately not one of them had seen him.
"Friend!" the little man said quickly in Fambianese. "Those men cannot speak and cannot hear, so we need not fear to talk. Be wise. Say little to the noble Spadu. Let him not think that you believe he plotted thus. He did plot—and I did hear, what was to happen; also, I do know that it was agreed between him and the High-Lord Leenark it should be told you, if these men failed, that they came of their own will, driven by the lust for the blood of men whose skins are white."
"What then?" asked Appleton. "Tell me, O friend, what shall be done? We cannot stay here like this!"
"Go you through the palace demanding to see Spadu, and tell him what has happened. He will tell you what I have said. Believe him. Those black men, if they be not dead already, will die, because they failed. But you will be told it is because they attacked you. Do nothing. The time will come, O friend, when vengeance shall be done. I, Bracu, say it."
There was a ferocity in the little man's tones that thrilled Appleton, but there was little time to wonder at what lay behind his words.
"Before you go," the Shanga was saying, "give me back the guns that you found—it would betray me were they seen!"
A sharp word from Appleton brought Ashby with the radium gnus, which were handed to the Shanga, who then said:
"Go quickly, friend, and find Spadu. Remember what Bracu has said!"
"Look here, you fellows," Appleton spoke at last, "I've got to be going to look into this matter. D'you think you can manage here while I'm gone? You'll have only your automatics you know and—"
"See here, Chief," said Horsman crisply. "I'm game enough to remain alone—and I won't see you go off on your own to goodness knows what! Take young Craig and Ashby—I'll manage by myself!"
"No," Appleton told him. "I'll take Craig, I think. Ashby will be able to look after Mac—the poor chap looks pretty well whacked. And listen—if anyone comes and wants to know what's happened, tell him this!" And he explained what Bracu had said.
"Right oh!" replied Horsman, who, on a sudden inspiration, was binding the wrists of his captive with a length of steel wire that had been hanging out of Appleton's bag since Teddy had ransacked it for the medicine case. "You can get along and bring Mr. Spadu here so I can punch his face! The skunk! Hang me if I don't feel like making a dead set at Mistress Amabius, King Hoomri's pet daughter, just to spite him! Ugh!"
Despite the seriousness of the situation, it was impossible not to laugh at the indignant airman, but the mirthless laughter was soon passed as Appleton and Craig, with a farewell nod, went out of the door, followed by the Shanga who had agreed, at what risk none of them really understood, to guide the two adventurers to a part of the hall where they would find someone who could take them to Spadu's apartments.
For what seemed an interminable time the three men, so strangely assorted, marched down corridors and across halls, the Shanga always keeping in the deeper shadows, always going forward as if to spy out the land, always coming back with the "All's well!" whisper to the others, until at last, he said to the pyjama-clad earth-men, each of whom held his automatic ready against emergencies: "Down at the end of this corridor stands a guard. He should be able to lead you to the end. I go!"
And he was gone like a tiny wraith into the darkness.
"Now for it, Teddy," Appleton whispered grimly, as they walked down the corridor—nearly scaring the sentry when they appeared suddenly before him.
"Lead us to the great Spadu!" Appleton said, mighty thankful that there was a universal language on Mars. "We, his friends, would have speech with him!"
Without a word, the man, recovered from his momentary fright, stepped forward, beckoning them to follow and within a few minutes the two were standing in an anteroom beyond which their guide told him, was Spadu himself.
A number of Shangas, sleepy-eyed, awoke, and one of them—none other than Bracu himself!—demanded to know their errand with his master at that time of night. The crafty Shanga had, as they discovered later, deliberately led them by a devious route so that it should not appear that they had been guided then by anyone friendly to them. He knew it was very unlikely that collusion would be suspected when it was known that they had first asked the way of a sentry so far from Spadu's apartment.
"Tell your master," said Appleton imperiously, "that I would speak with him on matters of high importance," and Bracu, having played his part well, disappeared behind a heavy gold covered curtain. He came back after a moment or so and beckoned the visitors to approach, which they did—to find themselves in the presence of his crafty lordship Spadu, sitting up in his magnificent silken bed.
"Indeed, friend," the Fambian said, with well simulated surprise. "'Tis a strange hour in which you come! And it must be of high import, the business you are upon!"
"It is, indeed," said Appleton, with great difficulty keeping his temper and restraining himself from springing at the nonchalant rascal who was sitting looking at him through half-closed eyes. Then, with Craig marvelling at his chief's self-control, Appleton recounted what had happened, and demanded some explanation of Spadu.
The Fambian listened to the story without a word, but he was scowling and his great, broad forehead was scarred with livid veins, and anyone who had not known, would have imagined him to be in the throes of a vile temper at the indignity done to his friends.
"By the Light!" he cried when the story was done, using a favourite expletive of the Martians, "By the Light, there shall be some accounting for this—this outrage—"
"He might have said mistake," was Appleton's indignant thought, remembering what Bracu had told him. He thundered on a golden gong hanging by the side of his bed and Bracu came in answer to its summons. "Go, slave, and say to the servants of the High Lord that I, Spadu, do come even now to have speech with him on matters of state!"
Bracu disappeared on the instant and Spadu sprang from his bed, garbed himself in a flowing purple robe, gold-decked and bejewelled, and passed out of the room, with Appleton and Craig following him.
"A most delightful hypocrite," said Appleton softly. "Keep your temper, Teddy, and don't frown so much. We'll scotch the beggar's wheels some day, never fear! We can't own up that we know, now, because that would be the end of Bracu!"
Down a long corridor again, and so into a magnificent suite of apartments Spadu led the way, to be ushered into the room where the High Lord himself was sitting in a golden chair. To him, after apologizing for the intrusion, Spadu explained what had happened and the Limburian's anger was fearful to behold. He too acted his part well—so well that anyone might have been deceived.
"The Nodars!" he said. "The black men of Nodar who hate the white-skinned—'tis they who have done this, 'tis your white skins that have urged them to it. Know you, O strangers from another world, that the Nodars thousands of years ago, were the rulers of Wooda—until a race of people white of skin like unto yours arose and wrested power from them. And every Nodar's tongue was removed; every Nodar who was born was treated thus and gradually a great, powerful people almost died out, until now there are but a few thousand left, people who can not speak and cannot hear; but in whose memories lies the story of what the white-skins did! There are no white-skins now on Wooda—or were not till you came. The Nodars shall suffer for this outrage on my guests!"
Spadu, the Fambian, denounces the black assassins of Nodar
For the second time on that eventful night a golden gong rang out, and several Limburian guards entered the room—to receive orders from their High Lord to go with the white-skins and to bring back, for a punishment that he vowed should be suited to the treachery, the men who had dared to violate the sacred laws of hospitality.
"WE thank you, O High Lord Leenark!" Appleton said, trying to seem as sincere as he could, and betraying by no look that he knew how little trust to put in the Limburian's words or deeds. "And I would crave that you do cause it to be known, by the way, amongst your black slaves that we white-skins are not of those who put out tongues, and that we come indeed from another world."
"It shall be as you desire," said the High Lord. "And my friend," he turned to Spadu, "I owe you, too, regrets that this thing should have happened to these friends of yours, of whom you have told me things that make me wonder!"
The smug Fambian professed to accept the apologies of the Limburian, and bidding his host good night, went out of the room with Appleton and Craig, whom he consigned into the keeping of the Limburian guard. These going by the shorter route, were soon at the adventurers' apartment. Entering, they stood and stared in amazement at the work that had been done by the white-skins. The gigantic black men seemed to be such monsters that it was scarcely believable that the smaller white-skins could have overcome them. However, the Limburians said nothing, they simply gathered up the Nodars carrying those who could not walk, and driving before them the pair who could, and so went out with Spadu, leaving Appleton wiping a cold, wet brow and in a fuming rage at his own wretched helplessness.
He became his equable self after a while and inquired of Mackenzie, now recovered, how he felt.
"As lively as a creeket, Chief," the Scotsman said. "Has yet kilt Meester Spadu? I hae heerd wha' the leetle Shanga said!"
"I haven't killed Spadu—yet!" said Appleton quietly.
"Ah, weel, there's plenty o' time," was Mackenzie's gibe. "But we'll hae to keep open eyes. I'm thinkin'. I've a thocht that 'tmight be a wise thing when we're aboard th' ship again, to seize it and to go back to Meester Hoomri and no pursue this journey o' exploration!"
"We're going through with it!" exclaimed Appleton. "Henceforth, we're not going to sleep all at once. We're going to have watches. And we've got at least one friend with us, that little chap Bracu! I'm backing heavily upon him, he'll let us in the know on whatever may be afoot, be sure of that. Now let's have a look at the shoulder. You other chaps tumble into bed. I'm keeping the first watch from now. I'll wake you later, Horsman. You'll be next—though there's not much longer to go before the dawn."
Nothing loath, Ashby, Horsman and Craig got into bed again, and were soon fast asleep. An examination of Mackenzie's hurt shoulder showed that the wound was not at all serious, and, redressing it, the Scotsman swore that he would be as fit as a fiddle next day.
The next day, however, brought with it some fever, and it seemed to Appleton that although Spadu had intended to be gone, it would be necessary to remain in Bathys for several days until Mackenzie was able to be moved. He had, however, an insight into the medical skill of the Martians. The doctor who was sent to attend Mackenzie dispelled the fever in an hour, and actually healed up the wound within a day. Nevertheless, at Appleton's request—and the Professor kept up a fine semblance of friendliness, biding the time when he could confront Spadu—the Fambian noble consented to stay in the city for a day or so, to enable the adventurers to make the tour of it.
The Limburians were cultured people; their literature was of a very high standard, their music, despite its mechanical medium, of wondrous beauty; their scientific achievements remarkable. Escorted to the great national laboratory, Appleton was introduced to wonders of which he had long dreamt, but had, even with him expert knowledge, believed would be but dreams. Here, light had been rendered invisible; here, too, the projection of rays had been carried to a point almost beyond belief; the great quest, on which the men of science of many ages of earth's history had been engaged, had been finished, and perpetual motion was a fact—rendered so by the disintegration of the atom, this being achieved with the aid of the stored sunlight.
It was the joint efforts of Limburians and Fambians—the latter being regarded as the chief scientific geniuses of Wooda that had resulted in this accomplishment, and the application of this miracle of man's ingenuity was evidenced in Limburia by the gigantic pumps that worked year in and year out at keeping the country round about well watered and so fertile, failing the action of which the land would have been desert. The oxygen-generating plants were worked by this same perpetual motion, and the currents that swept around Mars were actuated by the same method. The City of Bathys seemed to Appleton to be the depository of the sum of intelligence, and the wonders of it kept him busy far into the nights recording the facts, both for his own future reference and for the, as he knew, hypothetical use of the scientists of earth.
It was the discovery of perpetual motion that had rendered the Martians so unwilling to work—except where manual labour was absolutely necessary, and then, as we have seen, that work was thrust upon the lowest orders of intelligence, as though it were unworthy of men who had harnessed the mysterious forces of Nature.
In many other directions the Martians had surpassed the earth dwellers. Medical science was far advanced, and it had gone so far ahead that death from old age was not known; there were beings on Mars who were three hundred years of age. Cancer, consumption and a hundred and one other diseases to which men of earth were subject, seemed to have been wiped out, and that they had once been existent Appleton was certain as the result of his diligent inquiries. Preventive measures—in the shape of "positive" modes of living—were adopted; the doctor as a curer of bodies was not known on Mars, except, in cases where war and accident led to injury that no science could prevent. Even there the medical men of Mars excelled, transfusion was common; the grafting of new limbs even the insertion of new veins, presented no difficulty. Appleton himself witnessed an operation on a Limburian's heart that no man of earth would have dared to undertake; the valves of the heart were "repaired," and the patient, who would have been given up as incurable on earth, was completely cured within a few hours.
Appleton's knowledge of X-rays was as nothing compared with the knowledge of the Martians—he had found this so in Fambia before he reached Bathys—of the secrets of the penetration of matter, and, had he but known it, he was to have a terrifying experience of this before many weeks had passed.
Wonder piled on wonder to such an extent that it was impossible to examine all in, as it were, the bulk; Appleton realized that he would be compelled to study each new thing as it came to his notice in operation, for there was this significant thing to be noted, that every achievement of the Martians was put to good purpose and, apparently the accomplishments of any one people were placed at the disposal by some means or another of every other nation on the planet.
"Which same thing is a paradox," Appleton suggested on the fourth day of exploration of Bathys. "These people have a sort of communism of ideas, and yet have distinct national rivalries. We on earth have always said that if there be life on Mars, the people would be highly developed, and we have thought of a world of men who had outlived the primitive urge that has spelt a thousand wars. But here, with a people that has solved a hundred mysteries that have troubled philosophers and scientists of earth, we find exactly the same passions, the same primitiveness of heart!"
"Well, what's that to wonder at?" Horsman asked, quietly. "What about the great war—lordie, how long ago that seems! What did science do for the world then? I guess it'll be the same as long as there are men and nations. But say, Chief, when are we moving on again?"
"To-morrow morning," Appleton told him. "To-morrow we start for what Spadu calls the Heart of Wooda, and from the mysterious way in which he speaks about it, I suspect that he has something up his sleeve—something is not likely to be to our advantage."
FOR several days the ship purred its way along the canals, stopping, at various towns in the lakes, and so giving the explorers opportunities to make observations. The time came, however, when Spadu, who had been friendliness itself, said that they were to disembark and make a land journey. They had passed a long way down the canal that Lowell had marked Ambrosia on his globe, and the ship was at the quay of what was the greatest engineering centre that Appleton had ever seen anywhere. It was not on an island as other places had been, but stretched for miles along the canal side. Spadu explained that this, known as Dracola, was the international generating centre of Wooda. Here was the place where freena (oxygen) was produced; here were the mighty apparatus that kept the freena currents swinging round the planet; here too, was the plant that conserved radium—the Martians called it lalignum—and distributed it, and used it for the purpose of producing the oxygen so essential to Wooda.
"But surely the concentration of all sources of power and indeed of life, in one place, must be a weakness, especially in case of war," Appleton suggested, but Spadu smiled.
"You have seen," he said, "that the achievements of the wise men of Wooda are for all peoples. For hundreds of years men have dreamed of the end of all wars, but the dream has never come true. Despite that, this much has been done; the spirit of goodness that is in all, has decreed that the means of life, all those things which exist as the result of wisdom and knowledge, shall never be interfered with by one nation against another. Men of every people of Wooda are here; the wisest men of every people rule here, and if there be war, the work goes on for all just the same. It is out of this that some day wars will cease."
"A sort of League of Nations," Appleton muttered to himself. "But tell me, Spadu, whence comes lalignum?"
"'Tis to show you whence it comes that we make the journey by land," was the reply. He spread out a map on the table, and, pointing to a spot marked in red, said: "That is the Heart of Wooda—and it is from the Heart of Woods that lalignum comes!"
Thoroughly interested. Appleton pored over the map and presently spread out his own chart, which he compared with Spadu's. "Lowell's Solis Lacus region," he said to his companions. "And, see there, that's what he calls the Umbra," indicating a dark patch that represented many miles extent. "And there in the centre of it Lowell has marked something—but what it is no one knows—except the Martians themselves. It's marked on Spadu's map—I suppose that's the Heart he keeps speaking about."
A question asked Spadu confirmed this, but the Fambian would say no more about it.
"Everything is ready to start," was what he said. "Leave the ship here until we come back. My friends here, who knew of our coming, have everything ready to carry us across the sand—for between Dracola and the Heart of Wooda, until we come to the outer edge there, there is no vegetation. Just sand, and here and there rock that is made of metal."
It was with considerable interest that the adventurers boarded the mono-rail train that was to carry them to the mysteriously spoken of Heart of Wooda. To Teddy Craig, for one, the mono-rail, on which he had made several journeys, up in Fambia, had never lost its lure. Then, however, he had only gone about the city of the island, or at most, a little way beyond the lake; whereas now, the experience of travelling across a vast desert, barren of vegetation, with no animal life apparent, was something new. Despite the monotony of the scenery, he enjoyed it every bit, especially as he was allowed to wander about the polateral train just as he liked. Not that there was very much to see, as far as machinery was concerned, because, just as in everything else, the Martians had reduced the most complex things to the simplest. The motive power was—radio-activity, operating from Dracola; and all that the engineer in charge had to do was, if necessary, to stop the train by pressing a button that operated the spectroscopic leaves that were affected by the radio-activity.
It was the splendour of the train itself that aroused the admiration of the adventurers chiefly. The modern earth Pullman coach was a cattle truck compared with it. To all intents and purposes the traveller might have been in a stationary palace, both, for size and equipment, while it was possible to converge, by the wireless phone, with any part of Wooda.
It was this fact that brought about the clash of wills between Appleton and Spadu. The latter had been speaking with the High Lord Leenark at Limburia, and Appleton, entering the apartment, requested permission to speak with Hoomri.
Appleton had gone into the room of set purpose, as a result of what Bracu had told him a little while before when no one, not even one of Appleton's friends, had been present. "The time has come, O friend!" Bracu had said. "Spadu is arranging for the end. The train will stop this night. The light will go out, but you will be told that all is well. In the night, Spadu and those who know will get off the train, it will start again and go into the heart of Wooda!"
This news was sufficient to make Appleton decide that the time had come for him to adopt stern measures with Spadu, and it was for that reason that he had gone into the room where the wireless phone was fixed.
Spadu turned on him in an instant, and Appleton, catching the look in his eyes, realized that the moment had come, as he had known it must come, when he and the Fambian would be at cross-purposes.
"I have been trying to get on to the King," Spadu said crisply. "But I've been unable to do so."
"Let me try," Appleton said quietly. "I only want to pass the time of day with him. I haven't spoken with the King since we left—"
"I'll try," Spadu told him, and he pushed the button that should put him in touch with Fambia. For a moment or so Appleton waited, and at last Spadu turned to him with:
"I cannot get on!"
"I'll try," the Professor said again; and this time there was a firmness about his tone that made Spadu glance quickly at him.
"As you will," he said, nevertheless, and moved away so that Appleton could approach the ball-like transmitter of the wireless phone. The Professor did so, but, even as he pushed the button, there came of a sudden the sound of a voice, and the voice was that of a Fambian, as Appleton recognized instantly.
"I've got through!" the Professor said over his shoulder, but Spadu was not there, although Appleton did not know it. Into the transmitter he said, "This is the White Chief—" giving the name by which he was known. "I would speak with the Mighty Hoomri!"
Those were the last words that Appleton said for a long time. Suddenly there came a blast as of hot air, which almost blinded him, and which took away his breath—literally took it away, for it made him stagger, clutching at his throat only to fall heavily to the ground unconscious.
A moment or so later Spadu came into the room again, and there was a sardonic grin on his face when he saw that inert figure of Appleton on the floor.
"With the White Chief out of himself"—Spadu was using the Martian expression for sleep, the Martians believing that in sleep the living, conscious spirit was absent from the body—"the rest will be powerless. He alone is clever among them. If it were only that other!"
Spadu literally ground his teeth as he thought of Horsman, the man who had so unwittingly aroused his ill feeling and jealousy. And as if the thought of him had given birth to an idea, Spadu suddenly turned on his heel to a small wireless phone, and said to someone at the other end:
"Tell the white-skin Horsman that his Chief wants him down here!"
Then he went to the door of the room, slipping on his mask as he did so. There he waited tensely, with his fingers gripping a small phial that seemed to be empty.
Presently the door opened and Horsman stalked in.
"What is it, sir?" he asked, looking around for Appleton. "I—" he broke off suddenly as he saw the Professor's form, swung round and faced Spadu, stepped forward and then jumped aside as the Martian, with a quick gesture, threw the phial at his feet. There was a subdued explosion, followed by a rising white mist. Horsman, gasping for breath, tried to call out but could not. He was held rigid as though he had been petrified, and all he could do was to stare at Spadu, a vague form in the mist. Arms refused to move, legs refused to act, even the eyelids caught as they blinked when the low explosion came, remained fixed, and the eyes immovable could only stare wide open. Whatever it was that Spadu had used, it had acted upon the whole nervous system of the white man—the sudden intake of breath had been sufficient to produce the weird effect, while protected by his mask Spadu was not afraid in the least.
Appleton lay motionless. There was an explosion,
and Horseman stood petrified—unable to move.
He was chuckling grimly as he moved across the room, and Horsman, strangely as he thought, could hear him. Spadu slid open one of the windows and the rush of air carried the mist away, but it left Horsman transfixed, conscious but incapable of movement. Standing facing the spot where Appleton was lying, he saw Spadu move across to him, open the closed eyes, and the first bit of work that Horsman had ever seen the man do, lift the Professor as easily as a man lifts a child and carry him to the farther end of the room. There he placed him in a seat, fixed so that his unmoving eyes could see out of the window. As the room was in the front of the train, and on what was actually the second story of it, one had from that position, with the help of the powerful searchlight that threw its beams far in advance, a fine view of the country into which the train was advancing. Horsman wondered what was the idea in Spadu's mind in placing Appleton there—he wondered still more when the Martian did almost the same thing with him, except that instead of seating him he left him standing beside Appleton. But the airman might have wondered a long time without discovering the reason for the strange doings of Spadu—it was only when the Martian spoke that the truth came to him.
"Beyond lies the Heart of Wooda, that you have wished to see. You shall see it and none shall save you from it!"
A fierce rage burned impotently in the heart of Horsman, who would have given his tongue to be able to speak and to defy the Martian to do his worst. But the mysterious times anaesthesia that had taken away speech and movement, and yet left consciousness, held him in tragic helplessness, and he could not even turn and glare at the Martian when, with a chuckle, Spadu moved away and Horsman heard the door click behind him.
WHEN Spadu left the room where his two captives were held in the unseen bonds of anaesthesia it was with a determination to carry out his plans at once. His plan was that which Bracu had briefly outlined to Appleton, namely, to stop the train in the night, and while darkness reigned to slip off with his own companions, having set the wireless propelled train in motion again, trusting to the fact that neither of the white-skins knew how to operate the mechanism that cut off the radio-activity. The result would be that the train would rush on to the doom that Spadu had prepared for the adventurers, with hatred for whom he was consumed—a hatred that grew day by day. He had no fear that he would not be able to get his friends off the train without arousing suspicion, because he had craftily placed the adventurers in the second story where they could not hear or see anything that it was wished to conceal from them. If perchance they were awakened by the sudden cessation of motion, Spadu's plan was to tell them that some little thing had gone wrong, but that it would soon be put right, and then, while he held them in conversation, his friends would be able to get off the train, slip away in the darkness and wait for him to drop off as he started the train again, and then for all of them to await the coming of the train that he had arranged with the High Lord Leenark to be sent to pick them up, because it would be impossible otherwise to get back to Dracola across the inhospitable, waterless desert.
He went through the train and told his companions to be ready to get off very shortly—the moment, indeed, that the train stopped. Moreover, he arranged for each of them to find some reason to have a Shanga attached to him, so that when the moment came they, too, could be got off the train without much trouble. As it happened. Bracu was the one Shanga who could not be located, and Spadu was furious. He stormed about the train, calling for the little man, yet none could find him.
Had he but known it, Bracu had been on the alert for some time and had, by ways best known to himself, discovered what Spadu had done. The little man, the moment he had done so, raced off to find the Professor's friends, but he could not tell them of what had happened nor warn them of the coming danger because there were Fambians with them.
Bracu did the next best thing—and let it be here said that Bracu, servitor though he was to the Fambians, was a very important man amongst the downtrodden Shangas. He was, in fact, looked upon as a leader, and for a long time had been preparing the ground for a great revolt against the Fambians. The seeds of rebellion had been sown long before the coming of the adventurers, but the time was not yet ripe, and, of all circumstances, these in which he found himself just now were not the right ones.
Nevertheless, Bracu with a sense of gratitude for Appleton, who had saved his life, determined to make a fight for the salvation of his benefactor, and the outcome was that Bracu slid like a wraith along the corridors to where the Shanga engineer—a close friend, and one in the plot that was not ripe for hatching—was attending to his duties. To him he whispered what was afoot, and from him discovered that it was possible to stop the train at once, and to do so in such a manner that it could not be started again until very serious attention had been paid to the mechanism operated on by the radio-activity.
"Then do it—and now!" Bracu said, and the engineer agreed. What Bracu said was law.
The result was that what Spadu wanted to happen in his time took place out of time. The train suddenly stopped, the light went out, and instantly there was confusion. Appleton, conscious now, although unable to move, told himself that Spadu was putting his plan into action. Horsman, knowing nothing about it, imagined that something had gone wrong "with the works." Craig and the two others, up in the saloon chatting with several Fambians, also had that idea, and the Fambians, with the exception of Spadu, imagined that the moment had come for them to act, even although it had come a little earlier than they had been given to understand. Those who were ready to leave the train as arranged, did so, forcing the Shangas to go with them. The two men in the saloon with the adventurers rose and said:
"Stay here, we will see what has happened!"
"Take this light," Craig suggested, offering one of them his torch, which the man took. "Heavens, it is as black as pitch!"
The Fambian took the torch which Craig had switched on, and the two Martians went out of the room as Bracu entered by a door at the opposite end. Mackenzie, who had switched on his own torch, saw the Shanga but said nothing, as the little man pressed his fingers to his lips for silence. Then hurriedly Bracu told what had happened, and the amazed adventurers instinctively whipped out their automatics.
"Where's our Chief? And where's Spadu?" rapped Mackenzie, and Bracu told him where Appleton could be found, but went on:
"He will be all right, 'tis Spadu you must find. I left him with the engineer, who is vowing he cannot get the train to go again!"
"Take me there!" said Mackenzie quietly. "Teddy, and you, Ashby, go and smash in the door and get to the Chief. I'll attend to Meester Spadu!"
Off along the corridor Craig and his companion rushed, the white beam of Ashby's torch their only guide, while Mackenzie hurried off with Bracu, who, reaching the door from behind which came Spadu's voice, slipped aside. Mackenzie, who had turned off his light, pushed open the door and stepped in. His light streamed out again, and Spadu, with a low cry, swung about and found himself facing the stern-visaged Scotsman and looking into the barrel of an automatic!
Mackenzie gave him no time to speak. He just stamped across the room to where Spadu stood, and with an angry growl of "You fiend!" knocked him across the head with the quickly reversed butt of the revolver.
"An' now we'll take the gentleman away," Mackenzie said. "You do as you think best, engineer," he told the Shanga as, stooping, he lifted Spadu, and throwing him over his shoulder marched out of the room with him. His torch was still going, and the beam showed him as he passed through the door the figure of Bracu running down the corridor.
"What's doing now, Bracu?" the Scotsman asked as Bracu reached him.
"Go to your friends, everything is all right!" the Shanga told him breathlessly.
Knowing that he could trust Bracu, Mackenzie went on his way to the room where he had been told Appleton was, and when he arrived he found that the door had been forced and Craig and Ashby were standing beside the motionless figures of Appleton and Horsman.
"I've got Meester Spadu, the skunk!" Mackenzie said, putting the Fambian on the floor. "He can't speak for a while, but he'll just howl when he can. What about these two?"
"Their eyes are open, but they might be dead for all they can say or do, they are rigid. It's only that their bodies are warm that proves they're not dead," Ashby said. "We busted the door and found 'em like this. Bracu says that the effects of the drug won't go off for several hours!"
"Must be some antidote to it, and we'll make Spadu produce it," Mackenzie said to him. "But what's Bracu doing, and—hallo, the light's up!"
"WE'RE moving backwards!" put in Teddy Craig.
"And Meester Spadu is moving too," Mackenzie said, as the Fambian stirred.
"Now I reckon we'll have some explanations!"
Explanations did indeed crowd in on one another. Bracu, returning, said that everyone of the Fambians, except Spadu and most of the Shangas, had got off the train when the light went out, taking it for the prearranged signal. The moment he had been made aware of that, Bracu had gone to the engineer, who had repaired the "defect" that had thrown the mechanism out, and at Bracu's instruction had reversed, so that the train was now going backwards to Dracola.
At this statement Spadu, who had been lying still where Mackenzie had placed him, sprang to his feet, and Craig, thinking he was going to attack, sprang for him. Spadu, however, flung him crashingly into the side of the room and jumped for the wireless phone. Mackenzie strode up to him, and the Scotsman's big hand fell upon the Fambian's shoulder.
"What's the idea?" Mackenzie growled. "Any tricks and—"
"Stop the train or we shall all be smashed to pieces!" Spadu cried. "There's another train coming towards us and—and it can't be far away!"
"Very nice too," said Mackenzie. "Say, can you get through to that other train? Yes? Well, tell them they must reverse too—we're going back to Dracola!"
Spadu needed no second bidding—actually he was intending to do the very thing that Mackenzie had instructed him to, and within a few minutes he had spoken frantically into the wireless phone words that the Scotsman, standing by his side, dictated.
"I am coming back to Dracola—something gone wrong!" was what he said. "Go back yourselves—we're on the same line!"
He was a pitiable looking object when he turned again and faced Mackenzie, whose grip on his shoulder had not loosened. He stared from the engineer to the two still figures at the other end of the room.
"Now you've got to get to work at once, Spadu, and do what is necessary to bring our friends back to their senses! Quickly, or—" and he significantly tapped the pouch in his belt where the automatic reposed.
Spadu smiled and a light of defiance came into his eyes, he made no attempt to obey, and Mackenzie, standing not on ceremony, jerked him across the room.
"Get down to it, right now!" he said crisply.
"And if not?" Spadu asked quietly.
"Then not all the science of Wooda can save you!" rapped Mackenzie. "I give you just five minutes to get the job done."
"You will give me your promise if I do not to take revenge!" Spadu bargained, and Mackenzie, in his anxiety for Appleton and Horsman, said gruffly:
"All right, so long as you do what is necessary! Any tricks though, and nothing can save you!"
"There was no need, friend," came Bracu's voice, "for a bargain like that! In due time your friends would have recovered. You have been tricked!"
Spadu spun on his heel and glared at the Shanga, who, however, from being the servitor humbling himself before his master, now faced him defiantly, and his voice was vibrant with long pent-up rage as he spoke:
"The end has come," the Shanga said. "No longer shall the Shangas do the work and fight the battles of the Fambians! Know you this that out there in the desert those friends whom you have left behind are by now dead men! Ay, more; even now in Fambia the great revolt is taking place, for I, Bracu, spoke the word to begin!"
Spadu's face went livid with rage—rage and fear, and but for the restraining hand of Mackenzie would have hurled himself at the Shanga whose words had amazed the adventurers so that for a while they forgot the immediate purpose.
"My hat!" exclaimed Teddy Craig. "There look like being big happenings on Mars! Say, it's a good job we're not still in Fambia!"
"But I reckon we're just as much mixed up in the affair as if we were!" Mackenzie growled. "A nice kettle of fish. However, it must take care of itself for a while. Here, Spadu," he said quickly to the Fambian. "Get to work. I've given you my word."
Spadu grinned at him as he took something from a pocket. It was a phial, which he uncorked and forced between the lips of Appleton, then of Horsman. The effect was remarkable and speedy; within three minutes the two men, held as fast as though they had been shackled with steel, were out of their conscious coma, and Horsman with a swift action put a beautiful straight left under Spadu's chin and sent him staggering across the room.
"I've given no promise!" he said thickly, as he followed the Fambian, but Mackenzie jumped for him.
"Hold up, Horsman!" the Scotsman said. "My word was given for the lot of us, and, any way, we can cope with the beggar now we know where we are with him! Stop it. I say, you'll throttle him!" for Horsman now had Spadu in a grip that indeed threatened to put an end to the intrigues of the Fambian.
"Yes, ease up," came Appleton's voice. "I'll have any settling with the gentleman that may be necessary!"
He and Mackenzie between them wrenched the airman from Spadu, who stumbled to his feet mouthing imprecations.
"Wait!" he said passionately. "Wait! You have the upper hand now—but it is a long way to Fambia, and there are men at Dracola who will take vengeance for all this! You have escaped from the Heart of Wooda—but," he shrugged his broad shoulders significantly, and shut up like an oyster.
"Better truss the beggar up," Appleton said to his companions. "Goodness knows what's likely to happen, and Spadu's got to be our protection; we'll hold him as a hostage!"
SPADU had submitted to being bound hand and foot, and there was a cynical smile about his lips, as though he were amused at the crude methods of the captors who had to rely on such foolish things as cords, compared with what he could do by the aid of science.
When this task was done, Bracu, at Appleton's suggestion, had the monotrain stopped.
"I want time to think. Something's got to be done," the Professor said, and presently he and his companions, together with Bracu, were seated in the magnificent saloon holding what Teddy Craig facetiously called a council of war.
"Which it may very well be," said Appleton grimly. "Now. Bracu, tell us all that you know, and all that you mean! I don't suppose it's necessary for me to say that we're deeply indebted to you for all that you have done for us, but you will understand that we are likely to be in an awkward position by being mixed up in anything like a revolt, such as you speak of. Therefore, let us know everything; we shan't frustrate your plans."
"Friend," Bracu said, "that which I have done is nothing but the payment of a debt, not just a debt that I owe you, but one that all the Shangas owe, because, slave though I am, slave though I was!"—he drew himself up as proudly as his ridiculous shortness would allow—"I am a leader of my people. For ages the Shangas have been slaves; Shangas only have died for Fambia! Those strutting nobles in their armour and helmets fight not! For ages have the Shangas dreamed of freedom—the day has now come. When the Evil Ones came from the Groves of Death, I, Bracu, saw the opportunity, and while Hoomri feasted them out of fear, the Shangas plotted with them. We told them as best we could for lack of common words, in what light the Fambians regarded them, and this is what we plotted. One of their flying machines, repaired, was to go back to the Groves of Death, and the two men in it were to tell the Evil Ones there that the Fambians owned them as gods! Such was the story told to Hoomri; but we Shangas know that the messengers were to tell the story of a land worth conquering. More of the Evil Ones were to come, and when they came the Shangas would refuse to fight, even if ordered to do so by Hoomri, who, in his fear, was not likely to do so. Instead, the Shangas were to rise in revolt, and Fambia should henceforth be ruled by the Evil Ones and the Shangas!"
The adventurers listened in amazement to the Shanga's story, and Appleton found himself admiring the little man for his crafty scheme that was to bring about the emancipation of a downtrodden race.
"But Bracu," he said presently, "though it is a cunning plot, can it succeed? It is impossible that the Evil Ones can have gone back and have returned by now, so that your plan is likely to fail because your revolt has come out of time!"
"How else could I have saved you, my friend?" the Shanga asked simply, and the adventurers gasped as they realized that out of devotion to Appleton the little man had been willing to risk the failure of his lifelong plan. "I thought on the matter," he went on. "I could not get to any of you to warn you what was happening, and I knew what Spadu was intending to do. Therefore I had to choose between letting you go to the Heart of Wooda—"
"Look here," said Appleton quickly. "I'm tired of hearing about the Heart of Wooda. What is it? No—get on first, with your own story. I suppose the other can wait!"
"It was either the Heart of Wooda for you," Bracu went on, "or saving you from it by coming out openly with my plan. I chose the latter. I spoke to my brother Grodi at Fambia, and told him how things stood, and found out that my people were ready when the word came. The revolt would have taken place even although the Evil Ones had not come. So was it arranged to begin at once, and if all has gone well, Fambia now belongs to the Shangas!"
The little man's eyes lighted up as he spoke, and somehow his enthusiasm for freedom was infectious: the adventurers, who really had no part or lot in the affair, found themselves wishing that the rebellion might be successful. They even forgot, for the time being, their own danger.
"I say again, Bracu"—Appleton spoke after a moment or two of silence—"I say again that we're very grateful for what you've done; and now we know the whole circumstances, we realize more than ever what it has meant to you. As to your revolution—well, it's not for us to take sides—I'm sure you'll understand that! Hoomri has been a good friend to us, it is only Spadu who has been against us."
"The Shangas ask nothing of you, friend," Bracu said quietly. "Now it is time that we went back and fetched those Shangas who left the train with the Fambians."
"As you will," Appleton agreed, and the train started off again. It was while travelling back that Bracu got into touch with Fambia; and Appleton, who was with him, waited not a little anxiously to hear what had happened. It was news of a very mixed character indeed that was received—news that not only alarmed Bracu, but also worried Appleton who could see no way out of what was a very awkward impasse for him and his companions.
"The rising has taken place," said Bracu, "but it has not proved as successful as it might have done. We relied upon having the advantage of surprise and upon the Fambians, who are as I have said no fighters, not putting up a resistance of much account. Instead of that, it seems that they had some suspicion of coming events and there is very serious fighting going on. Moreover, the Fambians have told Leenark at Dracola what is happening, and the Black Skins have been sent, by the airships that carry a thousand men each, to assist Hoomri."
"What then is your next step?" Appleton asked. "It will be dangerous for you to go to Dracola and—"
"But I must get to Fambia!" Bracu told him. "And when we've picked up my friends I'm going off in one of the sun-planes that we carry."
It was obvious that nothing could be done to interfere with Bracu's plans, even if that had been desired; but the problem for the adventurers was what was likely to happen to them?
"Look here, Bracu," Appleton said, after a few moments of thinking about the matter. "Tell me, what is the mystery of the Heart of Wooda? What was it Spadu had planned?"
"Before I tell you, O friend." Bracu said, "I think that it would be as well if you got on to Hoomri, that's still possible because, as you know, it is a law of Wooda that even in war we do not interfere with many things—such things as that! Tell him what has happened, and ask him to obtain safety for you; he will be very angry with Spadu for what he has done!"
"A good idea," Appleton agreed; and a few moments later he was speaking with Hoomri over the wireless phone. The King of Fambia was furious when Appleton told him of the treachery of Spadu, and when the Professor mentioned the Fambian's latest plan about the Heart of Wooda, Hoomri said:
"I don't know for the moment what it means, because the Heart of Wooda is safe to approach in the ordinary way. Wait awhile, and I will look and see."
That amazing statement by a man who was thousands of miles from what he spoke about "seeing," left Appleton amazed, and he stood at the phone waiting anxiously and curiously for the information that he knew was going to be of a startling character.
And at last it came.
"I have seen!" said Hoomri's voice sternly, "and before I say anything more, I command you to keep Spadu a prisoner. It will be for me to pronounce his punishment! As to the Heart of Wooda, know you this, friend," Hoomri went on. "Beyond the desert of Dracola lies the granary of Wooda, vast fields where grows the food for the people; fields worked by the slaves of every nation, and whence the great mass of food is distributed. In the centre of those fields lie the mines whence is taken lalignum, and for so many ages have the mines been worked that there is a mighty hole, miles across. Down in that hole is the world beneath Wooda, where live and work slaves who have never lived above. A fearsome people, the Man-Brutes of Wooda. None dare go down to that nether world whose people do, as of habit, that work that has been done by them for ages. Neither dare the Man-Brutes come up: once they tried and the very lalignum that they mine was used to sweep them back, and the nether world became a world of the dead as well as of the living."
"And what was Spadu's plan?" queried Appleton a little impatiently into the phone. "What was he hoping to do with us? Have you discovered that, O mighty Hoomri?"
"Even that have I discovered!" Hoomri told him. "I have looked into the reflectorscope," and Appleton suddenly remembered what he had heard of the extraordinary device of the Martians by which they could see plainly even through solids, much more perfectly than was possible by means of the X-rays; and also at immense distances if necessary. From what little he had been told of it, and it was one of the most jealously guarded secrets of the Martians, Appleton believed it to be operated by some mysterious ray working with the aid of powerful lenses and reflectors. For the moment, however, the Professor was less concerned with the method or the device used by Hoomri; he was anxious to know what it was he had discovered, and he was listening intently to what the Fambian was saying. "The Wise Men of Fambia," Hoomri was continuing, "had just discovered it when I went to them, and they bade me look for myself. Know you that across the Heart of Wooda that which you call the monorail goes stretching across the miles of the mouth of the nether world, supported here and there where the solid rock still stands. The rail goes or did go there, ere Spadu's agents did their treacherous work, for before you came to speak with me, a great span of the rail had melted! And you and all with you, would have gone crashing down into the Heart of Wooda!
"Great Heavens!" exclaimed Appleton visualizing the thing that had been laid in store by Spadu. "The whole train would have gone on and no one could have stopped it, until it slipped off where the rail had melted!"
"Even so," Hoomri said solemnly.
"Thank goodness for Bracu!" Appleton breathed, and at the Shanga's name Hoomri said:
"For that which he has done for you, O friend, tell Bracu that I give him pardon if he will speak the word that shall stop this rebellion, for I know full well that he is behind it. Serve me as mediator, for the sake of the peace of Wooda! Bracu knows that at a word from me, the engineers at Dracola can destroy the train without even touching it or being near!"
"And I suppose that's why the little beggar wanted me to let Hoomri know we were on the train with him," Appleton said quietly to Craig, who had come to his side at that moment, and had heard what Hoomri said. To the Fambian, his statement was: "I trust your word, O mighty Hoomri, and will do all that is possible with Bracu!"
"It is well!" Hoomri said, and then there was silence for a while, broken by Appleton saying to Teddy:
"My boy, we've been saved from a beastly mess!" and he told the youngster what he had learned. Teddy listened quietly, then said: "Yes, that's just about what Bracu has been telling the rest of us. Mac nearly went and pitched Spadu out of the train when he heard it, but there was a bit of a row between Mac and Horsman, because the latter vowed that if there's any 'vengeance' stunt it's his!"
"Well, just, got along and tell 'em," Appleton said, "that there's to be nothing of that kind. Spadu is our salvation! Hallo, we've stopped!"
Bracu came into the room at that moment and said that they were near the spot where the Fambians had got off the train, but that they had stopped unaccountably before actually reaching it. Appleton and Craig followed him, and a few moments later the Shangas who had left the train with the Fambians, were aboard, but of the Fambians there was no sign. Discreetly enough Appleton asked no questions, and Bracu volunteered no information.
The engineer tried to start again but that proved impossible, so Bracu, his whole being filled with rage, declared that what had happened was that the Dracolians had cut off the wireless motive power that drove the train.
"Well, anyway," Appleton told him, "we can go on if you'll agree to what Hoomri has told me. It will only be necessary to speak with him to get the Dracolians to set us going again." Then he conveyed Hoomri's message to Bracu. The Shanga shook his head.
"No friend," he said, "this is a fight to the finish and the Shangas must win!"
Appleton tried hard to persuade him but Bracu refused absolutely, and at last the Professor had to acknowledge that it was useless to press any more.
"Very well, Bracu," he said. "It remains for you to do what you will. As for me and my friends, we have Hoomri's pledge for our safety. Therefore, you need not worry about us. What do you propose to do?"
What Bracu would have said about his plans had to be postponed, for just then one of the Shangas came rushing into the room with news that caused Bracu to give a command to every Shanga to come up to the second floor of the train.
"Another train is coming on the other line!" was the Shanga's news, and Appleton, dashing to the window saw the streaming searchlight of a train travelling from the same direction, "the Heart of Wooda."
"What's it mean, Bracu?" Appleton asked. "Probably that Leenark has spoken to the engineers at the other end and given orders to send up to get us—to get me at any rate, and to rescue Spadu. Somebody down there was in Spadu's plot, of course, else the rail would not have been smashed!"
On the second train came, at a terrific speed, and every Shanga was prepared for whatever emergency might arise.
Appleton suddenly realized what a futile thing was wireless control. It was impossible to move now that the engineer at Dracola had shut off the radium rays.
What Appleton had forgotten, until Bracu mentioned it, was that the Dracolians had, by the aid of the reflectorscope, discovered what had happened, and although Leenark had been requested by Hoomri to do nothing to injure the adventurers, Leenark had put his own interpretation upon the request and, purposely saying nothing about Bracu or Spadu, had decided to wireless to the terminus at the Heart of Wooda, and order a train to run up and take off Bracu and the Fambian.
This was the result, and the oncoming train, invisible behind the blinding ray of its searchlight, swept on at a great speed until it was alongside the other. Immediately a crowd of Black Skins trooped on to the veranda that ran the whole length of the train, and a Dracolian, garbed in the splendid raiment of a noble, stepped forth and called for converse.
"It's your business, Bracu," Appleton said, but need not have done because the Shanga was out on the veranda in an instant. Standing behind him, the adventurers listened to what was said across the several yards that separated the two rails. In effect it was a demand by the Dracolian to give up Spadu. Bracu merely laughed.
"Come and fetch him!" he said. "Send your Black Skins, if they will come! Listen, O Black Skin!" he cried, and Appleton started because he had been told that the Black Skins were all deaf and dumb; a moment later, however, he realized that Bracu was speaking so that White Skins and the Dracolian could follow him, and that actually he was addressing the black men by dumb signs.
"The time has come for the slaves of Wooda to rise and win their freedom," Bracu went on. "In Fambia the Shangas have already risen and Fambia will be theirs. Dracola can belong to the Black Skins—Black Skins who even now are on their way by airship to fight against the Shangas for the Fambians! Why should slaves fight together to give strength to their masters?"
The unexpected oration on the part of Bracu left Appleton gasping. The effect upon the Dracolian noble was to make that usually phlegmatic individual almost foam at the mouth, while the words seemed to have caused no little commotion amongst the Black Skins.
Those terrifying looking creatures, armed with the familiar pipe-like guns of the Martians in addition to their great long swords, and protected by their armour which threw back the light, seemed to wave like top-heavy corn in a summer breeze. Deep guttural sounds came from them, and as they moved there was the ring of metal against metal.
"My word, the beggar's getting 'em!" said Horsman. "They'll side with him!"
"Perhaps!" was Appleton's opinion. "Revolutions don't start in a second of time!"
In that the Professor was right, the Black Skins, unlike the Shangas, had not nurtured the idea of rebellion and as a matter of fact, their present agitation was caused, not by the appeal of Bracu, but by the sight of the white men with him! For it must be remembered—Appleton and his friends had forgotten it—that these newcomers had not before seen the White Skins, and although it had been only partly true what Leenark had said after the attempted assassination in the palace, there was some truth in it, and that truth was that the Black Skins were the sworn foes on their own account of any who boasted white skins. In the case of the particular men now conferring in their dumb manner, there was the additional fact that the White Skins were with Shangas who were enemies of the Dracolians, that much the noble had indicated. Linking these two things together, the Black Skins were scarcely likely to be influenced by what Bracu said, and the burden of their dumb consultation was:
"These strangers who are White Skins must be killed: that is better than freedom!"
And Bracu, who of course understood, was trembling for the safety of his friends.
"Quick!" he cried to Appleton. "Get inside," and the adventurers, understanding nothing about it, but realizing that what Bracu said was worthy of obedience, slipped back into the train. From inside they could hear Bracu speaking again and knew that this was for their benefit.
"He's telling them that we're not Wooda White Skins," Teddy Craig said simply. "That means—"
"That those rascals are roused by our appearance!" Appleton finished for him. "Get your automatics ready, fellows. Why we left the earth I don't know!" He laughed lightly as he said it, and all knew that he did not mean what he was saying—all knew that every new thing, whether of pleasure, of knowledge, or of danger, that they were experiencing, went down into that rapidly growing journal that he kept posted up every day.
Bracu finished speaking, and his friends knew that he had therefore finished his dumb-motioning to the Black Skins; then came the voice of the Dracolian, followed by a moment's dead silence. Followed a loud shout from Bracu, there were flashes of light that outdid the brilliance cast by the light of the trains, and darting forward, the adventurers saw that, swarming across the intervening twenty yards between the two trains, were the Black Skins.
"Going to board us!" shouted Appleton. "By Jove, we're got to stop this somehow!"
Fascinated, they stood, these adventurers from another world, for a moment or so watching the advancing Black Skins who outnumbered the Shangas and who were advancing despite the effective use by the little men of their guns. Then Appleton broke away and dashed to where Spadu had been left trussed up. He found him writhing in his bonds, evidently hoping to be able to escape while the affair outside was on.
The Battle of the Trains. Black-Skins attempting to capture
Bracu, the Shanga, and to rescue the traitor, Spadu.
"If you want to live, Spadu," Appleton told him grimly, as he stooped and picked the man up by the head while Mackenzie, now fully revived, lifted his legs, "you'll speak to the Dracolian outside and tell him to call his men off. Otherwise I'm going to take the vengeance that belongs to me!"
Spadu struggled gamely and did not speak. He might just as well have kept still in the hands that held him, for the two men carried him swiftly to the room where they had just left. There they stood him on his feet, and Appleton thrust his automatic under the Fambian's nose.
"Your last chance, Spadu!" he said. "Give the word and—"
"Freedom?" Spadu asked. "Yet what is your word worth? This man—" he indicated Mackenzie, "he gave his and—"
"You're the prisoner of the Shangas or rather, you're the prisoner now of Hoomri!" Appleton told him grimly, and Spadu literally jumped, bound as he was. This was the first he knew of the pact between Hoomri and Appleton and although no more was told him he realized that the two had been in conversation, and that Hoomri had no doubt given instructions for his restraint. He trembled to think of what fate Hoomri might mete out to him when he learnt all, as he would do, that he had done to these strangers who had the protection of the King of Fambia, and cunning as ever, Spadu realised that he might strike yet another bargain.
"And if I speak the word?" he said crisply. "What then?"
"You'll speak it, or pay the consequences!" was Appleton's reply, but Spadu, knowing that death now would be no worse than what Hoomri might pronounce against him, refused to be intimidated.
"Promise—"
"Nothing!" exclaimed Mackenzie, but Appleton told him to keep quiet.
"What?" the Professor asked the Fambian, and Spadu understanding that at least he had got a hearing, went on:
"Promise to plead for me with Hoomri. Then will I speak the word that will do what you desire!"
"Yes, promise Chief," came Craig's voice at that moment. Teddy had been standing at the window, looking out upon the fight, and it was evident that the Black Skins were winning. Many of them had died, many others had slid beneath the monorail to attack the train from the other side, and the rest were swarming up on to the veranda behind the armoured walls of which the Shangas were concealed, firing through their port-holes. "The Black Skins are winning!"
"You like bargaining," cried Appleton, quickly realizing that here might he a way out of the immediate difficulty of getting back to Fambia. "I promise what you ask, if you give me your word to obtain safeguard for us—Shangas and all—to Fambia!"
Spadu hesitated for a moment, then as the Professor almost unconsciously pressed the automatic against his chest the Fambian, glaring wildly at him, said:
"I promise!"
"Good!" exclaimed Appleton. "Now get that Dracolian to call off his men!"
Together, he and Horsman seized the Fambian. Spadu squirmed as Horsman touched him, and led him to the veranda.
The Dracolian's head showed above the wall of the veranda of the further train, and the man's voice hailed Spadu.
"Speak on, Fambian!" he said. "Who are you? A traitor or—"
"Nay, it is Spadu who speaks!" the Fambian said; than made his request for the Black Skins to be called off.
"Never! exclaimed the Dracolian.
"Then I die!" Spadu told him simply, and it was the first word he had said about being under compulsion. The effect was instantaneous, for the Dracolian called out:
"That which you ask shall be done!"
Appleton breathed freely again, but he kept his revolver pressed into Spadu's side. The next instant there was a blinding flash of red light, fire seemed to run along the top of the Dracolian train, and peering over the veranda, Teddy Craig saw Black Skins who had been swarming up, drop as though shot.
"Signal to retire!" he exclaimed.
"Good!" said Appleton. "Now, Spadu, tell that Draconian we want him over here, my word for his safety!"
Then while the Black Skins were straggling back to their train, Spadu shouted across to the Dracolian and gave him Appleton's message.
For a while the noble refused to come, but at last Spadu prevailed upon him. A collapsible ladder was let down by which he reached the ground. A few moments later he was in the train with the adventurers, staring at them, for, despite the brilliant light, he had not been able to examine them closely at a distance. This was the first time he had seen them, and their strange appearance evidently impressed him. He had, of course, heard of them since he was one of the Dracolians in the Spadu-Leenark plot against them; and actually it was he who had been ordered to have the rail across the Heart of Wooda broken in readiness for the great disaster. Whatever he might have felt about them, whatever his opinion, the Dracolian kept it to himself. He seemed to pull himself together, turned to Spadu and said:
"What is it these strangers want with me?"
"I can answer that," said Appleton quickly, and his mastery of the Wooda language evidently greatly surprised the Dracolian.
"Say on then, stranger," he said.
And Appleton promptly told him of the arrangement between him and Spadu.
"I have pledged that nothing shall happen to him until we reach Fambia, when I will plead for him," he said. "And it is King Hoomri's desire that he goes there. Spadu has given his word to obtain us all, Bracu and his Shangas as well, safe conduct from here to Fambia. It is for you to tell your King Leenark this and get him to make arrangements."
For a while the Dracolian was silent, looking at Spadu as if for confirmation. The Fambian spoke but one word and the Dracolian, throwing up his arms as if in disgust, agreed to do as he was asked.
It did not take long for the Dracolian to get into touch with Leenark, to whom he told what had happened, and the arrangement entered into between Appleton and Spadu. Leenark was furious but, aware that Hoomri would exact the utmost if he went contrary to his wishes, the Dracolian king was compelled to agree.
"And that's that, fellows," Appleton said, when he knew the result of the conversation. "Now we can get ahead to Dracola and so to Fambia, Bracu," he turned to the Shanga, "everything's all right: the train can go ahead. And you're safe till you reach Fambia!"
The journey back to Dracola was now without incident, so was the voyage along the canals to Fambia, and although it took a considerable time, day by day, Bracu was in communication with his friends at Fambia, and Appleton converged with Hoomri. The revolt was still in progress. One day Hoomri would report that with the aid of the Black Skins, the rebellion was being quelled, on another, Bracu was able to report that the Shangas were succeeding. Civil war, with all the fluctuations of fortune, was indeed raging, and ever and anon the travellers saw great air-vessels sweeping towards Fambia bearing, as Bracu said, Black Skins as reinforcements for Hoomri. Several times Hoomri had asked Appleton to try again with Bracu and get him to call off the rebellion, but the little man was adamant.
"To the end!" was his constant cry; and to the end he went. For there came the day when the ship berthed in the quay at Fambia, having passed through a naval battle and being allowed to go unmolested, although the Fambians and their helpers, the Black Skins, knew that aboard her was Bracu, for Hoomri had given his word. As for Bracu, he was unconcerned. He betrayed no apprehension, and Appleton and his friends wondered what the little man had in his mind. They were to know very soon.
Long ere the ship was berthed, there had come above her a black cloud of sun-planes, following her as though protecting her and the man who was at the head of the revolt, for the sun-planes were manned by Shangas. Several attempts had been made by airships to break up the formation of the planes, but the tiny craft had fought well and sent their enemies flying to above the roof of Hoomri's palace. They too, had their protective work to do, for judging by the appearance of the palace, it had been severely dealt with.
"I shall speak with Hoomri," the Shanga said. "As for you, friend, whatever happens, remember that I am your friend and that the Shangas will not harm you. But it will be well for you not to live in Hoomri's palace! It were better that you lived in a place apart. Perhaps where your machine lies."
"And why?" Appleton demanded, although he felt that he knew.
"Because if Hoomri listens not to what I say, then will the war be carried on to the utmost, and the City of Fambia will be no safe abiding place!"
"Thanks!" said Appleton quietly. "But first we go to see Hoomri to deliver Spadu!"
"One thing I would ask you, friend," Bracu said, looking straight at the Professor, "It is that you remain here with Spadu until I have seen Hoomri. My safety so far has been because of you and—"
"I agree," Appleton told him, realizing what was in the Shanga's mind, and so it was that when, in reply to Bracu's suggestion, Hoomri came to the quayside, attended by many nobles. Appleton and his companions were still aboard the ship standing behind Bracu when he appeared to parley with the King of Fambia.
Hoomri and Bracu had called a truce, and the fierce fighting that had been going on ceased for the time, to allow the two leaders to negotiate. It was also arranged between them that the fighting should not be resumed while the adventurers were in the city, the Shangas undertaking not to attack if they were left alone. They wasted no time in futile talk. Bracu, standing on the deck, as strange a leader of a revolution as ever existed, called out to Hoomri:
"King Hoomri!"—Appleton noted the absence of "O mighty" from the form of address, and so did the King, for his face clouded though he said nothing—"the time has come when Fambia has got to give the Shangas honoured standing in the country. Too long have they been ground down, too long have they been slaves. For ages they have asked Fambia to establish them as citizens equal with the Fambians themselves, but what has happened? Always they have been refused; and worse, the slave gangs have been swelled, and those whom you have chosen to call the leaders have been banished to the Red Desert. So have the Shangas risen. For freedom—freedom that they will take of your hands if you will give it, but freedom which they will have at any cost!"
Bracu ceased for a moment or so, and Hoomri, silent till then, said:
"Bracu, that which you ask is impossible. Slaves have the Shangas been, and slaves must they remain—"
"Because you have believed that," Bracu said quickly, "you cannot—e'en your Wise Men cannot-imagine anything different. Then shall we fight to the very end, and some day, Hoomri, Fambia will plead for salvation!"
Hoomri laughed, but it was evident that he was not altogether at ease. He turned and conferred with the Wise Men.
"Bracu," he said, "the Wise Men of Fambia refuse what you demand—your fate be on your own head!"
It seemed to Appleton that the time had come for him to do something; he had no illusions on the matter of what this discord must mean in the end, for the highly scientific methods adopted by both sides, he was convinced, would result not in the mere victory of one side over the other, but in the destruction of them both.
"Listen, O mighty Hoomri," he said, stepping forth. "It ill becomes me, a stranger, to enter into your disputes, but I risk your displeasure, especially as what I have to say seems to be in favour of the Shangas."
"Say on, friend," Hoomri told him.
"Then I would suggest, O mighty Hoomri," the Professor went on, "that both sides call a truce and seek to find a way out. You people of Wooda, who are so wise as to have community of interests such as I have witnessed during my voyage along the canals, can surely devise a method by which to avoid bloodshed. I know you won't mind my saying it, but the people of the Earth, who are by no means as advanced as you are, have at least gone this much further: they do not enslave nations and tribes as you do. That system belonged to long past ages. On the Earth men are free, and it is their very freedom that binds them together and places upon them responsibilities such as you, O mighty Hoomri, force upon your Shangas. I do believe that the granting of those things for which Bracu asks would be to the advantage of all!"
Appleton ceased, and it was evident that his words, despite the fact, that he had frequently to search, as it were, for the right Wooda word to express himself, had impressed Hoomri and his advisers, who conferred again for a little while. Whatever it was that Hoomri had suggested, the Wise Men were still adamant, and so the Fambian king turned and told Appleton that although he thanked him for his desire to help, that which he advised could not be.
"Then it is not for me to do anything more," Appleton said seriously, and his face was very grave. "Bracu," he turned to the Shanga, "have Spadu brought up. I shall go ashore with him."
"There is danger there for you, friend," Bracu said, but Appleton refused to be dissuaded from his purpose to deliver Spadu personally into the custody of the Fambians; and, moreover, he had pledged his word to plead for the traitor's forgiveness. Seeing that the White Skin was determined, Bracu gave the order that resulted in Spadu being fetched up on to the deck of the ship, and a few moments later Appleton and his companions were stepping ashore, with Spadu in advance.
"My prisoner," Appleton told Hoomri curtly, "This is no place to go into things, and—"
"By the Light, it is not!" said Hoomri. "See the slaves scuttle now!" and he pointed to the ship which was sweeping down the canal, creating a smoke-cloud as it went. "They are afraid, now that they hold no hostages."
"Perhaps," Appleton muttered, for he had no small belief in the strength and craft of the Shangas, just as he had no small conviction that they were right in their cause—for which reason he would have given a great deal to have assisted them. For many reasons, however, that was impossible and undesirable, chief of which was that Appleton's greatest concern in life was his exploration of Mars: for that it would be possible to return to the Earth the Professor had never had any real doubt, not even when he had made that alarming discovery so many months ago that the Earth was not visible. For many nights he had watched through his telescope, but had not succeeded in locating the Earth; and the news that Hoomri had occasionally sent was to the same effect. Then there had come the exciting series of events that have been recorded, with the result that Appleton, who had been unable to attend to this very important matter, finally decided to leave it over until he was able to devote his whole attention to it.
"Come," said Hoomri, who had not heard the muttered remark of Appleton. "This is a matter to be tried by the Council of the Wise!" and, waving an imperious hand, he ordered the crowd of attendants to precede him to the palace. Appleton walked beside him, but nothing was said as they went, and at last, they were in the great hall through the roof of which the Marsobus had crashed on that day when the adventurers had arrived on Mars. Absent now, however, were the crowds of Shangas who had been there then, and the hall seemed empty without them despite the numbers of Fambians who were present, dressed in their brilliant red metal armour—armour which had till then been only a symbol of their power, and never called for as a protection, since their fighting had been done by the Shangas who were now in revolt. The long spikes of the helmets gleamed in the light, while the steel armour of the Black Skins, who now formed the bodyguard of Hoomri, glistened like silver, and the long swords, held point upwards, were themselves like bars of light.
Hoomri mounted the great dais on which his golden throne was placed, and Spadu, his hands still bound, was ordered to stand before that crowd of his fellows and answer the charges to be made against him.
The Council of the Wise was ranged about the foot of the dais, and to them Hoomri commanded Appleton to tell his story.
The Professor did so, firmly, calmly, and while he did not exaggerate he of set purpose gave full weight to his accusation. The assembled Fambians listened in a chilly silence. Hoomri glowered at Spadu as though this face-to-face recital of the man's iniquities had eaten into his heart. Spadu, for his part, stood sullen, yet there was a hint of defiance that Appleton could not understand. Neither could Appleton's comrades, and it was Mackenzie who, in a stage whisper to them, voiced what they were all feeling.
"The rascal's got somethin' up his sleeve," the Scotsman said.
"Shut up, Mac," growled Ashby. "I want to hear the Chief!"
Mackenzie subsided immediately, and Appleton's voice trailed on, hesitating now and again as he fumbled for the right Wooda word, although, as he had long since discovered, the language was so simple in its elements that it was not by any means a difficult task to acquire it sufficiently to serve most purposes.
Appleton took his hearers through all the events of that voyage along the canals, and outlined what he told them he was now convinced had been attempts on his life and the lives of his friends. Especially did he dwell upon the great plot between Spadu and Leenark of Dracola. And at last the speech was done. Appleton stepped back to the little group of his friends and waited—waited to hear what Hoomri would say. He looked again at Spadu, and the Fambian was smiling cynically.
"I'll bet the beggar's going to pitch some lying tale, Teddy," the Professor whispered to Craig.
"You'll win, Chief," Teddy said dryly.
"You have heard, O Fambians," Hoomri was saying as he leaned forward with his helmeted head resting in the cup of his hands. "The White Skin has told a tale that chills the heart. The people of Fambia have been famed for their honesty, yet this Noble—he to whom I have promised my daughter"—Spadu's eyes flickered as these words were spoken, and he glanced around as though expecting to see the Princess Amabius, who, had Hoomri but known it, was the unwitting cause of all the trouble—"this Noble," Hoomri went on passionately, "has betrayed us all. Into his keeping I gave these strangers. You have heard how he honoured his trust. Spadu, it is for you to deny, if you can, what this stranger has said."
A buzz of whispering voices went round the great hall. The adventurers seemed to jerk them selves into more rigid attention. Spadu, still smiling, stepped closer to the dais.
He raised his head and looked in front of him, and then in an impassioned voice began his defence. And what a defence! Appleton and his companions listened in absolute amazement to the plausible tale unfolded, and realized the significance of the Fambian's nonchalance.
"Listen, O mighty Hoomri!" Spadu cried. "What this White Skin has said is true—and yet untrue! True it is that some of the things of which he accuses me were done, but this is my justification: the revolt of the Shangas lies at his door!"
He paused, as if to allow the words to sink deeply into the minds of his hearers. That they were astonished and angrily so was very evident, but they held themselves in leash. Not so Horsman. That worthy, with a low cry of rage, sprang, and his hand was upon the shoulder of the prisoner before Appleton had realized what was happening. Then the Professor sprang, too, and he literally wrenched the panting Horsman away.
"Don't be a fool, Horsman!" he said thickly. "Let the liar lie!"
"I'd let him die, if I'd my way!" said Horsman harshly.
The commotion that had ensued died away suddenly as Hoomri, seeing that Appleton had control of his friend, ordered Spadu to proceed; and there was nothing in the King's countenance to suggest what he himself was thinking.
"More than this, O mighty Hoomri!" Spadu began again. "That man who would have attacked one who could not help himself"—he alluded to his bound arms—"that man who won your favour, and the favour of the fair Princess"—the adventurers held their breath, wondering what was coming next and by no means expecting what did come—"he it was who began the treachery that has led to this revolt. For it was he who intrigued with the Shangas, leagued as they are with the banished Fambians in the Red Desert, and it was plotted between them that Bracu, the traitor, should enter Fambia and seize the Princess, so that you, O mighty Hoomri, should pay her ransom with your throne, while Bracu should reign in your place, and that White Skin who called himself friend should have your daughter for wife—for these men would have played you traitor even when you paid the price. They would have seized Amabius again!"
It took the combined strength of all his comrades to hold the now maddened Horsman back from flinging himself again upon the man who was making such an outrageous charge against him, and even Appleton, despite the fact that he was restraining Horsman, wanted to take the Fambian and shake him as a dog shakes a rat.
"Steady, old man," he muttered to the struggling airman. "I—" Then Horsman ceased his strivings as his bloodshot eyes fastened upon a figure in one of the galleries behind the throne. "Let go—I'll stand it," he said quietly.
Greatly wondering, Appleton followed the direction in which he had been looking, and there, with hands clasped and wide staring eyes, was Princess Amabius, evidently speaking, but what her words were none could tell for the hubbub down below.
At that moment Hoomri, forgetting his dignity as king, sprang to his feet and waved excited arms, calling for silence, and silence fell. Only for a moment did it last, for there came, like the sound of a silver bell, the voice of Amabius.
"O Hoomri, my father!" she was saying, "that which Spadu says is the black lie of a black man—" and the watchers saw Spadu squirm, for, although the adventurers did not know it, to be likened to a Black Skin was the worst thing that could be said about a Fambian.
"Silence, my daughter!" called out Hoomri, turning round, and saw Amabius drooped over the side of the gallery. Hoomri swung back to face Spadu. "Say on, Spadu," he commanded, "if there be more to say!"
"What more need I say?" the Fambian said boastfully. "It is for you, O mighty Hoomri, to believe the word of your servant, or that of a man since whose coming there has been nothing but trouble in Wooda! If is for you and the Council of the Wise to judge."
"By Jove, the fellow's got some pluck, anyway, even if he is the biggest liar I ever heard," growled Mackenzie. "What's the next act, Chief?"
"Don't know. But I reckon Hoomri's the actor!" said Appleton, who for all his surprise could not help grinning. "And he's on."
"They are strange words that you speak, Spadu," the King said slowly. "So strange that they seem beyond belief. If all this be true, why was it that you said naught to me before you left Fambia?"
"Because, O mighty Hoomri," the man said, "I did not know until I heard these White Skins and Shangas speaking on the ship," was the amazing reply.
"Friend," Hoomri spoke to Horsman, "what truth is there in what the Noble speaks?"
"If you would command that his bonds be cut, O mighty Hoomri," said Horsman, "I would drive the words back down his black throat. That's how much truth there is in them! Not one single thing have I or any of these my friends done against Fambia!"
"All of which I do most solemnly give my word for, O mighty Hoomri," put in Appleton. "You have but to remember that all that Spadu has done has been done in secret, without your knowledge. Is that the manner of a man who knows he is acting fairly? This matter must be for you to judge, even as Spadu says, and I am content to leave it there. I cannot prove one way or the other—neither can Spadu. It is his word against ours—and it should be clear that we, strangers and but passing visitors, if the gods will so, have nothing to gain by conspiring against those who have proved friendly to us when they might have been foes!"
Appleton's words, quietly spoken, albeit they had force behind them, seemed to clinch the matter as far as Hoomri was concerned, for he looked down at the Council of the Wise and said:
"You have heard, O Wise Men, all that has passed. It is for you to pronounce judgment."
There was a short interval, not of silence, for the assembly was whispering in its agitation. Amabius, leaning over the gallery, looked distressed. Spadu's eyes sought her out at once, but she turned her head away. Hoomri sat silent. The adventurers stood still—still, that is, except for the twitching hands of Horsman, which ached to have their hold on the man who had made evil, lying accusations against him and his friends.
All were waiting for the verdict of the Council of the Wise. It came at last. One of the Wise Men, whom Appleton recognized as Mantu, the President of the Council, spoke the words for which all had waited. There was grim silence as he stepped forward and said: "O mighty Hoomri, we who can read the hearts of men know that the strangers speak the truth, and that the Noble Spadu speaks that which are lies. The punishment is—death!"
He ceased, and the ensuing silence was broken by the sob of a woman's voice. It was Amabius—and Appleton, at least, realized that the woman who had given the lie to her lover's words was nevertheless suffering agony because of the doom pronounced.
And Hoomri, when he spoke, did so with breaking voice.
"O Guard," he said, "taken him away—to the Land of Death!"
The words sent a shudder through the whole assembly; all knew what that meant.
Spadu was to be taken to the country of the miasma of death, where he had made his first attempt on the lives of the White Skins.
"Not that—not that, O Father!" Amabius cried, stretching out imploring arms, while Appleton stepped forward and said:
"Listen, O Hoomri! This man has done much evil already, and tried to do more against me and my friends. Yet, even so, I crave his life. Many days ago I gave him my pledge to plead for him. Grant him his life!"
A buzz of excitement ran through the hall—so loud that none scarcely heard Horsman also join in his plea for Spadu's life, for the young airman had suddenly realized that whatever fate the Fambian had deserved, the woman up in the gallery had not lost all her regard for him.
Altogether amazed, Hoomri called for silence, and got it.
"You have heard what the White Skins have asked," he said to the Council. "Again is the matter in your hands. When a man's foes plead for him—" he paused, and there was no need for him to proceed.
"Let Spadu not die," the President said. "Let him be held prisoner, and later we will decide the punishment."
If Spadu was affected by what had happened he did not show it—he allowed himself to be led away without saying a word, either of thanks or of further denunciation.
Hoomri left the dais, after giving instructions that the adventurers were to meet him in his own apartment.
Thither they went, and Hoomri, after expressing his regret, for what, had happened, asked them what they were going to do.
"We propose to take no sides in this matter between Fambia and the Shangas," Appleton told him.
"With which I cannot quarrel." Hoomri said. "But it will be dangerous for you here, and—"
"That is what Bracu was good enough to say," Appleton told him, with a slight smile.
"My idea is that you should allow one of your Council of the Wise to accompany us in our machine on a voyage over Wooda. Of course, I look to you to advise all the people of Wooda of our friendliness, so that there shall he no unpleasant things happen."
"As you will, friend," Hoomri said. "I will arrange for Lalcu—you know him; he is the greatest mind in Wooda—to go with you."
He spoke into the wireless phone at his side, and a few minutes later there entered Lalcu, whom, as Hoomri had said, Appleton knew. Lalcu it was who had been the chief teacher of the adventurers when they were striving to learn the language; he, too, it was who had explained many of the scientific achievements of the Martians; and, in addition to all this, he was a very good friend of the adventurers.
Hoomri explained what Appleton wanted, and Lalcu expressed his willingness to make the journey; so, having made their adieux to Hoomri, and arranged with Lalcu to meet them at the shed where the Marsobus was housed, Appleton and his friends set about collecting what things they would require on their journey.
"DO you know, Chief," Horsman said as, heavily laden, the little band was making its way down to the quay, "I'd much rather stay here and watch this silly old war and—"
"You'll do nothing of the kind, Horsman," Appleton told him. "We've been mixed up quite sufficiently with the business as it is, and, by Jove! we're lucky not to have got into a much worse mess than we have done."
"Has it occurred to you, Chief," put in Teddy Craig, "that we've got it in our hands to stop this trouble—for a time, anyway?"
"How, Teddy?" Appleton asked him. "Ah, here we are! Put the stuff in," as they reached the quay, where a boat was all ready for them. "Well, get on with it, youngster."
"Why, the truce between Bracu and Hoomri is to last as long as we are in the city, and—"
"I know that," the Professor said. "But how long do you think that we'd be allowed to stay? The Fambians certainly want to get on with what they believe will be the smashing of the Shangas, and we should find our presence very much resented if we stood in the way of their desire. No, Teddy, we're going—"
"If we can get the wretched boat to move," Mackenzie growled. He had been trying to manipulate the simple mechanism, but without avail, and, although Appleton tried too, the boat would not budge. It was growing dark, and Appleton, who was anxious to get to the Marsobus and so be ready to start first thing in the morning, reckoned it would be necessary to get another boat.
It was just when he had made up his mind to unload the goods that had been deposited in the boat that Lalcu arrived, and Appleton hoped that the Fambian would be able to assist them. Lalcu, however, could not.
"Well, we'll tranship the stuff," Appleton decided finally. "Lalcu, can you arrange for one of those other boats along there?"
The Wise Man agreed to do so, and went up the quay to where several other boats were lying; but before he came back the unexpected happened.
Out of the darkness there sprang a score of men, who without warning threw themselves at the busy adventurers.
Craig, burdened with a heavy bag, was sent spinning round; the bag dropped from his shoulder, and the youngster himself slid off the quay-side into the water. Appleton, more fortunate, had seen the attackers, and laid about them with a bar of metal that crashed upon the armour of what he knew was a Black Skin.
"Treachery, fellows!" the Professor exclaimed. "Let 'em have it!"
There was scarcely need for that injunction, because the other three, dropping their burdens, were putting up a valiant fight. It was against their wish to use their firearms, but realizing that they were up against things they stifled their repugnance. What the outcome would have been, none can say, because even the use of the automatics was not likely to have enabled the adventurers to overcome their foes; but the fight which had started so suddenly ended almost as quickly. The light of the city came on, and bearing down upon the little group were a number of Fambians, led by Lalcu, shouting as they came. The Black Skins saw them, instantly broke off the light and went rushing along the quay.
"After them!" shouted Horsman, but Appleton roared to him to remain where he was, while he himself, seeing Teddy Craig still in the water, unable alone to haul himself on to dry land, stooped over and gave him a hand. Teddy, who had been treading water, grinned up at him.
"Sorry I missed the scrap, Chief," he said. "You young fire-eater," Appleton said. "Come up!" and he drew Craig ashore, a drenched, dripping figure.
By this time the Fambians had gone swinging past in pursuit of the Black Skins, and Lalcu, looking very agitated, asked Appleton if he knew why the attack had been made.
"I saw and heard the fight," the Fambian said, "and I knew it was all wrong, so I got what men I could to come to your assistance."
"Thanks very much," the Professor answered. "No, I don't know why it happened, and—"
"I will communicate with the King," Lalcu said, "and inform him."
He used the little pocket wireless phone that he carried, and getting into touch with Hoomri told him of the attack.
"I will have inquiries made," Hoomri said angrily. "Have you got the White Skins another boat? A question which Lalcu answered in the affirmative, and even as he spoke a boat slipped into the quay near by. By the time that the goods had been transferred to her, the Fambians who had chased the Black Skins returned, bringing with them a couple of the strange warriors. The three who had dropped during the fight were not dead, although they had been very seriously injured. No amount of dumb-play would make either of the captives indicate the meaning of their attack; and Lalcu, telling the adventurers he would follow them later across the lake, accompanied the Fambians when they marched off with their prisoners.
"Anyway, fellows," Appleton said when the boat was cutting across the water, "there's one good thing that this rebellion has done, it's made the Fambians work for their living—which they hadn't done before! A month ago an incident of this kind would have made 'em send a bunch of Shangas to chase those toughs."
"Necessity is the mother of—" Ashby began cynically.
"I'd like to know who was the 'mother' of that attack," broke in Mackenzie. "By Ben Nevis, but I thocht we'd finished wi' trouble!"
"So did I," Appleton confessed. "Perhaps it's just another case of a bunch of those black fellows living up to their tradition of hatred against white folk. Anyway, Hoomri will tell us, I dare say. Here we are!" as the boat scraped the farther bank, within a few hundred yards of which was the house of the Marsobus.
It did not take long for the adventurers to get their baggage into the hangar, and by the time they had done this Lalcu had arrived, and he was looking very glum and worried.
"Well, Lalcu?" Appleton queried, when the Fambian entered.
"It is not well," Lalcu told him, "because a Fambian has shown base ingratitude. Spadu, the man for whom you pleaded, subverted his guard almost before he was out of the great hall; he told them of certain of the Black Skins who would be pleased to kill you at a word from him. They were found and they came, and now in the City there is much discontent amongst the Black Skins who are aggrieved that we Fambians should, as they put it, take your part against them. These be sad days for Fambia!"
Appleton said nothing, for the simple reason that he did not know what to say. He was, however, considerably perturbed at the next words of Lalcu, who said:
"Friend there are those in Fambia, even amongst the chief men, who mutter in secret that the troubles of Fambia have increased because you came hither."
Appleton, who had been told this before, now felt more concerned about it, regarding it as a very serious matter when such a man as Lalcu should think fit to repeat it; yet he tried to hide his anxiety, smiling as he replied.
"Well, at any rate, Lalcu, you and I know better and I feel certain your other Wise Men are not led away by such foolish superstitions."
"Quite so, quite so," the Fambian said quickly as though he were anxious not to be associated with anything in the nature of a superstition! "But you will know how dangerous such whisperings are? And it is as well that you are going on this voyage. By the time you come back I have no doubt that all the trouble will be over."
"I hope so, sincerely," was Appleton's reply, but neither he nor Lalcu knew the manner in which Fambia's troubles would be ended.
THE Marsobus with her aeroplane wings acting, and with her side windows wide open and, for the sake of observation, her special floor window uncovered, rose easily with the aid of her helicopter and drove at a leisured speed about two hundred feet above the ground.
During the late hours of the previous night, Appleton had indicated on a Martian map the route that he wished to take and the area that he desired to explore, namely what he, as an Earth-man, called the South Polar cap of Mars. The plan that he suggested, and one that Lalcu agreed to, was to follow the course of the canal from Fambia, descending here and there to make investigations—each night, indeed, was to be spent on land.
Fambia, as they saw it last, was a City wonderful to behold, with the early morning sun shining upon its gold-doomed palaces; a City over the destruction of which it was easy to be sorrowful. And that there was need for this was evident within ten minutes of the Marsobus taking the air: it was as though both sides, Fambians and Shangas, had been waiting for this and regarded it as a signal for action. From beyond the lake, behind a dense and vast stretch of jungle, there arose a cloud that resolved itself into a fleet of the Shanga one-man aeroplanes headed all of them for the City, while from various places near the City there ascended gigantic airships, airships that were really air-cruisers. No gas envelopes held them up; they were shaped very much like a sea-going ship, with decks on which crowds of men moved freely.
"THANK goodness we're out of that!" said Teddy Craig, looking back on the City of Fambia. "I've find enough excitement for a while and—"
"So have I," Appleton agreed, "I'm getting tired of being unable to make the investigations I wanted to. Perhaps now we can get down to that work."
That hope was not to be fulfilled altogether, although a great deal of good work was done, even before there took place the tremendous happening that nearly wrecked the Marsobus.
The machine had passed many miles up the great canal, and on the third afternoon had been brought to rest on the desert beyond a city which Lalcu said was called Anula, situated, like all the other cities of Mars, on an island in one of the artificial lakes into which canals entered and out of which they emerged.
"The Anulans are the nearest neighbours of Fambia," Lalcu said, "and they are not particularly friendly to us. Fortunately, they are more peaceably inclined just now, so if you like we will go into their city?"
"Of course," said Appleton promptly, and so the adventurers, with the exception of Mackenzie, who elected to remain with the Marsobus, entered the collapsible boat, crossed the lake and landed on the quay-side of Anula where there was already a large gathering of people, reminding the new-comers of the day on which they arrived at Fambia. As the boat drew nearer, it was clear that the people differed very little from the Fambians, the chief difference being that they were not quite so largely built.
Lalcu, standing in the stern of the boat, called out to them, informing them of the peaceful character of the party, and the Anulans who, as afterwards transpired, had been warned by Hoomri of the coming of the adventurers were evidently interested.
They waited silently for this boat to run up to the quay-side, and when the party landed a splendidly attired man requested them to follow him to the palace of Trancu, the King of Anula. They obeyed, and on arriving at the palace, were welcomed very kindly by Trancu who expressed pleasure at being visited by them.
"We thank you, O Trancu," Appleton said. "If it please you to permit us we would like to look round your city."
"You have but to ask and what you want shall be done!" said Trancu. "My Wise Men shall take you around the city to-morrow."
Appleton, who was anxious not to have too many delays of this kind, felt that in view of the traditional enmity between the Anulans and Fambians, it would be best to agree to wait until the morning, instead of making the tour that afternoon, and so vowed how grateful he was.
But it would have been better if the Marsobus had not stopped at Anula, and it would have been better if the adventurers had never set foot in that city.
For Trancu, who had long before heard of their presence in Wooda, and of whence they had come, and of how the strange vessel had proved so effectual in aiding the Fambians in the battle with the Evil Ones from the Groves of Death, had, the moment Hoomri told them they might pay a visit to Anula, become seized with an obsession to possess the Marsobus.
He saw opportunity thrust before him, and could scarcely conceal the pleasure that he felt when he said:
"Friends, you shall be the honoured guests of the Court of Anula to-night."
There was nothing for it but to accept the courteous invitation; and, anyway, there was no reason for Appleton to refuse.
Trancu showed the adventurers the treasures of his palace, introduced them to various important people, and by the time all this had been done, the function to which he had invited them was ready.
It had not lasted very long before Trancu made his first move. The guests of the evening had been formally welcomed by him, and their well-being drunk in the milk-like wine that was the favourite drink of the Martians in general. Appleton thanked the hosts for their welcome, and the little company of adventurers drank of the refreshing wine.
Lalcu, who had also drunk of it, but not deeply, put down the golden cup quickly; and Appleton, sitting about fifty places from him, wondered what the Fambian was about, for Lalcu half rose, then sat down again quickly. He was staring at Trancu, and Appleton, turning, saw that the King was smiling cynically at the Fambian; he knew what Appleton did not know—that the man beside Lalcu had a keen-pointed dagger pricking the thigh of the Fambian.
For half an hour the feast went on its even course, and then, of a sudden, Craig, sitting opposite Appleton, saw his Chief drop forward in his chair. Teddy sprang to his feet at the same instant that Horsman did so; and then, before they could do anything else, they tumbled back to their seats. Ashby, amazed at the whole affair, tried to get up, but he was held as though in steel bonds; and the last thing he knew was that from somewhere—as though a long distance away—the voice of Trancu was sounding a mocking laugh.
And Lalcu, who had drunk no more from the goblet after the first sip which had revealed to him the secret of the drugged wine, got to his feet, and said in a stern voice:
"For this treachery, Trancu, Fambia will take vengeance!"
He was dragged from the table by stalwart slaves, who bundled him out of the hall; while others fetched the bodies of the drugged adventurers and carried them to a room, the window of which commanded a view of the lake and the Marsobus lying beyond it.
AWAY down in Fambia events had been moving swiftly. Hoomri had found that, despite the aid sent by Leenark, he was up against a big proposition, and the Shangas were playing havoc with the city. Hoomri, therefore, called for the help of other peoples. By means of the long-distance wireless phone a Conference of Kings was held, at which Hoomri pointed out that the prestige and even the continued existence of the ruling nations were at stake; if the Shangas won in Fambia it would no doubt, lead to trouble in other quarters.
This aspect of the matter brought him the promises of much needed aid, and all over Wooda preparations were made.
Meanwhile Bracu's intelligence service of swift-flying messengers had discovered the scheme, and the Shangas realized that they had raised a hornet's-nest.
Bracu held a council of war several miles out in the desert beyond Fambia, and it was decided that new measures should be taken.
Driven into a corner, as they realized they were, the Shangas knew that they must adopt very stringent measures; and those measures were such as to cause even them to shudder at the thought of the terrible effect they would have.
"This much can we hope for," Bracu said, in closing the conference; "the very fact that we shall be in a position to carry out our threat may be sufficient to cause Hoomri to give in; for it is not a city of the dead that we want, nor to see Wooda itself one vast burial ground!"
For the proposal that it had been decided to act upon was nothing more or less than to seize the great pumping stations at the poles and to threaten to smash them up, and so cut off the water supply of Wooda.
It was true that the water in the vast reservoirs would last for a considerable time; but the fact remained that it would take so long to rebuild the pumping stations that life would have become impossible long before the work was completed, except for those who lived quite close to the poles. It was also true that a large number of the Shangas would be involved in the general catastrophe, because it would be impossible for them all to get to the poles; but, as Bracu had said, the likelihood was that the very possibility of the threat being carried out would bring Hoomri to his senses.
Therefore plans were made and that night two batches of the one-man planes set out—one for the south polar cap and the other for the north. More were to follow the next night, and meanwhile the Shangas were to keep up the conflict round about Fambia. Bracu, leaving his chief of staff, Granca, in charge of operations there, led the party heading for the southern cap, little dreaming that the portentous decision of the Shangas was going to result in so much more than even they had imagined.
For while the Shangas were thus winging their way, Trancu was playing his treacherous trick upon Appleton and his companions.
When the unconscious prisoners had been deposited in the room overlooking the lake of Anula, Trancu, anxious to become possessed of the prize he coveted, commanded a band of his soldiers—great armour-clad warriors—to go and seize the strange craft in which the White Skins had come. They knew that there was only one man left in charge of it, and they did not anticipate any trouble.
Nevertheless, they found it.
Mackenzie, who had been in a grousing mood ever since the others had gone, was sitting in the Marsobus reading, for the fiftieth time, a book that had been brought from Earth, between whiles wondering what was happening in the well-lighted city the other side of the lake. He felt restless. Several times he had used one of the small wireless phones that Hoomri had presented to them, and tried to get in touch with Appleton; but, failing, had told himself that he probably had bungled the use of it. He knew different, however, when the instrument which he had on the table beside it spoke, and be recognized the voice of Lalcu.
"There is an attack coming on you," Lalcu said from the room where he had been imprisoned. With the foolishness that sometimes characterizes knaves, Trancu had overlooked the fact that Lalcu possessed a wireless phone. So the Fambian, the moment he was alone, had done the only thing in his power: he had tried, and successfully, to get into touch with the Marsobus.
"What kind of attack and by whom?" Mackenzie asked him; but Lalcu could only say that the men of Anula were going to try by some means or other to get possession of the Marsobus.
"Oh, they are, are they?" the engineer growled. "It will be all right, Lalcu, I suppose, for me to stop them in any way I can? Thanks. But where are my friends? Good sakes!" he exclaimed to himself when the Fambian told him. "I thocht there was somethin' wrong. I felt it in me bones! I reckon I'll have to put the wind up Mr. Trancu."
Mackenzie was all activity on the instant. He jumped across to the gun on the side facing the lake, saw that it was in order, switched on the current, and set one of the engines going—this to generate power to let the powerful searchlight work: and after a few minutes had the vivid beam of light streaming across the water. It broke after a long search upon a boat filled with armour-clad men, whom he took to be the servants of Trancu, and whom, at any rate, he was inclined to regard as such; he was taking no risks.
He felt pretty confident that they were the attacking party, for the moment the searchlight's ray fell upon them they showed signs of great concern; and the weapons which the light had revealed were suddenly concealed.
"Right oh, my friends!" muttered Mackenzie. "You seem to be the only fellows on the move this evening, so it's up to me. Wish I had someone to work the wretched light while I handle the gun. Means I'll have to wait until the boat runs to shore. Then—may all the gods of Mars help 'em!"
Relentlessly the searchlight held upon the boat cutting through the water at a smart pace and centred in the wide circle of light. If Mackenzie had only known it, Trancu was on the gallery round the domed roof of his palace watching, and had been considerably surprised to see the searchlight break out at the very moment when it was not wanted; he wondered how the man in charge of the craft had known of the intending attack—if, indeed, he had known and it was not just accidental. There was, however, so much of definite purpose in the way that light held the boat for it to be a mere accident, and Trancu began to have a rather awed respect for the strangers, telling himself that perhaps they were gifted with and possessed means of seeing from afar, even as were the Woodans themselves; for although Trancu had heard much of the adventurers, he was by no means sure that he had heard all.
His feeling of uneasiness developed into real fear when the very moment that the boat touched the shore, with the light still on it, it vanished—as if it had been engulfed. There had been no sound, no visible manifestation of the way in which the boat had disappeared; it simply vanished, and with it the men that Trancu had sent. What had happened was that Mackenzie had fired the gun, which, noiseless, smokeless and without a flash, had done the work he had intended it to do: it had destroyed boat and men in an instant, and the dour Scotsman rubbed his hand reflectively across his chin.
"Mebbe that'll teach those fellow somethin'," he said. "Wonder if there are any more coming?"
He reloaded the gun and then manipulated the searchlight again, sweeping its ray across the water, questing for signs of another boat, but finding none.
"Thocht it was goin' to be dead easy, I suppose," he said, with a chuckle. "Ony way—'Lo! the audience!" He broke off as, scarcely knowing why he had done it, he lifted the ray of light and threw it on to the city itself; and there, as plainly as though it were broad daylight, the figures of Trancu and his courtiers were to be seen on the gallery of the palace, crouching not a little fearfully as the light found them.
"A peety to waste a shell," he ruminated, "but 'twill have to be done, Ah think. If Mr. Trancu loses the roof o' his palace he'll noo doot be 'fraid he may lose the roof o' his heed."
And, having fixed the searchlight, Mackenzie took deliberate aim at the dome of the palace, planted a shell fairly and squarely in it, and laughed aloud as he saw, with masonry flying all about them, Trancu and his companions make a bolt for safety.
"Noo, mebbe, Ah can wait till th' mornin' to find out what's all aboot," the Scotsman said. "S'pose I ocht to go over an' fetch the Chief oot, though."
Mackenzie thought very seriously of doing this, but at last he came to the conclusion that to leave the Marsobus would be foolish, and probably fatal; because while he was in her, and had his guns, he could bargain with Trancu.
"Better give Meester Trancu a call, and tell him if he doesn't send the fellows back I'll blow his old city to pieces," was Mackenzie's final decision.
He called in the aid of the wireless, and after a while was speaking with Trancu, and Mackenzie soon realized that he had got the Martian guessing as to how he knew what had happened in the palace.
"For what reason do you kill my men and fire upon my palace?" Trancu asked. "I have given hospitality to your friends and—"
"Too much hospitality," was Mackenzie's grim reply. "If you don't bring them back to consciousness I'll do some more firing."
"Because your friends have gone to rest—" Trancu began, but the Scotsman cut him short.
"You put them to sleep first," he said, and Trancu gasped. He was convinced now that the stranger had one of the vision instruments, and that it was useless to try to evade his demands. Quick-witted and cunning, however, he believed that he could still accomplish his purpose, granted the time to work.
"The drug must take its course," he said.
"That's a lie!" Mackenzie told him, remembering what had happened when Spadu had drugged Appleton and Horsman.
"Not quite," was the reply; and Mac could only smile at the naïveté of the Martian. "It is possible to restore consciousness, but it is dangerous to do so. If you insist—"
"I'll wait till the morning," Mackenzie said crisply. "How long before the effects of the drug wear off?"
"It will not be until the middle of the day," Trancu said, scarcely able to keep from his voice the pleasure he felt at having bluffed the stranger.
Mackenzie thought for a few moments, wondering what his next step should be. He could insist that the drugged men should be brought over to the Marsobus, but he realized that this would place him at a disadvantage, inasmuch as to get them into the machine would mean either that he would have to allow some of the enemies to carry them in, or else he himself would have to do it; and while he was doing that he could not keep the gun trained upon the palace—the one asset that Mackenzie knew that he had.
Mackenzie, therefore, decided that he would fall in with the suggestion of Trancu, and he told the Anulan that unless by noon the next day the captives were brought across the lake and set free to come to the Marsobus, he would smash the palace utterly.
"It shall be done," was Trancu's reply; and then conversation ceased between them.
Mackenzie, however, was not at all easy about the goodwill of Trancu. He realized that whatever the Anulan had promised to do had been wrung from him by the menace of that gun; and he was not at all sure that the Martian would not try some means of evading his promise and also of accomplishing his purpose of seizing the Marsobus.
Therefore Mackenzie decided that there was to be no sleep for him that night; also that it would be as well to keep the searchlight going. The ray of it swept continually across the lake, as the engineer sought to take by surprise any attacking party that Trancu might send out. But there was no sign of a boat or ship crossing the lake, and Mackenzie was almost reassured. Also, he was not a little tired; and despite his desire to keep awake, he dozed off just before dawn, with the searchlight still streaming forth.
He had gone to sleep easily—slipped off into unconsciousness; he awoke with a start as there came to him the sounds of heavy blows upon the shell of the Marsobus.
Mackenzie sprang across the cabin, and slid aside by a very little one of the port-hole covers—and saw a crowd of big Martians throwing themselves at the Marsobus, hacking at it with huge axes. Dawn was creeping up, and the flitting figures of the Martians were ghostly in the half light, but not so ghostly that Mackenzie could not have picked them off with his revolver. He did pick one or two off, but for all the good that did he might have saved his shots. Instantly it came to him what was the best course to adopt, and dashing to the searchlight he trained it again, and fixed it upon the palace; then he sent sweeping across the lake a shell that wellnigh finished the demolition of the roof.
"That may teach the gentleman Ah'm not to be played with," the Scotsman growled. "A'll give the beggars five minutes, and if these men aren't called off A'll pump another shell in."
Those five minutes were about the most strenuous that Mackenzie had ever lived. It was not a case of waiting for Trancu to call off his men. Evidently those whom he had sent had instructions to get the Marsobus at whatever cost; and, peering through a peep hole, Mackenzie saw for the first time the means by which they had reached the spot unseen by him. There were no fewer than three large airships in the vicinity, and although they made no attempt to fire at the Marsobus—from which Mackenzie adduced that their instructions were to take it unspoilt, a fact for which he was very grateful to Trancu—they deliberately placed themselves in the line of fire of the gun, so that the palace was hidden from Mackenzie.
"All right, me lads," was the Scotsman's inward comment. "You'll get it first—though I don't like using so many good shells."
He changed slightly the elevation of the gun, and one of the airships scattered to the ground. Yet another took its place, and met a like fate; but meanwhile the crowd of Martians who had been landed were hammering away at the Marsobus, seeking to effect an entrance. They little knew the nature of its shell, which blunted the very axes that they used, and caused them to gnash their teeth in fury. Of them Mackenzie took no notice; he was too busy to do so, and besides, he had every confidence in the resistive powers of the Marsobus. He knew that his only hope lay in the possession of the means to make a hash of Trancu's palace—and perhaps of Trancu himself, unless that worthy managed to get into a place of safety.
As suddenly as it had begun, the attack ceased—after the two airships had been put out of action, and Mackenzie had planted another shell fairly on the palace, now without a roof at all. The hammering on the hull stopped; the other airship disappeared from the side of the Marsobus where Mackenzie was, and, running across, the engineer saw that it had gone to earth—not damaged, but merely to pick up the men who had been attacking the Marsobus.
"Either they're got the wind up or Trancu has," Mackenzie said grimly. "I'll know which soon."
He did know soon, for Trancu spoke through the phone, and beseeched the stranger to fire no more.
"It is a mistake, O stranger," Trancu said. "Those air-cruisers were not here last might; they have just come from a cruise, and seeing your strange vessel took it for an enemy. I have called them off."
"You're a no-end liar—and a rotten one at that," Mackenzie breathed to himself. Aloud he said: "I am sorry for the mistake, but I could not help it. Are my friends conscious yet—has the drug worked off? I know it isn't midday, but—"
"I am glad to tell you," came Trancu's voice, "that your friends are almost recovered, and they are going to be put on a boat in a very little while."
"That's good," was Mackenzie's reply, a wry smile wreathing his mouth. "You will kindly include the Fambian Lalcu amongst my friends for the purpose in mind," he went on, and Trancu assured him quickly, as though he were anxious to disabuse the stranger of any idea of further treachery, that the Fambian would accompany the rest.
Mackenzie was pardonably pleased with himself. He thought that he had frustrated the plot of Trancu single-handed, and rescued his companions from a very serious situation. As it turned out, the affair was not by any menus at any end, although it seemed to be when, about an hour after the conversation with Trancu, Mackenzie saw a boat cut across the lake and disembark Appleton and his companions. Mackenzie, overjoyed to see them, waited until the boat was slicing away on its return journey, and then he emerged from the Marsobus to greet them. But he did not do so, for at that moment there came a great rushing and roaring of wind. Wondering what it all meant, he looked across the desert plain, fringed as it was by a jungle belt, and saw, coming like a monster cloud, darkening the early morning sun, a moving wall, the meaning of which he did not understand.
"Can't be rain, that's a cert," he said thickly. "There isn't any rain here. My—word—I believe it's a sand storm, and a big 'un at that. Come on, you fellows!" he shouted! but it was quite unnecessary for him to make any exhortation to speed. Appleton had quickly grasped the import of the phenomenon, and, breaking into a run, called his comrades to hustle.
But although they ran their hardest, it seemed that the sand-storm would beat them. Already they could feel the bite of the sand particles on their faces, and the grit entered between their teeth and into their eyes, half choking and almost blinding them. The nearby jungle had felt the force of the storm, and massive trees were uprooted and flung to the ground, while smaller trees were caught up and hurled far and wide.
"Get in and shut the door, Mac!" bawled Appleton, realizing that the sand, if it penetrated the Marsobus, would most likely put the engines out of action. And although Mackenzie could not hear the words, he was quick-witted enough to grasp Appleton's meaning from the Professor's actions, and into the Marsobus the engineer went, sliding the door to behind him.
Every one of the adventurers realized that it was a race against death, for it was evident that if the sand-storm overtook them before they reached the Marsobus they would be smothered and suffocated. Not a word was spoken as they went rushing forward, those behind him following Appleton as they understood the reason for his making to the side of the Marsobus away from the oncoming cloud of sand; to have gone to the other side would have meant that when Mackenzie opened the door the sand would have driven inside the Marsobus.
They could see the engineer inside, peering at them through the window, and knew that he was ready for the moment when they should reach the machine.
Appleton ran on—and on—and the others kept pace with him. It was hard going, anyway, quite apart from the fact that they had not yet recovered completely from the effects of the drug; their legs seemed to be stiff and their feet heavy. They saw through bleared eyes that were smarting and watering because of the grit in them. The monster Marsobus seemed like some distorted mammoth to them. But it was their refuge, if they could reach it in time.
They reached it, and the instant they did the door slid back. Mackenzie grabbed Teddy, who by some miracle of effort had arrived first, and dragged him in. Tumbling after him came the three others; and, scarcely before Horsman's heels were in, Mackenzie had slid the door back, and without waiting for instructions was bounding away to the elevating apparatus. He had had the engine going in readiness, realizing that the one way to prevent the Marsobus being buried beneath the sand was to get it off the ground.
But Mackenzie failed in his object. For some reason, perhaps because he was flustered, he made a mistake, and instead of rising, the Marsobus made a deliberate rush into the sand-storm, and before Mackenzie had time to rectify his error, the sand, driven as it seemed by a high power blast, had enveloped the Marsobus.
"Change direction, you ass!" Appleton almost howled, making a dash for the steering apparatus and the Scotsman relinquished his post.
Appleton, however, made as bad a blunder as Mackenzie had made, and instead of merely changing the direction of movement, he brought the Marsobus to a standstill and then, try how he did, he could not get it to move.
"We're in a nasty mess, fellows!" the Professor said. "This is one of the clouds that Earth astronomers have always been puzzled about; we knew they couldn't be rain-clouds, and suggested they might be sand clouds. Now we know that they are, Lalcu," he turned to the Fambian, "how long do these storms last as a rule?"
"Sometimes for several days!" was the perturbing reply. "And they pile up drifts of scores of feet in places!"
"Then we can reckon we'll be smothered over!" was Appleton's comment. "Mac, get busy! See what's wrong with the engines and Heaven help us if we can't get 'em working! If we can, we may be able to rise out of this mess, so the sooner we try the better, because the less will be the weight that we've got to break through!"
Mackenzie got to work immediately but it was as he himself had imagined. When he had emerged from the Marsobus, the driving force of the storm had sent in sand-particles in a fine shower which had found their way into vital spots. The engineer saw after a while that it was going to be a lengthy job. He reported the fact to Appleton, expecting an outburst from him, but instead, the Professor took it quite calmly.
"I've no doubt," he said, "that we shall be able to clean up things all right, and I'm not sorry to have to stay here because I have a reckoning to take up with Mister Trancu. Mac, we've not had time before but, thanks for what you've done. How d'you do it?"
Mackenzie grinned us he pointed to the gun.
"That's the beggar that did it," he said grimly. "Trancu's got a palace without a roof—that's all! True, it cost us about half a dozen shells, but I guess it was worth it!"
Teddy Craig who had been peering out of the still uncovered window watching the impenetrable wall of moving sand, red, almost golden-red, in the light east out by the illumination of the Marsobus, suddenly exclaimed:
"Say, Chief, I think the wretched storm is dying down! Look!"
Appleton and the rest were at his side in an instant, and the Professor very soon confirmed Teddy's impression. The sand, which had previously been moving at a terrific pace, was now certainly slower in its movement.
"I believe you're right, Teddy," Appleton said. "If so, it will mean we shan't have so much trouble to get out. Let's hope it's so, any way!"
Only partly was that hope fulfilled. The sand-storm did abate much more quickly than Lalcu had imagined it would, and yet, so furious had been its action, that the drift had swept up and over the Marsobus, which was well and truly buried. Even when Mackenzie, with the assistance and advice of Appleton himself, had got the engines to work again, having cleaned them in every part, and seen that every particle of sand had been removed, the Marsobus was like a blind thing afflicted with partial paralysis. It moved, it is true, as with great labour and well it might for there was, as the adventurers discovered afterwards, a very mountain of tightly packed sand above it and around it. It was only the care with which Appleton had calculated the tensile properties of the hull that saved the Marsobus from being crushed in, to become the tomb of its occupants.
Standing there upon its thrust out wheels, the great mechanism responded with effort to the urge of its engines and slowly moved forward. On and on and on, with painful endeavour it went, the watchers inside seeing the sand gradually give before the relentless movement until at last there came the vision, to the adventurers the wonderful vision, of clear daylight as the bow finished boring its way through.
"By St. Andrew, we've done it, Chief!"
"Rather more easily than I had hoped for," Appleton admitted. "Directly we're out we'll have a snap or two of that drift. It's up to you, Horsman, as photographer in charge."
"Right oh, Chief," the airman said with a grin. "Honest injun, I thought I'd taken my last photograph. And there is one I want to take before I cash in."
"What is it, Horsman?" Teddy asked, the infectious gaiety of the moment showing itself in his boyish face, aged not a little, however, since that day when he had stood and looked down upon the tower of Protton School, the day that had been fate's appointed time for recasting the lines of his life.
"Why, I want a snap of Mr. Trancu drinking a whole quart of his white wine with somewhere about a pound of his rotten drug in it!" was Horsman's reply.
A ripple of laughter went the round of the Marsobus at the young man's words, and Lalcu having, at his request, had them interpreted to him, volunteered to provide sufficient drug of some sort to turn Trancu into something like a dozen sorts of phenomena.
"One thing at any rate I will do," the Fambian said, "I will speak with Hoomri and tell him how treacherously Trancu has dealt with you, the honoured guests of Fambia."
Lalcu did that while photographs were being taken of the tremendous mound of sand that had buried the Marsobus, and probably of all the pictures that Horsman had taken, that was one of the most impressive. Certainly it is one of those most treasured, even to this day, by those who survived the amazing adventures on Mars. Towering so high that the Marsobus itself looked like a midget, the red sand threw back a scintillating glory as the sun's rays impinged upon it. Beyond the mound the jungle belt looked a sorry picture of its one time self; it had the appearance of a half-plucked hen. Huge trunks had been hurtled hundreds of yards, one indeed, rested upon the very top of the mound, grim token of the fact that the very drift that had threatened to destroy the Marsobus had also, as it happened, served to protect it from injury at least, for even the peculiar metal of which the machine was built must have suffered as the result of something like a ton weight being hurled upon it with terrific force.
Another strange thing that had happened was that the lake in the centre of which the City of Anula lay was almost filled in by the sand. Instead of free water, there was now an oozy mass which, as Lalcu explained, would call for long and tedious pumping before it was cleared away by being forced along the canal to the nearest lock where a filtering apparatus was installed specially for this purpose since these sand-storms were of very frequent occurrence on the planet.
Anulans were already down on the shore of the island, evidently estimating the amount of damage that the storm had done, and the sight of them made Craig turn to Appleton and ask:
"What's the next item on the programme, Chief? I mean about Trancu? You said you wanted to settle accounts with him."
"So I do," was Appleton's reply. "And I'm going to do it. Yesterday I learned—he told himself—that he had the most wonderful telescope on the planet and—"
"He has," Lalcu volunteered confirmation. "That is, if rumour be true, for Trancu has violated the law of Wooda by withholding information of a proper kind, and but for the affair with the Shangas, the matter would have come to a head."
"YOU must know," said Lalcu, "that Fambia and Limburia, besides the Dracolians, have been in consultation about the best means to force Trancu to place this new discovery of his scientists at the disposal of all. It is a marvellous improvement on anything of its kind."
"Excellent," Appleton said with a short laugh. "I rather fancy that Trancu only told me out of boast. Anyway, I asked his permission to use it during the night and he promised that I should. Of course. I can see now why he promised, there was going to be no opportunity. Well, there's going to be a different story to tell. I'm going to have that telescope!"
Lalcu shrugged his shoulders as though he were able to believe anything that the White Skin said.
"Mac," Appleton called out to the Scotsman. "You seem to be a pretty good shot. Train the gun on—on—what's that tower over there, Lalcu?" he asked, pointing to a tremendously high edifice surmounted by a golden dome. Mackenzie remembered having seen it during the night, lighted up so that it looked like a glowing orb in the heavens.
"That is the symbol of the power and the glory of Trancu!" said the Fambian. "While it stands, Trancu reigns! When it falls, the end of his reign has come."
"Good," Appleton exclaimed. "Mac, you'll take aim dead for that and I'll do the rest!"
"I'd take deader aim if I were only sure that Meester Trancu were shut up in the beastly globe!" Mackenzie growled as he squatted behind the quick-firer that had proved so effectual in bringing Trancu to reason during the night hours. "Say when—and I'll pop one in, Chief!"
Appleton scarcely heard him, for he was speaking to Trancu himself by means of the wireless, and the King of the Anulans, beginning by laughing at the preposterous demand, came down to an almost cringing agreement when Appleton said sternly:
"If the telescope is not unfixed and sent over here within an hour, Trancu, I'll blow the top off your symbol of power, and then—well, you know what happens then."
And Trancu promised that the demand should be met.
"Beware of the craft of Anula!" was Lalcu's injunction, quoting a well known maxim in Fambia. "Seldom have the Anulans kept faith! I doubt the humility of Trancu!"
Confident of the imperviousness of his Marsobus to anything that he had yet heard of or seen in Mars, Appleton simply smiled, although during that next half-hour he was keenly watching every movement visible on the island. There was, however, little to arouse suspicion, all the activity seemed to be quite normal. A little while before the time given had elapsed. Trancu spoke through the phone and informed Appleton that the telescope was on its way, and would be placed on board a ship and sent across the lake.
"Very good!" was all that Appleton said to him; to Mackenzie and Horsman, however, he said: "Now, fellows, keep a good look out and at the least sign of anything hostile, please yourselves!"
"And Ah do know weel what that'll be!" grunted Mackenzie.
Hostility there was, but it was unperceived until it was too late. The ship set off from the island, sliced across the lake, and ran to a mooring place on the shore, several men carrying what seemed to be a heavy object well encased, landed and began marching across the desert sands towards the Marsobus, and then all of a sudden there uprose from the lake a dense black cloud.
"The craft of Anula!" cried Lalcu. "Behold, the cloud of darkness!"
The memory of that day on which they had landed on Mars, came back to the adventurers as they saw the great black cloud gaining in volume and density, they remembered, too, the paralysing effect of the inhalation of the fumes. There was a difference now, however; they had experienced the thing before and knew what to expect and the precautions to take. Appleton, who had been standing by the opened window, shut it immediately but kept the metal covering off, quite confident that nothing could penetrate, not even the subtle fumes of the chemically prepared cloud. The lights were switched on, and it was a weird sight to watch the advancing cloud which had by now enveloped the men who had landed, though not to suffocate them, for as the adventurers had seen, the moment the cloud began, these men had fixed on respirators.
"Mac," Appleton said quietly, "we're not going to wait here on the ground—up you go!"
The engineer obeyed the order and the Marsobus at once began to climb vertically, easily beating the cloud which was rolling up from the earth's surface.
And high above it, the adventurers were able to look down, but to see nothing that was happening on the lake, and little that was taking place in the parts of the city near the shore, for the cloud was by no means a respecter of persons.
"Tell me, Lalcu," Appleton asked, "wherein lies the value of something that blinds both sides?"
Lalcu smiled.
"The value lies here," was the reply: "that each nation of Wooda has its own poison cloud, and there is something different in each one of them, so that the mask that protects from one will not do so from another.
"It is not merely a case of befogging an enemy, but of rendering him incapable of movement as you know happens! Besides, to envelope a foe in a cloud means that when the cloud lifts you are in the better position to attack than the foe is, and, moreover, the possession of flying machines means that when you have smothered your enemy, you can fly over and drop bombs."
"Thanks!" said Apple ton. "I suppose Trancu would have tried that on—. There you are. The beggars are coming. We're in for a douce of a time!"
There was no need for him to indicate what was happening, for all could see two huge air-cruisers rising from the farther side of the city.
"What are we going to do, Chief?" Horsman asked. "Fight?"
"If they want it!" Appleton said grimly. "First we might try a bit of talk with Trancu. I'm not particularly anxious, really, to do any fighting!"
He opened the windows and phoned up Trancu, who came on after a while.
"Sorry, but your treachery was no use," Appleton told the Anulan. "If you're advised by me you'll call off those two air-cruisers and—oh, I'm sorry if I misunderstood you!" he switched off when Trancu assured him that the cruisers were not intending to attack, but were coming over to find out what had happened.
"He's trying to make me believe that it's all a mistake, or rather that it happened because some of his people were discontented, and knowing what we had threatened to do, saw an opportunity to cause a rising, which he says they would have done if the globe had been blown off the tower. A likely story—"
"I don't think!" snapped Horsman. "Say, Chief, let's blow the beastly thing to bits and—"
There was little time for Appleton to say anything upon that matter because at that moment one of the air-cruisers, now not many yards distant, fired upon the Marsobus. The shell struck, but beyond making the Marsobus shiver, had no effect.
"Let 'em have one, Mac," Appleton ordered, but the shell that Mackenzie sent over missed its object and before he could fire a second, Teddy Craig, who had been looking out of the stern window, came pelting into the main cabin, crying:
"I say, Chief! there's a crowd of flying machines coming up over the canal! Look like Shanga machines and—-"
Appleton waited to hear no more, but went dashing aft and looked at the approaching flight of planes. Lalcu, standing by his side with a glass to his eyes, said:
"Friend, those are Shanga machines! But why they should come here I do not know, unless—unless Fambia has routed them!"
It was on the tip of Appleton's tongue to say, "I hope not!" but be refrained—after all, the quarrel between Fambia and its slaves was nothing to do with him.
His attention was drawn away from the coming of the Shangas and of everything else, except the attack of the Anulans, who were still firing. Horsman, without waiting for further instructions had continued to fire at them, and although he had not been as successful as Mackenzie had been, he managed to send a shell sweeping clean along the deck of one of the air-cruisers, ripping it off and leaving the cruiser listing badly; and yet so remarkable was the style of construction, that it still remained in the air. The adventurers realized the advantages of this type of vessel over any that were constructed on Earth, the absence of wings as on aeroplanes and of gas-envelope as on airships, and the fact that the structure was, in fact, very like a sea-going vessel with double decks, and that the machinery controlled from the ground by radium was right in the heart of the armour, made the air-cruisers not only very formidable foes but very safe instruments of warfare. Only a straight hit, apparently, striking right into the machinery as Mackenzie's two fortunate shells had done, could put the cruisers out of action, and despite the fact that the hull of the Marsobus was impenetrable by Martian shells, there was a danger of disaster inasmuch as the windows necessarily had to be uncovered.
Appleton naturally was somewhat apprehensive of the outcome of the fight, but since, in a measure, he had asked for it even although be had not expected it to happen, there was no going back.
As he manoeuvred the Marsobus to the confusion of the enemy, he was wondering whether the approaching Shangas would intervene. For his own sake he wanted that to happen, yet on the other hand he did not want to embroil the Shangas with any more foes than they had already—he did not know that they had many more since he had left Fambia!
Several useless shots from the Marsobus—shots which struck but did no damage—convinced Appleton that after all the best plan was probably to attack the City of Anula instead of its cruisers, and he turned to Teddy Craig, who was standing by his side.
"Tell Mac and Horsman to try and knock the top off that wretched tower, Teddy," he instructed the boy who went out promptly and delivered the message.
Appleton had swung round the Marsobus, with her planes now extended, and was heading like the wind for the city, to the evident amazement of the Anulans in their cruisers. They had been struggling gamely to rise higher than the Marsobus and when they succeeded through the fact of Appleton suddenly swooping, they were left nonplussed for a short while. It was only a few minutes, but they were sufficient for the Marsobus to get a good lead on the cruisers and to be over the city before they could catch her. Mackenzie and Horsman, who had held their fire the instant they divined Appleton's intention to get within easier range, opened out, and it was Horsman's shell which, missing the tower, struck a building which went up in a terrific explosion.
"What's that, Lalcu?" Appleton asked the Fambian, who said that it was the radium power-station. "It means," he said excitedly, "that Trancu is powerless now and—"
"Those cruisers will have to give up the fight!" snapped Appleton gleefully.
The Fambian nodded, but Craig, who was back at that moment and heard what was said, put in:
"They're too late, Chief. The Shangas have got 'em!"
His voice throbbed with excitement, as well it might; for the moment that the building exploded, and before the sound had rumbled away to silence, the Shanga sun-planes had arrived, Recognizing the Marsobus and understanding that his friends were in trouble, Bracu had given the order to attack; the swarm of tiny planes fell to with a will, simply smothering the cruisers with the rays from their radium guns and sending them crumpled masses of metal to the ground.
Appleton being in the bow of the Marsobus had not seen this, but now that Teddy told him in rapid words what had happened, the Professor swung the Marsobus round again and raced towards the Shangas.
One of the planes detached itself from the rest and came to meet the Marsobus. Appleton, when they got near to each other, was able to recognise the Shanga in it—it was Bracu himself. They met, hovering in the air, and Appleton, opening the bow window, called out to the Shanga:
"Greeting, Bracu—but what brings you here? You did not know that we were in trouble and—"
"No, friend," was the grim reply of the Shanga, spoken slowly. "We came for other reasons, which I cannot tell you now. Still, I am glad to have been of service, although I see that you did not need us, really! The treachery of the Anulans again! Listen, friend, you have done us a good service, too, by destroying the power-station, because I received word only an hour ago that Trancu had joined in alliance with the Fambians who had found out that we were coming this way, though why, they cannot know! And Trancu had promised to intercept us. When I first saw the air-cruisers I thought they were up for us, but I knew different when I saw them firing at you. Now we must go."
"Where to?" Appleton asked him.
"That I cannot tell you, friend," was the reply. "But know this: that all Wooda is in arms against the Shangas, and the Shangas must do what they think best to prevent defeat! Farewell!"
Before Appleton had time to say a word, the Shanga had withdrawn his head into the plane and was gone back amongst his companions, the whole swarm of whom immediately headed up along the canal again.
"Now, what does it all mean, Lalcu?" Appleton asked the amazed Fambian, who had heard the more or less one-sided conversation. "You'd better get into touch with Hoomri, I think, while I just pay my compliments to Trancu!"
Appleton's compliments to Trancu took the form of informing that gentleman that the price of the saving of Anula from further annoyance was the immediate delivery of the microtelescope! Trancu, obviously very much perturbed, persisted in his assertion that the whole thing was a mistake—that the cruisers had not gone out at his instigation to attack the strangers.
"Well, things are level," was Appleton's even reply. "We didn't mean to smash your power-station, we were aiming at something else. Where's that telescope?"
"The men who landed from the ship have it!" Trancu said, evidently hoping to bluff the strangers to the very end, but Appleton refused to be bluffed. He put two and two together and was convinced that the fact of the men having been provided with respirators and the smoke-cloud having been created, proved that Trancu had played traitor. No purpose was to be served, however, by arguing with Trancu, and he decided that the best plan was to seem to accept his statement but at the same time to maintain his own demand.
"Very well," he said. "Call those men back, let them get somehow—you'll know best how that's possible—out of the smoke-cloud, and go up to the lock, land, and leave the telescope there for me. If it's not there in an hour's time, I shall come back."
He gave the Anulan no time to refuse or to lie, but turning from the phone, steered the Marsobus along the course of the canal towards the lock that could be seen several miles away.
Arrived there, he descended, had the hull of the Marsobus inspected to see whether it had been damaged by the shells from the air-cruisers, and finding that except for a dent or two, there was no harm done, told his companions they could do what they liked for a while. He then settled down to converse with Lalcu, who, till then, had been busy conferring over the wireless with Hoomri.
From Lalcu Appleton gathered information of all that had happened at Fambia since their departure, and the thing that worried him chiefly was that the Fambians had been able to unite all the nations of Wooda against the Shangas.
"And the Shangas will be defeated," the Fambian said firmly. "Of course, I know your opinions on the matter, friend, but after all you cannot understand. Imagine us, a people famed throughout Wooda for our scientific attainments, our wisdom, being conquered by the Shangas who have been our slaves for ages!"
"I don't doubt your scientific attainments," Appleton said quietly, "but I do doubt your wisdom. However, it's nothing to do with me, after all, whether you have slaves working for you or free men: only I'd have liked to have been the means of tiding over the gulf between you. And what does Hoomri say about the Shangas being up here? Are they going to attack some other people who have joined against them?"
"That no one knows," Lalcu told him. "But it will be known before long, for they can do nothing that is not seen through the long distance vision-giver. The strange thing is that another flight of their planes has gone towards the north cap. Hoomri thinks it must be a ruse to draw the defenders from Fambia so that the Shangas who remain around the city can attack with less risk."
"Anyhow, it's nothing to do with me!" was Appleton's decision. "If it had not been for Spadu we should never have been mixed up in any quarrel in Wooda."
"I know," said Lalcu. "And by the way, Hoomri tells me that Spadu, who had been marked down for consignment to the Land of Death, after his last attempt on you by means of Black Skins, has escaped, and no one in Fambia knows where he is."
"Well, he can't do much harm I suppose," Appleton suggested. "But look you, here come Trancu's messengers for sure!"
He pointed to a boat that had issued, from the smoke-cloud in the distance and was racing towards the lock, to arrive in due course and to stop there. Lalcu and Appleton went down to the canal side, and the rest of the adventurers, who had been closely examining the tremendous pumping plant near by, promptly gave up their immediate task and followed them.
"There may be trouble, fellows," Mackenzie said to them. "Ah'm getting into the habit o' looking for trouble. Give me the old Earth for peace."
"When we can find it again," Horsman laughed back at him. "Perhaps this telescope thing the Chief's so keen about may help to that end. For myself, I'm not at all averse to staying here though."
"Princess Amabius is a delightful young lady," Ashby said with a grin, and Horsman flushed.
"If she hadn't been so delightful we'd never have got mixed up in all this trouble," Mackenzie said. "Horsman, 'tis you who've turned our scientific trip into a cinema adventure."
"That shows what a—a—jolly old ass you are, Mac," Horsman told him genially, "I can't help—"
"Your face, I suppose," Teddy said, side-slipping quietly as Horsman made a grab for him. "Don't get riled, and don't get married. The Chief would be awfully wild about that, you know. And you'd be lonely if we left you here with your Martian bride!"
"If you don't shut up about the—"
"Dear girl," Ashby taunted him, but stopping at once and apologising when he caught the look in Horsman's eyes. "By Jove," he went on, "the Chief's got something—perhaps it's that jolly old telescope!"
The little band hurried to the canal side, where Appleton was standing with a well bound box in front of him, and a half-dozen Anulans, sullen and by no means friendly in looks, were just getting back into their boat.
"Got it, Chief?" Horsman asked.
"Don't know yet," was the reply, as Appleton stopped and unlocked the box. Lifting the lid, he looked in and then said, "yes, it's here—or it looks like it. Now I vote we get back into the bus and leave Trancu and his crowd to do any old thing they like. I say, Lalcu," he turned to the Fambian. "There's little water being pumped through the lock. What's the matter?"
"Nothing is the matter," Lalcu informed him. "It is so at this time every year. We are now getting our winter when the frost departs and the water is not there to be pumped. During our winter our people live by the water that is conserved in the lakes."
Appleton looked along the canal, which was like these others that the adventurers had seen—a natural channel, reminiscent of the long-past days when Mars had been "young," and he marvelled, as he had done many times before, at the ingenuity and industry of the Martians. For this natural channel, once no doubt a water-bed, had been straightened out, he learned, by the wonderful earth-melting apparatus that he had seen in operation on the previous journey. As the Marsobus had come up from Fambia, Appleton had seen that the canal was a double one, like several others that he had noticed, and behind that he had solved the problem that had troubled earth astronomers for centuries, ever since Schiaparelli had discovered the duplicate canals and set the imagination of men running riot, for the second canals, artificially made, as the Martians had informed Appleton, were not canals at all. They were vast trenches stretching thousands of miles and in all directions, containing the pipes that carried the manufactured oxygen which, with the forced flow of water, made life possible. That there was wisdom in the method was evident, since all the centres of population were, as has been explained on the islands in the great lake, and therefore the oxygen channels followed the course of the canals.
"Do you know, Lalcu?" the Professor said when they were on their way back to the Marsobus carrying the microtelescope that had caused so much trouble, "we men of Earth have always said that if, as many of us believed, there were life on your planet, it was absolutely necessary that the intelligent beings should live at complete peace—otherwise you could not live at all—life could not continue because the comparative shortage of water—so essential to life in all forms—would render it necessary for a wide-spread population to conserve the water and to ensure that supplies reached every part. Also they thought that the double markings that we were able to point out were to make cross-waterways, because the pipes on all connections branch off at certain points to serve the whole Planet.
"But as you have seen, friend," Lalcu said with a wry smile, "you were wrong in your deductions, although right in your idea. The people of Wooda do not live always at peace, they have their wars, but you know it is the law written in the hearts of all, that the means of living shall not be interfered with, even by foe against foe. It would be impossible to deprive Fambia of what you call oxygen without depriving others as well, and if, for instance, the Shangas up here had risen when their friends did at Fambia, and made it impossible for the water to go down to the city, then other cities that we have passed would also be deprived of water, and the Shangas in Fambia would suffer just the same fate. It is remarkable indeed that you men of the Earth should have come so near to truth."
"Not more remarkable than that the people of Wooda should have adopted that one course that was open to them if life were to continue," Appleton said; "our theories have been based upon common sense. We knew, for instance, that there was no rain in Wooda, therefore we saw that the ice-caps, which increased in winter and decreased in summer, the latter accompanying an increase in the size of the canals—we saw the caps must be formed by a deposition of frost caused by the cooling of the atmosphere."
"Which is exactly what happens," Lalcu told him. "You saw on your other journey the vast tracts of vegetation bordering the canals were then in full summer strength; now as we have come thither the vegetation has been dying off, caused by the lessening quantity of water. During our winter the canals almost dry up, because the water cannot escape from the caps, as you call them; only in the lakes where the people live does water remain throughout the winter, held there by the system of locks, otherwise, the winter would mean death to Wooda!"
In that moment it came to Appleton like a flash, the wild and seemingly impossible idea which was however some explanation of the coming of the Shangas.
"Lalcu!" he rapped. "I have a feeling that the Shangas plan something against the great pumping stations at the caps. Hoomri says that there is a crowd of them gone north as well as south, and you remember how evasive Bracu was!"
"It is impossible!" said Lalcu. "Did I not say that the Shangas as well as all the rest of us would be involved in the general disaster that would follow the interruption of the supply of water. I—"
"My friend," Appleton said quietly. "I understand that, but on the Earth we had a war in which nearly all nations took part, and one side, in the hope of bringing quick victory, used every method that was anathema to civilized man, and besides that flung hundreds of thousands of men away, willing to make a terrific sacrifice in order to triumph. Can't you see, the Shangas, having smashed the pumping stations, would still exist as a remnant and reckon those who died only as soldiers killed in their cause. Moreover. I imagine that if the Shangas succeed in getting into such a position that they could destroy the stations, Fambia and her allies would seriously consider the question of negotiating."
For a few moments Lalcu did not reply; he was evidently impressed by what Appleton had said, and after a while he agreed that there might be something in it.
"Then it's our duty—my duty, I mean—to do what I can to prevent the Shangas carrying out their intention, if that it is their intention," Appleton told him. "I am very reluctant to take sides, but this is not really a matter of sides, so much as one of humanity. Mac!" he called out to the engineer, who was now by the Marsobus, "get the engines going. We're off full speed after the Shangas, without stopping anywhere."
It took but a few moments to explain what was in his mind, and his companions, wide eyed and white-faced as they realized the significance of it all, busied themselves getting everything ready for a resumption of the journey. Meanwhile, Lalcu was in touch with Hoomri telling him what the Professor had suggested. Hoomri, who agreed to the extent that the Shangas might be intending to take a gambler's throw, saw the necessity for swift action.
"We cannot send any force from here," he said, "because the Shangas that remain would attack at once. I'll get into touch with the various places over which they must pass. As far as the south is concerned, I must get the guardians of the station to come out to meet them, since Anula cannot do anything now that her pumping power station is destroyed."
"The White Skin is going after them," Lalcu told Hoomri. "He knows that Anula is the last city this way on the main canal and he is certain that his great machine will be able to overtake the Shangas."
"Tell him that Fambia will never forget!" Hoomri said, and Appleton smiled with pleasure when Lalcu gave him the message.
"Here's where I get a chance to repay King Hoomri for his kindness," he said. "All ready, Mac? Right, let her go!"
Up into the air the Marsobus rose like a bird, nose-headed south, and drove at a speed that simply astonished Lalcu.
Appleton was using the self-propelling rocket system that he had used during the journey from the Earth, and Lalcu, who had not experienced this before, realized that the Professor had not been boasting when he had assured him that it would be possible to overtake the Shangas, quickly though they were travelling.
There was little opportunity at that speed to notice much of the character of the country over which they were passing, and Appleton was disappointed. It seemed that every time he intended to carry on his exploration, something happened to prevent him doing so. Nevertheless, what he was able to observe was of great interest. Lalcu interpreted many things that were mysterious, and by annotating his charts, Appleton gathered at least some information.
There was a marked difference between the character of the land over which they were flying and that through which they had travelled on that other journey down the canal. Then the vegetation had been rich and generous for hundreds of miles on either side of the canals, whereas here, although there were still the vast stretches of vegetation, it was less flourishing and Appleton did not need it to be explained to him that this was because of the proximity of the polar cap with its deposit of frost. Moreover, the summer was at the ending and the cold weather of autumn was causing an increasing deposit of frost, and the cap, instead of melting, was freezing so that there was not the supply of water for the great pumps to drive down along the canals.
Appleton, for all his haste, could not resist the temptation to throw out the wings of the bus and descend low when they were crossing what Lalcu explained was one of the great seas. Like a deep bowl it seemed.
But instead of being a vast expanse of water, it was now nothing but marshland, a marshy jungle, the haunt of monsters that, so low was the Marsobus flying, could be seen threading their way at times through the trees. Horsman's wonderful camera took photographs that were to cause much interest later on. It was only a neck of the sea that the Marsobus had had to cross. Appleton having kept straight on instead of following the somewhat circuitous route of the canal at this point. Then the Marsobus was across, and swinging on her swift way went several hundred miles without stopping, until at last she was over the white-smothered country which Lalcu said was the beginning of the antarctic region of Wooda.
But instead of desolate waste, the country was densely peopled, and the adventurers stared in wonder at the cities that showed here and there in the field of whiteness.
"Hang it all, Chief." Ashby said, "this is nothing like the South Pole at home! I remember when I went south just before Scott's last voyage, there weren't any people! And—"
"Circumstances alter cases, you know," was Appleton's reply. "Though I can't grasp the meaning myself, Lalcu?" he said, turning to the Fambian, "how do these people live here? On Earth, our polar caps are desolate and uninhabitable. Of course I know you've told us that there are the main pumping stations here, but I thought it was a case of slaves being consigned to a very hard life and—"
"It is a hard life," Lalcu said. "And the people up here are all slaves. But even slaves have children, and in the course of the ages there has arisen a race that lives and thrives amidst the cold. Moreover, can't you see that in a way, there is more chance of life up here than there is anywhere else in Wooda? Here, there is always water—at least there is always that which gives water, and as you've said yourself, water is the essential of life."
"Then why the deuce don't all the people live at the poles?" Ashby asked.
"My friend, why should they when by the hard life of their slaves they can live in much better climates and still get water?"
"I suppose that is so," was the reply. "But how do they get food?"
"There is animal life up here." Lalcu said, "and as for the rest, the slaves depend upon those who live elsewhere for many things, even as we depend upon the slaves for water. It is reciprocal!"
"Life on Wooda seems to hang on very slender threads," Appleton put in. "No wonder you people as a rule live at peace! I wish to goodness this wretched revolution were over."
"It jolly well soon would be, Chief," Teddy said in English, "if the Shangas had their way, that is, supposing they are out to do what we imagine. D'you know whereabouts the show is they're making for? I mean are we far from it now?"
"Lalcu says we'll be there in another hour," was Appleton's reply. "Bracu's crowd must have been moving for us not to have caught up yet, even although they had a good start on us. What is it, Lalcu?" he switched off as the Fambian, who had gone out of the forward cabin, came back.
"I've just been speaking with Fancu, the Commander-in-Chief at the pumping station at Galoria. The Shangas have arrived. Bracu demanded a conference and Fancu, who had been told of the Shangas' coming, saw him. Bracu gave an ultimatum that if the station were not delivered into his possession immediately he would proceed to destroy it."
"And then?" Appleton queried.
"Hoomri had told Fancu that a dozen air-cruisers filled with Black Skins are on the way, and that the Shangas are to be resisted to the limit. There has already been a fierce attack by the Shangas, but the Woodan Air Force, the communal force that is controlled by the General Council of the Nations and is responsible for universal law and order, has so far been able to hold them off. Unfortunately, the army at Galoria, like the rest of the inhabitants, has been suffering from a mysterious malady and, unless something happens, it is quite likely that the Shangas will get the upper hand."
"Then something must happen!" Appleton said. "I'll see whether I can get into touch with Bracu and try to get him to hold his hand for a while.
"Nothing doing, Teddy," Appleton told Craig after a while; "I can't get him. Still, we're almost there. Is that Galoria, Lalcu?" he asked the Fambian, pointing to a white stone city that gleamed in the autumn sun, several miles distant.
"It is," was the reply from the Fambian who was peering through powerful glasses. "There is a battle proceeding."
LALCU spoke excitedly: "Shanga planes are flying over the city, fighting with air-cruisers. I can see that there's a good deal of damage being done and—"
"So can I," said Appleton grimly, as he looked through his own glasses. "And, by Jove, there looks like a ground attack as well. But where the deuce has Bracu got the men from?"
"Probably managed to cause a defection amongst the Shangas in Galoria," Lalcu said. "Fancu hinted that he was afraid of that happening."
"Tell Fancu not to interfere with us," the Professor told Lalcu, who assured him that he had already done that.
"How do you reckon on achieving anything?" Teddy asked Appleton, who said that he was determined to join forces with the defenders if, when they arrived, the Shangas would not come to reason.
"I've no wish to take sides in this quarrel, but I'm not going to stand by and witness the destruction of Wooda. Within ten minutes we shall be over Galoria and I shall do my utmost to prevent Bracu carrying out his plan."
The Professor tried to get in touch with Bracu again during the next few minutes, and his failure to do so convinced him that something must have happened to Bracu, but what, he did not know until later, and then it was too late for Bracu to do anything. Meanwhile the Marsobus, with her planes flung out now, and travelling like an aeroplane, swiftly approached Galoria, over which could be seen the terrific air battle that was raging; while on the frost-covered ground was a great company of the weird-looking Shangas advancing on the tremendous block of buildings that formed the main pumping installation on the South Polar Cap of Mars. A ring of air-cruisers was about the works, fighting to keep off the darting sun-planes of the Shangas, while from behind the shelter of the massive walls of the station, hidden men were striving with their radium guns to throw back the land attack. Appleton, having surrendered the steering of the Marsobus to Horsman, after telling him to descend as low as he dare, opened one of the windows and, leaning out, waved his arms frantically as he recognized Bracu himself leading the force making for the station.
The Shangas' attack on the pumping station of Galoria.
What happened then was like a nightmare to the occupants of the Marsobus. For at the moment when Horsman brought his machine almost level with the top of the pumping works, and when Bracu suddenly stopped in his half-running, half-flying at the head of his men, there came a terrific explosion and the Marsobus, which had reduced speed, and was in fact nearly stationary over Galoria, was shot upward by the force of the concussion. Appleton clutched the rail by the window but fell forward, hanging half in, half out, of the Marsobus. The others were hurled from their feet and it seemed to them, even in that moment when all was a maze of scarcely understood sensations, that the Marsobus, uncontrolled as it was now that Horsman was lying prone on the floor, was doomed to destruction.
Horsman was the first to recover after that terrific rocking of the Marsobus, and instantly he was back at the pilot's seat, and had the machine under control.
"Everybody all right?" he called out as he looked through the window and saw a dense cloud of smoke rising from the city beneath, to burst into leaping tongues of flame almost immediately.
Came Mackenzie's voice from the engine-room:
"I'm all right—except for a smashed arm," and Ashby, who had been flung right across the cabin and had knocked Teddy sprawling, picked himself up and ran into the room where the engineer was. He at once took charge of the engine; while Teddy hard at his heels, would have ripped up the sleeve of Mackenzie's left arm but for the fact that the Scot snapped:
"Where's the Chief?"
Teddy jumped and simply slid along the floor to the fore-cabin doorway the moment that Appleton was being hauled in by Lalcu—Horsman, looking on as, acting on his own initiative, he had the Marsobus rising higher above the city.
"Heavens, Chief," Teddy gasped, as he gave Lalcu a hand. "That was a narrow squeak."
"It was, Teddy," Appleton agreed. "That was a tremendous explosion," he was looking down upon Galoria now, and saw that the gate which had been attacked by the Shangas was no longer standing, while the section of the city there was burning furiously. "I suppose one of the Shanga airmen managed to get a bomb of some kind in. We'll go down. Horsman," he said quietly. "There's a big fight going on below."
The fierceness of the fight became more evident to those in the Marsobus when they were once more close down to the city, this time, however, well away from its walls. Appleton realised that it was impossible for him to do anything to stop the fight which would have to go on until one side was beaten, and from the way in which the Shanga planes were tackling the air-cruisers, it seemed to him that Bracu's men must win the day, especially as the latter force was now in the city, and pressing its way farther and farther.
Appleton came to a swift decision. It was useless for him to try and assist the defenders down below because the fighting men were too mixed up, but he could make an assault upon the Shanga planes.
"Get ready, you two," he called out to Horsman and Ashby. "I'm going bang in amongst those Shangas. You'll fire if I give the word!"
"Reckon the Shangas'll have a stiff time even now, Chief," Teddy Craig said as he pointed down the canal, over which could be seen two large air-cruisers coming at a high speed. "That means reinforcements for the defenders, I reckon."
"Get in touch with them, Lalcu," Appleton told the Fambian, who proceeded to do so, and who a few moments afterwards astonished the Professor by saying at the very instant that Appleton was depressing a lever that should send the Marsobus swooping down upon a mass of Shanga planes below:
"I imagine these cruisers came to the help of the defenders, for Spadu is in one of them!"
"What?" snapped Appleton.
"I don't know what it means," was the reply, "All I know is that Spadu answered me!"
"All right—I'm sorry to have to side with Spadu but—
"Ready, fellows?" he called out to Horsman and Ashby.
"Ay, sir," came back Ashby's voice, but before Appleton could give the word for his men to fire, perhaps it was his hesitating dislike to do what he felt really justified in doing, that held him back, a remarkable thing happened. The air-cruisers and the Shanga planes below suddenly ceased fighting, the warring men on the ground fell apart.
"Now what the deuce does that mean?" Appleton exclaimed, but there was no one to answer him. It was evident, however, that something had happened down below to cause a cessation of hostilities. It did not mean that there was no activity, however. The air-cruisers and the planes all kept in the air, manoeuvring as though each side were watching the other. Down in the city itself some sort of a conference was taking place and Appleton decided to get down as low as he could.
When he did so, it was to see that one of the men at the conference was Bracu, who was evidently laying down the law to a Fambian officer.
"Looks as though Bracu's pretty sure of himself," Appleton told Teddy, who was by his side. "There's some mystery I can't understand. I think we'll land outside the city and go up and see what's happening."
He turned the nose of the Marsobus and headed for the snow-covered ground outside, bringing the machine down lightly.
"What next, Chief?" Horsman asked.
"I'm going into the city," was Appleton's reply. "Lalcu, will you come with me?" he asked the Fambian.
"Of course," Lalcu told him, and the Professor, noticing the disappointed look on the faces of his companions, grinned as he said:
"Sorry we can't all go. The bus must be guarded and if anyone tries any trick—anyone from either side—I give you complete freedom to do what you like."
"Thanks, Chief," Mackenzie said rather ruefully. "Eh, mon, but 'tis a sorry worrld we ha'e coom tae. Ye'll keep i' touch wi' us, I suppose?"
"You bet," Appleton promised. "Cheerio, fellows. I'm out to see what the game is."
A moment or so later he and Lalcu were in a collapsible boat that had been carried down to the canal side, and put upon the water that was still being forced along the channel, for with only the autumn setting in, the canals had not been frozen. The rest of the adventurers standing beside the Marsobus, watched them go across, land on the farther side, and then, after a while, the pair disappeared behind the frowning walls of Galoria, having passed in at the opening made by the great explosion.
"A verra wonderful man, the Chief," was Mackenzie's comment, made because he could think of nothing better to say.
"But a downright ass," Ashby said. "He's no right to go off like that into a place he doesn't know, and where, for all he knows, he'll be in a nasty mess. What are you up to, Teddy?" He rapped at Craig who was at the wireless phone that had been fixed into the Marsobus.
"Just trying to get Hoomri," was the calm reply. "Seems to me that's the best way to find out what's happening, though I can't tell you why I think so. However, shut up, I'm through," he said and the three others stared at him as, in halting Martianese, he spoke through the wireless phone. Just as haltingly they were able to understand what he was saying, but it was sufficient to make them realize that things were in a rather bad state.
For the result of the conversation between the youngster and Hoomri was that they learned first that it was true that Spadu had escaped from prison; and secondly, that Hoomri had just obtained information, by means of torture of a captured Shanga, that Spadu had entered into alliance with the Shangas, the basis of which was that Spadu had promised to get the Shangas what they wanted in the way of acknowledged free citizenship on condition that he should be elected King of Fambia when he had brought about that object which he had vowed he was in a position to do.
"Spadu intrigued with certain disaffected Fambians, and came in air-cruisers towards the south," Hoomri said. "The people of the Red Desert—the outlaws—have risen, the Black Skins of Limburia have been recalled by Bracu, who has deserted Fambia, and Fambia is in bad straits!"
"A pretty mess, laddie," Ashby said when Craig was finished with the recital of what Hoomri had told him. "What's Mister Hoomri suggest?"
"He's stumped!" was Teddy's reply. "I've told him what's happened here and he's getting in touch with the C.-in-C. at Galoria, which means we'll have to wait awhile to know what's happened."
"Too much o' the waitin' game for me," Mackenzie growled. "And I'm worried 'bout the Chief."
Worried or not, Mackenzie had to wait, and he waited for something that was dramatic in its import. For two wireless messages came through the now settled night and they were of such a character as to make the little band more than anxious.
First came a message from Hoomri whose report was that he had gathered from the C.-in-C. at Galoria that Spadu had sent word when he arrived within sight of the city, that he came as Ambassador of Fambia with instructions that Hoomri desired the fighting to be stopped because he was willing to negotiate.
"All of which were lies," Teddy told his comrades, "though the real reason of them Hoomri does not know."
Enlightenment on that point came within a few moments in the shape of a message from Lalcu. The Fambian's report was startling enough in all conscience.
"Bracu and Spadu have worked in conspiracy for several days," Lalcu said. "The fight was called off because of Spadu's lying message, but the Shangas, while the conference was being held, managed to get into possession of vitally important parts of certain buildings and now they have the whip hand."
"And you with our Chief?" asked Horsman who was speaking with the Fambian. "What of you two?"
Lalcu's answer came swiftly.
"Shangas attacked us the moment we got into the city," he said. "I succeeded in escaping but what has happened to your Chief I do not know. I am concealed in the house of a very good friend of mine!"
"That's done it, fellows!" Horsman said angrily and firmly. "We'll blow all Galoria to bits to find the Chief. We'll go over the city and do a bit of pounding and—"
"Succeed in doin' what the Chief dinna want done," Mackenzie put in. "I'm for goin' right in to find Mr. Bracu and put the wind up him. Of course, we can't all go as the old bus must be protected. See here, Horsman, I suggest you and Ashby stay and keep guard on't while the kid and I get across to the city. My arm's much better now."
"Well, something's got to be done and that seems as good as anything else," Horsman growled. "An' if anything happens give us the word and we'll just come and get you out, even if we do have to smash every pump in Galoria!"
After seeing that they were well supplied with ammunition for their revolvers, Mackenzie and Craig carried another of the collapsible boats down to the canal side, launched it, and a few moments later were rowing across in the darkness, moving blotches in an expanse of whiteness. Landing, they made their way up to the city and demanded admittance of the Shanga guard at the broken wall.
"We want to see Bracu," Mackenzie said, and there was something in his voice that cowed the Shanga whom he had gripped by the shoulder. The little man promised to lead them whither they wanted to go and they went, the three of them, through the city until they came to a huge pumping station. The whole city seemed to be asleep and Mackenzie managed to make the Shanga inform him that the whole of the inhabitants of Galoria had been compelled to get into their houses, the Shangas having control of the important pumping stations and having threatened to smash them at the least sign of further resistance.
"They've certainly got the whip hand, Mac," Craig said as the Shanga, having obtained admittance for them, led the way through chilly corridors into a large room where the great pumps were installed and working as they worked day and night, during the warm seasons of the year, century after century, in order to maintain life upon the planet.
Even in that moment of anxiety, Teddy and Mac found themselves gazing in wonder at the tremendous plant, the first of its kind they had seen at close quarters, although they had been in the proximity of many of the smaller installations at the island cities along the canals.
"It's oncanny, lad," Mackenzie breathed fervently and reverently, "to think that on things such as this existence depends. Give me our own old Earth after all, where the good Providence has ordered things better!"
"Same here," Teddy agreed. "Hallo, there's Bracu," as the guide led them out of the great pump-room into a small one where Bracu and many of his Shangas were gathered. Bracu was speaking, not to his companions but into a wireless phone, and at the first words they heard the new-comers realized that he was speaking with Hoomri.
"We have control," the Shanga was saying, "we shall have control at the other pole before long, and our force has eluded those who would have stopped them, and in two days they will be over Galoria," which the two listeners knew was the name of the city at the North Polar Cap. "They will not trouble to take possession. Now that we have control here they will, at a word from me, proceed to smash the pumps from the air. If you do not agree to our terms before the two days are up I shall give that word, and I shall destroy the pumps up here. You will grant the Shangas their freedom, and you will make place for Spadu as King of Fambia."
The listeners gasped as they heard, and Bracu, whose back was turned to them, swung round. Spadu also changed position so that he was facing Mackenzie and Craig, and the look that he gave was one that boded no good. As for Bracu, that little worthy looked more afraid than anything else. He seemed about to speak, but Hoomri spoke again at that moment and the Shanga turned to listen and to reply. Hoomri refused to fall in with the request, and Bracu cut off all argument by saying:
"Very well, Hoomri, I'm not discussing the matter at all. If you have not agreed by this time the day after to-morrow, I shall smash the pumps without giving you another chance!"
Bracu again faced Mackenzie and Craig, and it was the engineer who fired the abrupt question at the Shanga:
"Where's our Chief?" Bracu hesitated. He looked from the White Skins to Spadu, from Spadu to the other Shangas in the room.
"Quick!" rapped Mackenzie and his revolver went up and covered the Shanga. "Cover Spadu, Teddy," he said, and the boy obeyed on the instant.
Came then a word, not from Bracu, but from Spadu, and reckless of their lives the Shangas made a rush and flung themselves upon the pair. Both revolvers went off and the shots, missing both Spadu and Bracu, struck down a couple of Shangas whose companions took no heed of that and had the gallant pair down by jerking them off their feet. Against such a mass the couple had little or no chance and, although they put up a bold fight, without their weapons which had been wrenched from them, they were soon overpowered and found themselves bound prisoners, unable to move.
Mackenzie, fuming with rage, vowed frightful vengeance, but Spadu, leering at him as he towered over the trussed pair, said:
"A worthy idea, but one that is doomed to failure. You will have no chance for vengeance; you and your precious Chief will ere long be in the Land of Death! No, Bracu," as the Shanga slipped forward. "Keep to our contract. I am in charge of the revolution, already am I King—though a King without a throne! My word is law to you even as it will be to all Fambia, and even in your new freedom!"
And the captives realized how it was that Bracu had allowed them to be attacked, and why Appleton himself had been captured; Spadu, by reason of his treachery to Fambia and his assistance to the Shangas, had obtained control. It was a sorry outlook, for they know that they could expect little mercy from him.
The Fambian called out an order which brought a number of the Shangas about the captives again, and they proceeded to lift the trussed men and carry them out of the room.
"We're in for it, lad," Mackenzie said to Craig as they were being conveyed, whither neither of them knew.
"We are indeed, Mac," Teddy agreed. "But I'm not altogether disheartened. Somehow, I think that even now we can rely on Bracu; the old fellow looked pretty upset."
"Well, we shall see," Mackenzie said, not very hopefully.
By this time they were being laid upon the floor of a circular glass-domed room, as they could see by the night sky spangled with stars. They were left alone and heard the door click as the Shangas went.
"How are the bonds, Teddy?" Mackenzie asked after a few moments of silence.
"About as tight as steel bands," was the reply.
"So are mine," the engineer said; but despite that, the pair struggled violently for freedom—but struggled fruitlessly until, tired out as they were, they dropped off to sleep, to awaken with the morning light bathing the room and to find Bracu looking down upon them. There was another Shanga with him carrying food and drink.
"Untie their arms," Bracu told his companion, and a few moments later the prisoners were able to sit up, although their legs were still bound; a motion from Bracu sent the other Shanga out of the room, and when he was gone, Bracu said quietly:
"Friends, I am sorry about this—but—"
"Then release us," Mackenzie rapped.
"I would, but I can't," the Shanga said. "If I go contrary to Spadu he will leave us and—"
"You'll still have the whip hand," Teddy told him. "Your Shangas could surely do what you want to do without Spadu's help."
"I know," was the reply, "but our task was made easy by the coming of Spadu who sent a messenger to Fancu who came as a peace negotiator. So it was that we were able to obtain possession without further fighting—by treachery, I admit, but the cause is sufficient justification for us. I cannot now turn on Spadu."
"But you've turned on us, and you've turned on our Chief, the man who saved your life when Spadu would have taken it!" Mackenzie said, and there was a note of scorn in his voice. The shot went home, for Bracu's face twitched and his hands clenched. Mackenzie drove home his point with further scathing remarks about the gratitude of the Shanga who evidently was suffering considerable strain, for suddenly he spun round, opened the door, called in the man who had been sent out, and then, having given him instructions, went away without another word.
Although the whole thing had happened so unexpectedly and so quickly, Mackenzie had taken advantage of it. It had called for but a swift movement for him to draw his big pocket-knife, open it and thrust it beneath where be sat, and Teddy grinned as he saw it concealed a second before Bracu turned back from the door with the Shanga attendant.
"Get on with the grub," Mackenzie told him. "Get it over quickly; we don't want this fellow in the room too long, he might want to move us. Also, let him truss you up again when he goes to do so."
Quite convinced that Mackenzie had a plan that might be worth trying, Craig obeyed, and even had he not been inclined to do so, there would have been little chance of any success in an attempt to escape, because a couple more Shangas came in, evidently sent by Bracu in case the prisoners, although unable to stand, should cause any trouble.
The pair submitted to being bound, and the Shangas left them.
"What's the idea, Mac?" Teddy asked.
"Perhaps a no-good one," was the reply. "But it's worth trying. If you can roll over somehow—heaven knows how!—get the knife between your knees tightly, I may be able to cut through my bonds. After that, of course, I free you, and after that, lad, I've another scheme, but we'll wait for that. What about it?"
"Let's try, whatever it is," was Teddy's answer, and he expected that Mackenzie would proceed with the plan. Instead of which the engineer told him that his Idea was to wait until night time and Teddy had to content himself with that. No one came in during the day, there was no food for them, no more drink. They were left alone, except for the one moment in which a Shanga opened the door and glanced at them, evidently to see if they were still where they had been left.
Towards evening Teddy said: "I don't know what the plan is, Mac, but you haven't forgotten the long distance vision-giver, I suppose?"
"No," was the reply, "I'm risking that!" Mackenzie shut up.
"All right, old chap," Craig laughed at him. "I don't want to know, though it might be as well if I did. I'm leaving it to you!"
"Anyhow, the times come," the Scotsman said as he rolled off the knife on which he had been lying all the time. Teddy watched him, wondering what was to happen, and he quickly realized the meaning that Mackenzie had behind his actions.
"I'm going to pick up the knife with my teeth," Mackenzie said. "Then I'm going to put it between your knees; after that you've got to do a bit o' sawing and—"
"I've got you!" Teddy said quietly. "Carry on!"
Mackenzie carried on, and in a short time, he had the opened knife in his mouth and Teddy was rolling over and over until he was lying alongside Mackenzie.
"Can you do it, Teddy?" the Scotsman asked in muffled tones, and Craig answered him by pushing forward his knees. Mackenzie responded with the knife handle, and Teddy, opening his knees, said:
"Keep the knife steady, Mac," and as the knife touched his lower knee, he brought the upper one down and had it held lightly by the upper muscles.
Immediately afterwards, Mackenzie wormed himself along until he had the bonds rasping upon the knife-blade. With the only effect that the knife dropped from between Teddy's knees.
"No good, I'm afraid, Mac," the youngster said. "We've got to try some other way. I suggest one of us holds the knife in his mouth and see how that works. What do you think?"
"I'd try holding it between my teeth if I could," was the reply. "I've got a strong jaw. We'll see what we can do," and Mackenzie shuffled forward so that he could pick up the knife in his mouth.
This time the experiment proved successful, for as Mackenzie had said, he had a strong jaw and was able to hold the knife steadily enough for Toddy to be able to move his wrist bonds along the blade so that the steel cut into the leather.
And at last the thing that both wanted more than anything else in life happened! Teddy's bonds snapped and his arms were free.
"Good biz, Mac!" the youngster said quietly as he took the knife from the man's mouth, slashed his own leg bonds, and then set Mackenzie free. "But, what next?"
"I'm going to stretch!" was the calm reply. "I'm as stiff as a poker and as cross as a cobra. I'd throttle Bracu and Spadu with one squeeze if I had 'em here. Listen, Teddy, the next thing after that is to use our torches when we can reach the roof of this room."
"That means a bit of work," said the youngster. "There's a table and a chair, and we can put the chair on the table. But that won't take us to the top. I'll have to stand on your shoulders."
"Quite so—it can be done," was the reply. "Just a bit of Morse coding in every direction on the off chance that Horsman and Ashby can see. I can't understand why those fools took our wireless away and left me with my knife when they searched us!"
"Jolly good job for us," said Teddy as be lifted the chair on to the table.
Mackenzie, without a word, climbed up on to the latter, and soon to the chair. Teddy climbed up until he was straddled across the engineer's shoulders, and so found himself right in the glass dome of the room.
"The show is well above any of the other buildings, Mac," he said. "The city's pretty well lighted, so I can pick out the country around. It's as black as the Pit! Shall I try the Morse now?"
"Right now," was the reply, and Teddy spent the next few minutes in signalling:
"Craig speaking! Answer!"
No reply from the direction into which he was signalling, and he turned a point to the right and repeated. Still no reply, again a point, with similar negative result, but Teddy was not disheartened. He moved round in a circle, and flashed the message into the night, hoping, hoping; yet wondering whether the guardians of the Marsobus would see and understand, if they were still there.
For a whole hour Teddy signalled at different points, and had given up all hope when, suddenly, there appeared a flash of light.
"Found 'em, Mac, I think!" he gasped, and there was silence as he repeated the message.
Of a certainty he had found the Marsobus, for the duplicated message was answered in English, with one word: "Explain!"
Teddy explained, and there came the answer:
"We're coming! Keep your light switching to guide us!"
Teddy conveyed the news to Mackenzie, who groaned dismally:
"You're a heavy weight for your age, lad; but I'm sticking it even if my shoulders get shoved into my thighs!"
Teddy, despite the seriousness of the situation, could but laugh, and somehow the lugubrious frivolity of Mackenzie had broken the tension of the moments of suspense.
"I'm not sure the torch will hold out," Teddy told the engineer who ordered him, crisply, to flash it intermittently and not show it continuously.
"I'm not such a coon as not to do that, Mac," Teddy said, almost facetiously. "My biggest worry is how we're going to speak to the fellows when they do arrive. We can't yarn through thick glass!"
"Wait till they get here and then we'll smash the glass," Mackenzie told him.
So they waited, these two, with varying emotions, wondering what was going to be the result of all their efforts, and neither of them dreaming in the least of the full purport of what they were in the process of doing.
Teddy's torch glinted into the night and died out, flashed again and disappeared, and now and again there came an answering flash from the hidden distance. Nearer and nearer those flashes came and at last the looming bulk of the Marsobus came over the domed glass roof. Teddy snicked off his light as soon as he was able to pick out the machine, and called down to Mackenzie:
"Shall I smash the glass, Mac?"
"Yes, lad," was the reply. "Wrap your cap round your knife and hit hard, don't worry too much about the noise, 'cos we can at any rate be hauled out if necessary. I don't care what happens now. Flash 'em what you're going to do, though!"
Craig obeyed, and although there came no answer from the Marsobus, he understood that his message had been grasped because he could see, by the flashes of his torch, the face of Ashby glued to the window. Then, Teddy rapped sharply on the glass roof. Several times it was necessary to strike, but eventually there was a subdued crack, and a chunk of glass dropped back into the room. Teddy's torch streamed through the hole and broke upon the window of the Marsobus. That window opened instantly and there came Ashby's voice:
"Get clear. I'm going to smash every inch of glass and then drop a line for you two!"
"Tell him we don't want that, Teddy," Mackenzie said. "Tell him what we want is a line with a couple of revolvers and some ammunition at the end of it, and the Marsobus overhead to put the wind up Bracu and company if we're not free within an hour from now. We're going to find the Chief."
Teddy gave Ashby the purport of Mackenzie's remarks, and the old-time sailor man almost laughed as he answered.
"Tell Mac," he said, "that we'll turn Galoria into a dust heap within the next hour if the three of you aren't free! The revolver things are coming down now!"
A few moments later a line dropped from the poised Marsobus, and so sure was the eye of Ashby that the end of it, weighted with the revolvers, entered the hole in the glass. Teddy rapidly unfastened them, and prompted by Mackenzie, told Ashby to remain over the roof for the next hour, when an "all clear" signal would be given from that room.
"Right oh!" said Ashby, and Teddy dropped down from Mackenzie's aching shoulders.
"What's next, Mac?" the youngster asked, and the engineer said:
"Turn on the gleam again, lad. We'll just blow a hole through the door and get out!"
The noiseless ammunition of the revolvers proved its worth again in this emergency, for the powerful shells, fired at close quarters, blew off the lock of the door without the least sound, and the pair of adventurers emerged into the dark corridor expecting to find guards, but seeing none. They understood immediately that the Shangas, believing they had their prisoners well secured, had not thought it worth while to waste men as sentries.
"Do you know the way where you want to get to, Mac?" Teddy whispered, and the engineer muttered back that he did. "Well, that's more than I do," Craig told him. "But lead on!"
Down the dark corridor Mackenzie led as though he knew every inch of the ground, down flights of stairs up which the pair had been carried by the midget Shangas the day before, to see, presently, a white splash of light as a door opened and shut quickly.
"Down, lad," whispered Mackenzie thickly. "That's Bracu!"
Into the shadows the couple darted, and Mackenzie whispered the words that set Teddy's nerves a-tingling. He tensed himself for the moment, which came at last; the two hidden men sprang forward and fell upon the Shanga, felling him and literally smothering his sharp cry by their huge bulk.
Mackenzie's hands gripped around Bracu's throat, almost throttled the Shanga and the Scotsman, holding him, breathed into his ear:
"Bracu, there's no need for you to play traitor to Spadu, you're our prisoner now. All I want you to do is to keep quiet. We'll do the rest. Agreed? Rub your hand on my coat sleeve if you do. Can't let you speak yet!"
The big hand of the little man crept up and down Mackenzie's sleeve, and the engineer said quietly:
"Listen, Bracu. Any tricks, and you're a dead man. We've got revolvers, both of us, and we shall use them. Also know this: that hovering over this plane is the Marsobus ready to drop stuff that will send it up into a bursting flame if anything happens to us, if indeed we're not back in that room whence we've come, within the next hour. Any trick, and as I say, you're a dead man. Where's Spadu? Which way do we get to him?"
"He will be in the room whence I have come in a few minutes," was the Shanga's reply as Mackenzie, just a little hesitatingly, relinquished his grip on his throat.
"Who is there now?" Mackenzie asked.
"Shangas," was the answer. "Listen, friend, for still I regard you as a friend. You heard what took place between Hoomri and me yesterday. Hoomri has called us again and refused definitely to give in. Spadu has told him that he shall not wait until to-morrow—the first damage shall be done to-night to show that no idle threats will have been made. Honestly, friend, I am afraid of Spadu. I do not trust him. If the way in which he is behaving now is anything like he will behave when he gets the throne of Fambia then the new freedom of the Shangas will be little better than the old servitude."
"Glad to hear it, Bracu," Mackenzie said grimly. "You're a wise fellow, and I'm surprised that you should have been taken in by Spadu—a traitor once is a traitor always, so I've found—at least, he's not to be trusted. However, we're going to drop his little game if you keep your tongue still. Which you'll have to do unless you want to be blown to pieces with a shell from my revolver. What do you say?"
"I am your prisoner," Bracu said as though he were very much relieved to be that.
"Sorry not to trust you altogether," Mackenzie told him as he took away the radium gun. "It's only what you deserve, you know. Now, Teddy, one of us has got to go into that room and put the wind up Spadu. Think I'd better go and—"
"Seems to me, Mac," the youngster said, "that since you've had a busted arm you'd be better here holding Bracu as the hostage. I'll go in."
"Don't like to admit it, lad," Mackenzie told him, "but I think you're right. If it hadn't been for my arm we might not have dropped into the mess at all."
"Anyway, I had two arms," Teddy said, with a low laugh. "And they didn't save us. No one could have done more than we did. All I'm wanting is your instruction as to what I'm to do when I get in."
"You'll inform the Shangas that we've got Bracu a prisoner. If Spadu is there tell him that unless he frees the Chief, and lets us all get out at once, our bus will make a mess of him and Galoria! Also, if it's necessary, give Mr. Spadu a taste of things. Understand?"
"Thoroughly," was the boy's grim reply, and a moment or so later there came the streaming light from the door, and the silhouette of Craig's figure as he passed through at a bound. He left the door open, of set purpose, so that Mackenzie might hear what was happening.
Teddy's eyes rested upon a number of Shangas who had jumped to their feet as he entered and advanced towards him on the instant that they recognized him.
"Keep off!" the youngster said in Martianese. "Listen!" and there was a note in his voice that brought the Shangas to a full stop. "You thought we—my friend and I were held prisoners, unable to escape. You were wrong. Not only have we escaped but Bracu, your chief, is a prisoner in our stead and above this building at this very moment the great machine of the men from Earth is hovering, ready to destroy unless the White Chief is set free at once. Where is the Fambian Spadu?"
None spoke; all seemed too amazed to speak. The Shangas looked one from the other as if wondering what to say.
Then, of a sudden, there came a low cry from the farther end of the long room which was an auxiliary pump-room, and Teddy, glancing quickly, saw a sight that made him gasp.
For coming towards him just at the moment that the Shangas, seeming to have plucked up courage, or to have decided that the While Skin was bluffing them—Teddy wondered which—leapt forward again, was none other than Amabius, the Princess Amabius, daughter of Hoomri.
"Beware, behind you, O friend!" the woman cried, and Teddy, jerked from his momentary surprise, turned round sharply just in time to see Spadu springing for him.
"Beware, behind you, O friend!" cried the princess Amabius.
CRAIG'S mind worked rapidly as he saw Spadu moving towards him. He realized that the most dangerous man to him was the Fambian, and that if he coped with him he would be most likely to arrange matters with the Shangas.
He therefore fired, and Spadu dropped to the floor with his right leg buckled beneath him. Teddy sprang for him, and leaping over him, faced the Shangas, who when they saw the Fambian fall had stopped in their rush.
"Bring Bracu in, Mac! I've got Spadu!" Craig called out, and the Shangas in the room, although they could not understand what he was saying, instinctively looked towards the door, to see, a second or so later, Bracu enter with Mackenzie behind him holding him covered with his revolver.
"Good work, lad!" the engineer said when he saw what had happened. "Now listen, Bracu," he said to the Shanga: "I don't care what you do about smashing the pumps though I know our Chief does. But what I want is the Chief himself—and at once. No—you can count Spadu out because he's our prisoner, and any attempt to rescue him will mean that you suffer for it. Make up your mind quickly. I—he stopped as he saw Princess Amabius standing between the Shangas. "My word, Teddy!" he said. "Here's a go!"
"Jolly good go, too," was the boy's reply. "If she hadn't come in Spadu would have got me. She shouted and gave warning that he was behind me!"
While they were speaking, Amabius advanced from amongst the Shangas, and all eyes turned upon her, Spadu's eyes glaring at her with anything but a lover's devotion in them.
"Friends," Amabius said, "I can tell you where the White Chief is."
"That lets Bracu off, anyway," Mackenzie said to Teddy. "But we'll make the beggar bring Appleton along here. I'm not risking anything!"
"Carry on," Craig told him. "I'll keep Spadu covered. I'd like to say thanks to the lady first, though."
"Right oh!" Mackenzie said. "But don't be long."
Teddy turned to the Princess, who was standing a few feet away.
"I thank you," he said to her, "for having given me the warning that no doubt saved my life."
"It is but a payment," the girl said. "Once you and your friends saved me: as you may save me again!"
Both Mackenzie and Teddy started at her words, but before they could question her she had enlightened them.
"Spadu, whom I spurned after he escaped from Fambia, intrigued with the Black Skins from Limburia, and they seized me, carried me off and gave me into the hands of the man whom once I was to marry. He brought me hither, hoping, no doubt, to be able to force my father's hand at the last when, as I know he will do, he refuses to give way. I have been held prisoner since, but I escaped! How, it does not matter since I came in time to save you, and to see the downfall of Spadu!"
"There is more here than I can understand," Craig told her. "But of this you may be assured, that when we leave Galoria you go with us, and your safety is in our hands!"
"Good for you, lad," came Mackenzie's voice. "That ought to be enough. Now let me get to work." He turned to Bracu, who was looking anything but pleased, and said: "Listen, I want our Chief. I give you the chance to send for him, and if he is not here without any delay, I'm going to shoot you and Spadu!"
A flicker crossed the Shangas face; it was as though he were pleased at one part of the ultimatum. He looked from Mackenzie to Spadu, still lying there where he had fallen when Toddy's shot had hit him. And Spadu's face was a study of emotions. He was furious, and afraid; he was ashamed, and evidently not a little staggered at the words of Mackenzie, at the same time that he was convinced that the engineer meant every word that he said, and that Bracu, placed between a cleft stick, was almost certain to give way. Nevertheless, Spadu had courage, and when he spoke, which he did when Bracu was hesitating, there was a ring in his voice that amazed even the dour Mackenzie.
"Do as you like, Bracu," the Fambian said. "But the responsibility is yours. For myself, I care not what those men may do, these men who have brought trouble to Wooda. But if you surrender to them, the doom shall be upon you. I am done, and those whom I have won from your foes will become enemies once more. Shangas!"—he suddenly broke off and addressed the little men—"you, who were once the warriors of Fambia, and who now aim at so high an object as your own freedom, are you afraid of two men? I thought you more courageous!"
There was scorn, yet it was a scorn that cloaked a big bluff, and it clothed it so well it had some effect upon the Shangas. Such an effect, indeed, that Mackenzie realized that a danger point had been reached. He knew that stern measures were necessary. The Shangas were again fingering their hammers and looked as though they were about to hurl themselves upon the two adventurers.
Mackenzie took swift action. He thrust his revolver forward until it touched the temple of Bracu, and called out to Teddy to do the same with Spadu. Then he spoke to the Shangas.
"One step," he said, "and both Spadu and Bracu die," and at his words the Shangas fell back.
"All we want," he said, "is our Chief, and if he is not brought at once, Spadu and Bracu shall die. Please yourselves! Listen first. When our Chief comes we want Spadu. He is our prisoner and he knows that it was he who caused us to be taken captives, and we have an account to settle with him. For the rest, you can please yourselves. Fetch our Chief! Bracu, speak to them!"
Still the Shangas hesitated, and while they did so, the unexpected happened. No one had noticed the sudden disappearance of Amabius, no one noticed her return, until her voice rang out:
"Behold your Chief, friends!"
As one man that crowd turned and saw framed in the doorway, the figures of the Princess and of Appleton.
"Thank God you're alive, Chief," Mackenzie said reverently.
"And that you are, too," came the crisp reply from Appleton. "What's happened?"
"No time for telling, Chief," Mackenzie said. "Only thing that needs explaining is that we've got Spadu with a smashed leg, and Bracu with the wind up. They had arranged to begin the big smash to-night and personally I don't care a rap whether they do. I'm sick of the whole show!"
"I'm not!" was the quiet reply of Appleton. "Where's the bus?"
Mackenzie told him, and the Professor, alert and ready for action, said:
"Right, we'll get a move on and take Spadu and Bracu with us." He turned to the Princess and whispered something to her, and the girl's eyes lighted up. "She's coming too," Appleton said then, and walked across the room to where Spadu was lying. He was within a foot or so of him when the Fambian cried out, in the foolishly weak voice characteristic of all Martians, something that caused a sudden stir amongst the Shangas, and before Appleton and his companions realized it, the little men had rushed to Princess Amabius and carried her, struggling and screaming, out of the room, the door clanging behind them.
What happened then was like a scene from a melodrama. Bracu sprang towards the Shangas who remained in the room and cried to them to go and rescue the Princess. Appleton, bending low over Spadu, threatened him with bare fists, and Mackenzie and Teddy dashed for the door, only to be held up by the Shangas, who took no notice of Bracu.
"Give the word, Spadu, for the Princess to be fetched back," Appleton rapped at the Fambian, whose only reply was to leer upon him.
"I give you one more chance, Spadu," the Professor said. "Mac, lend me your revolver. I'll be wanting it."
The Scotsman came back from the Shangas barring the way to the door, and handed his weapon to Appleton.
"We get worse the further we go, Chief!" he said.
"We do that, Mac," Appleton agreed. "And this time it's serious." He turned to Spadu again with, "Your answer!"
"You may shoot if you like," the Fambian told him. "But my death will mean the death of Amabius. The Shangas know what I mean!"
It was a dilemma, the solution of which it was difficult to see. Appleton knew that actually he was helpless, for it was so few to cope with so many and bring matters to a successful and satisfactory ending. He knew that the time had come for him to compromise, but be hated to have to admit it. He decided to try to bluff the Fambian, but he failed miserably; and he knew it.
"Nothing you can say or threaten will make me give up the Princess," Spadu said calmly. "Once I was to have had her for my wife, now she is my prisoner, and a prisoner whose fate will be sealed if Hoomri does not give in. She is my last weapon against Hoomri!"
Appleton understood in a flash what the Fambian meant, he was going to give Hoomri one last chance to surrender, and he was going to use a lever that was likely to prove even more powerful than the mere threat of smashing the pumping machinery. Moreover, Appleton was convinced that not even the fear of death would now make Spadu give in; and so, much against his will as it was, Appleton compromised.
"Listen, Spadu," he said. "There is no love between us; there should have been little cause for enmity. You think you have the stronger hand. Perhaps, but mine is strong enough for my purpose. As long as the Princess is a prisoner, you shall be, but if you give me your word of honour that no harm shall come to her, none shall come to you, and you shall be free to communicate with Hoomri!"
"And Bracu?" the Fambian asked quickly, and Appleton was quick to understand the reason for that question. With communication possible with Hoomri, Spadu could continue his threats. With speech possible between him and Bracu, the Fambian could give the word that would result in his threats being carried out.
Appleton played up.
"Yes," he said. "You shall be able to communicate with Bracu!" and both Mackenzie and Teddy stared at him as if wondering what had come over him to cause this weakness. They did not know what was in Appleton's mind, but they were soon to be informed.
"Mac," the Professor called to the Scotsman. "Take your revolver again—here you are—and go upstairs with the barrel of it stuffed against Bracu's head in case anyone tries to stop you. Tell Horsman to bring the Marsobus down as low as he can, and let down the rope ladder for us here. Tell Ashby to keep one of the guns trained on the Shangas who'll be outside, and that he's to fire if there's any sign of trouble. We'll soon settle this little matter. And remember that Bracu's coming with us—Spadu wants to be able to communicate with him. Bracu will be the last to go up the ladder!"
It was with great difficulty that Mackenzie and Teddy refrained from laughing at the trick that Appleton was going to play upon Spadu, while actually keeping his word to him. But they knew that if they showed signs of merriment the keen-witted Fambian would suspect something not to his advantage, and instead of laughing, Mackenzie obeyed Appleton's order, drove Bracu out of the room, while Teddy, at a word from the Professor; stepped over to his side and stood with revolver ready against any move on the part of the Shangas.
In deathly silence they all waited until Mackenzie returned with Bracu walking before him.
"Everything's O.K., Chief," the engineer said, "and here's a revolver for you."
Appleton, took it as he turned to Spadu, and said:
"Tell the Shangas to open the door. We are going to our machine, and you with us. I'll carry you."
Spadu shrugged his shoulders.
"As you will—since I have your word for my safety," he said.
"Conditional on the safety of Amabius, remember," Appleton warned him. "And remember this: our machine has guns trained and ready to fire if there's any attack on us while we are getting aboard."
Spadu's answer was to tell the Shangas what had been said, and it was clear that they had a wholesome respect for the Marsobus and a few moments later the door was open and Appleton and Teddy were between them carrying the wounded Fambian out of the building into the night with Mackenzie behind them, revolver levelled at Bracu.
Outside were large numbers of the inhabitants of Galoria, drawn by the sight of the lighted Marsobus, which having dropped as low as was possible, was hovering over the building. The people of Galoria were plainly enough in a state of nerves, as well they might be, since they knew that every vital spot of the great pumping station entrusted to their care was in the hands of the Shangas, and could be destroyed in a few minutes.
They wondered, these men who had been tricked into defeat, what was happening; whether the Fambian who was being carried by the two strange White Skins was a prisoner to them or not, and for a moment or so it seemed as if there might be an ugly scene.
It was Bracu who stopped it, before Appleton had time to realize the meaning of the signs.
"Get back!" Bracu shouted. "The Shangas watch, and will act if necessary!"
The Galorians fell away, and Appleton reached the swinging rope ladder. The problem was how to get Spadu into the Marsobus, since with his smashed leg he could not climb. Horsman, who had set the controls of the bus so that it was unnecessary to touch them, was leaning out of the door from which the ladder was suspended, and Appleton called up to him:
"Throw down a coil of rope, Horsman. I am going to fix Spadu so that you can haul him up."
"Fine, Chief!" Horsman said, as though he were delighted at the prospect, and a moment or so later a rope end dropped beside Appleton. It took but a little while for the Professor and Craig to fashion a "cradle" into which Spadu was placed, and then, with Appleton climbing the ladder and steadying the burden, Horsman hauled up the Fambian. The ticklish part was how to get him into the Marsobus, but even that was accomplished with more ease than might have been expected, and then Appleton called to his comrades below:
"Send Bracu up!"
The Shanga chief, who had heard what Appleton said to Spadu, had not imagined that he was to be taken into the Marsobus as well, but he soon knew when Mackenzie thrust him forward and made him begin to ascend the ladder.
"Up you two come!" Appleton shouted down. "We've the beggars covered!" and Mackenzie and Teddy followed hard upon Bracu's heels.
The moment they were all inside the Marsobus, Appleton said quickly to Horsman as he slid the door to:
"Get moving out from over the city. We'll leave that crowd down there wondering what's a-doing."
"Where's Amabius?" Horsman asked crisply, for Mackenzie had told him of the presence of the Princess in Galoria.
"That's what I don't know," Appleton said. "Then I'm not going away until we get her," was Horsman's fierce exclamation.
"Look here, old chap," Appleton said quickly, "I know all that but we can't do anything about it at once. Amabius is safe—while Spadu's safe but if we try any monkey tricks she won't be. Leave it to rue. You don't think I'm such a brute as to leave any girl in danger, unless I'm pretty sure of getting her out? I've got a plan, and it's going to work!"
Despite this it took a good deal more argument to get Horsman to accept what the Professor said was inevitable, and it was only when Appleton had outlined his scheme that Horsman grew calmer. His mouth, however, was set in a thin straight line, and his strong chin was thrust far out as he sat at the controls and piloted the Marsobus away from the city until it was beyond the canal. Now and again he looked round at Spadu, and the Fambian, whose leg Appleton himself was attending to, could not mistake the meaning in the man's eyes, even although he had not been able to understand what had passed between Horsman and his chief.
APPLETON had the Marsobus landed about five miles from Galoria, and there it was that he proceeded to carry out the plan that he hoped would bring about a reconciliation between the Shangas and the Fambians. He got Hoomri on the phone, and in a few crisp sentences told him what had happened, leaving out, for the time being, the news of the presence of Amabius at Galoria.
"I fear, O mighty Hoomri," Appleton wound up, "that nothing can stop the destruction of the stations unless you agree to negotiate."
"That I will never do, friend," was the fierce reply. "Can I trust you? I must, because you must know, otherwise you will be caught in the great disaster."
Appleton started, wondering to what Hoomri was referring. And he told the Fambian that he could rely upon him to keep faith.
"Then get you back from Galoria as quickly as you can. Get below Anula. You can please yourself whether yon bring Spadu and Bracu with you, because whether they come or not the end will be the same for them—death! All Galoria will be dead within a few hours!"
"What's that?" demanded Appleton. "Make your meaning plain, please!"
He knew that it was safe for Hoomri to do this, because the wireless phone, being adjusted, could not be tapped, and he supposed that the reason why Hoomri had not specifically stated what was to be done was because he was still doubtful of the wisdom of entrusting his plans to anyone.
For a while Hoomri did not answer, and Appleton could hear the slight murmur of voices, as though the Fambian were conferring with others.
This certainly was the case, and presently Hoomri spoke again.
"Listen, friend," he said. "Since I have your word I will tell you: Fancu has agreed to cut the atmosphere pipe that leads to Galoria—and so Galoria, will die! In an hour it will be done, and—"
His voice ceased speaking abruptly, and although Appleton tried to get into touch again, he could not do so. The situation was distinctly unpleasant and serious. That it was his own wireless phone that was at fault Appleton knew, because he could not get into touch with anyone anywhere. He tried Fancu, he tried, as a test, Galoria, so few miles away, and nothing happened.
And the minutes were speeding and the hour's respite for Galoria was rapidly reaching an end. Appleton was simply aghast at the whole business, for he realized that the Martians had taken the greatest decision they had probably over taken, inasmuch as they were going to interfere with the common means of life. That they were justified Appleton admitted, because of the stake, which was nothing more or less than the very existence of life upon the planet.
But that it should be at all necessary was a horrifying thought to Appleton, especially as he knew that he had the means whereby to prevent it, and the means by which to bring about a reconciliation, or at least to induce the rivals to negotiate.
Very quickly he told his friends what he had learned, and ordered Horsman to drive the Marsobus back over the city.
"Got to get a phone there," he said. "Tied hand and foot! Can't break faith with Hoomri, who's trusted me, and so can't tell Spadu or anyone else what's happening."
"But we've got to get Amabius out somehow," Horsman said almost savagely.
"That's what we're going to do," Appleton told him. "If I can bag another phone I can talk with Hoomri—and play the trump card, which is Amabius! There you are—ease her up, Horsman!" as the Marsobus swung over the city. "Go low down, I want to sling out the ladder."
He darted out of the cabin and went to Bracu, who was in the stern cabin with Mackenzie—and not taking his detention altogether kindly.
"Bracu!" Appleton rapped, "I want you to come with me." He almost dragged the Shanga into the main cabin, where Teddy had already opened one of the doors and had the rope ladder dangling overside.
"Listen, Bracu!" Appleton ran. "I want a telephone instrument up here at once. Call out to someone below to bring one up the ladder. Quickly! They'll do it for you better than they will for me!"
To his surprise the Shanga refused point blank.
"You want it to help you to save Fambia!" Bracu said. "While you can't get into touch there is no chance of our scheme being interfered with. My men down there know what to do, and will do it at the appointed time!"
"You fool!" rapped Appleton. "I tell you, you must do what I say, or else—" he pulled himself up in time. "I give you just one minute to call. I could get it by arguing and threatening them, but I'd be at the mercy of anyone so minded to shoot at me. I prefer to be the one who's taking no risks just now, and it's you who will be taking the risk if you still refuse."
There was something in Appleton's voice that made Bracu realize that he was in deadly earnest, and with a shrug of his shoulders the little man leaned out of the door and called out in his shrill voice to the people who were below, looking up at the Marsobus hovering just over the housetops.
Several of the Shangas who had run out of the pumping station which the adventurers had left such a little while before, came near the trailing ladder, and at a word from Bracu one of them began to ascend.
"Tell him not to waste time by coming without the little phone, and tell him to make it two while he's about it," Appleton said.
Bracu obeyed. The Shanga dropped off the ladder, ran into the building, and came forth again bearing two of the little boxes that held the remarkable instruments that outclassed anything of the kind yet produced on Earth.
"Good biz, Chief," Craig said as he saw the Shanga mount with one of them and give it into the hands of Bracu.
"Good indeed, Teddy," Appleton agreed. "Here, you wait for the other one while I go and get this thing working."
"Right oh, Chief," Teddy said as Appleton moved from the door and went into the aft cabin, shutting himself in so that he could not be heard by Spadu or Bracu.
The Shanga who had brought up the phone descended the ladder, and Teddy stood by the side of Bracu, watching. Just as the Shanga reached the ground and was picking up the second box Bracu turned. Swiftly, suddenly, he made a lunge at Teddy, and the full force of the little man's strong right arm caught Craig in the stomach, sending him flying across the cabin.
And the next instant Bracu was going down the ladder. Teddy's shout of alarm—and pain—brought Ashby rushing out of the engine-room, and Teddy, pulling himself up, gulped out the information that made Ashby dart to the door, to see Bracu over half-way down the ladder.
"Dashed good mind to fire at him!" Ashby muttered, but he knew that Appleton would be angry if he did so. He did the next best thing. He laid hold of the ladder and began hauling it up. Teddy, despite the uneasy feeling in his stomach, gave a hand, but of a sudden the pair of them were staggering back as the ladder came up with a jerk, and they knew that Bracu had taken the risk of dropping off.
They picked themselves up, a sorry pair, looking very ashamed of themselves and very upset at having been so badly let in. And they were scarcely courteous to each other as they went over to the door and looked down and saw Bracu scrambling to his feet, seemingly uninjured, and heard the crowd below shouting themselves hoarse at what they evidently considered a very clever move on the part of the Shanga.
"Done, Teddy!" growled Ashby. "And the Chief will be wild!"
"You bet," was Teddy's reply. "But not nearly so wild as I am at having been thumped by that little villain. Let's go and tell Appleton right now."
It was, however, Appleton who came to them, for just as they reached the door the Professor swung it open and cried:
"Fellows, I've done it!"
"What?" Ashby asked.
"Fixed up a truce, at any rate, with Hoomri. Where's Bracu?"
Rather haltingly Ashby told him, and Appleton for a few seconds looked about as angry as any man well could do. But presently he said quite calmly:
"Well, it doesn't matter much, perhaps. We can talk to Bracu with some authority now, and he'll be more than content to listen."
He went back into the cabin, and after a while managed to get into touch with Bracu, and Teddy and Ashby listened while he spoke and succeeded in picking up the outline of what had happened.
It appeared that with the new telephone Appleton had got into conversation with Hoomri and informed him of the peril in which Amabius was at that time, and now the carrying out of the Fambian plan would involve her in the general catastrophe at Galoria. And that Hoomri, duly impressed, had indicated his willingness to negotiate—the outcome of which was that he would communicate with Fancu and command him not to go any further with the scheme for the cutting of the oxygen pipe. Moreover, Appleton had taken it upon himself to make it a condition of negotiation that, at any rate, the Shangas should be granted equality with the Fambians, and it was left at that, the question of lordship, whether of Spadu or of Hoomri, to be left to the final discussion.
When Appleton informed Bracu of all this the Shanga agreed to hold his own hand, and, moreover, was not by any means lacking in an expression of gratefulness to the Professor for having been willing and able to bring such terms to pass.
Nevertheless, Bracu had some conditions of his own which Appleton was able to accept, having been empowered by Hoomri to make the best terms that he could.
Bracu refused to surrender Amabius until the final agreement had been entered into. Also, he insisted upon having a personal conference with Hoomri to arrange the complete treaty, and Appleton, switching off, told Hoomri these things. The Fambian, after a consultation with his Council of the Wise, agreed, and a few moments later Appleton was offering Bracu the use of the Marsobus for the purpose of reaching Fambia.
"I accept the offer, old friend," Bracu said. "Understand this, however, that those whom I shall leave here well still hold the key to the position, and that before I come to you I shall tell my friends at Daloria—know you this that already Daloria is held by the Shangas?—to proceed with the work they have been sent to carry out, unless they hear from me to the contrary within a week from now. Tell Hoomri that! I know how swiftly your machine travels, and also I know that it is well to be prepared for emergencies and for treachery. Tell Hoomri this, too: that if any movement of troops, either towards the north or the south, take place the truce shall end, and that which we have threatened shall be done."
Appleton, during the time that elapsed between the finish of his conversation with Bracu and the arrival of the Shanga, informed Hoomri of what had happened, and the Fambian signified his willingness to abide by the terms.
Discreetly enough Appleton had said nothing to Spadu as to what had been arranged, and so it was that when, having been assured of the safety of Amabius—not without a deal of protest from Horsman—Appleton ordered the Marsobus to be turned towards Fambia, Spadu was in ignorance of the meaning of it.
For several days the Marsobus travelled at its marvellously swift speed.
More evident than ever were the signs of coming winter: the great expanses of fertile country spreading on either side of the canals and the vast forests in the waterless seas were showing evidences of the dearth of water; and, flying as they were at a low altitude, just as they had done on the journey to Galoria, Appleton was able to deduce the fact that with the approach of winter the animal life of Mars was less in evidence than during the warmer days. He mentioned this matter to Bracu, and the Shanga informed him that for the most part animals of Mars hibernated during the winter. By much questioning Appleton elicited the information that this winter sleep was not confined to animals of the kind that hibernate on earth, but also to others of totally different character, and that, moreover, the winter sleep was indulged in by the Martians themselves who lived in the temperate zones.
"Down there," Bracu said, "where the water is scarce during the winter, do the people sleep, for the supply of water that remains in the lakes would not be sufficient to support active life and all its many demands. Some there are who live awake during the winter to maintain the works in the cities, but they are people brought from the poles and the countries lying near the poles who have not had need to adapt themselves to the conditions that prevail elsewhere."
Passing over the canals, the adventurers saw that the ships were putting into dock for the winter, while, going towards the pole that the Marsobus was leaving, were heavily laden freight trains on the monorail, carrying, as Bracu explained, the last supplies for the inhabitants there against the winter sparseness.
Arriving over Anula they saw that there were an excessive number of air-cruisers moored to the tremendous towers that did away with aerodromes, and, in view of the fact that but a little while before Anula had been a crippled country as far as its aerial transport was concerned, through the dislocation of its radium station, it was pretty evident that the air-cruisers must have come from elsewhere, or that the Anulans had worked very hard, day and night, to repair the damage. Also, that there must be some very good reason for the presence of the air fleet, and that reason Appleton made a fairly shrewd guess at. He was to learn later that these cruisers, filled with armed men, all of whom carried oxygen helmets, had been gathered there for the purpose of making a dash, upon Galoria and exterminating the Shangas as they fled towards the equator the moment they realized that the oxygen pipe had been cut.
Appleton did not call a halt at Anula. He had called a halt nowhere, for he was anxious to get to Fambia, and so, after a journey that for speed eclipsed the outward trip from Anula, in an amazingly short time the Marsobus came within sight of the glare of light that spoke of the city of Fambia.
Night had fallen some time before, but the artificial light at Fambia was as clear as the day, and its upglare showed the astonished adventurers that which made them rub their eyes: a dozen, nay, scores of mighty machines very like their own were swooping down upon Fambia, and it scarcely needed the startled exclamation of Bracu to tell them what it meant.
"The Evil Ones from the Groves of Death!" the Shanga cried, and the others realized that he was speaking their own thoughts. Those machines were exactly the same kind as those in which the Green Men had come so many months before. But the Shanga's next words were sufficient to make Appleton clutch him in a grip that set the little man trembling. "There was no need for us to call a truce with Hoomri," Bracu had said. "The Green Men are our friends!"
"You little rat!" Appleton said in English, forgetting both his dignity and the foolishness of speaking so to the Shanga. He pulled himself up quickly, however, and spoke again, this time in Martianese. "Listen, Bracu, no treachery. This affair is arranged on my word and my honour, and I'd just drop you out of the machine if I thought you were going to play the traitor! It's a straight-out game, or else I'm going back to Galoria, and will have those people at Anula go with me, and storm the place so that I get Amabius. And then I'll leave Hoomri to do whatever he likes, and I promise you it will be something that you and your friends won't like! What is it to be?"
"I will keep my word, friend."
"That's good," was Appleton's reply. He would have said something else, but at that moment Teddy came bursting in with:
"Chief, there are some of those Green Men in the city, and I spotted Hoomri actually grovelling before them!"
Down went the Marsobus at Appleton's instructions—down into the blaze of light that showed the amazing scene below. But a few seconds it took to reach the ground, and as the wheels shot out and the Marsobus touched earth, the Professor and his comrades, faces pressed against the windows, saw the helmeted, gorgeously arrayed Fambians prostrating themselves before the uncouth, weird, and terrifying monsters whom the people of Mars believed to be the Evil Ones from the Groves of Death!
"WHAT are we going to do about it, Chief?" Horsman asked Appleton, as they all stared at the queer sight of Hoomri grovelling before a couple of the monster-men, standing beside one of the air machines. Other machines were landing by now, and Appleton realized that although there was a large number of the Green Men, they were by no means in sufficient force to conquer Fambia, were that their intention, unless the Fambians voluntarily gave way.
True, Hoomri no longer had the aid of the Shangas, but he had his allies from other parts of Wooda who would doubtless assist in repelling the invaders if he desired to do so.
Appleton's fear was that Bracu might after all refuse to proceed with the negotiations, on the strength of the coming of the strangers with whose previous messengers he had entered into a compact.
Bracu had, at Appleton's instigation, got into contact, with the officer commanding the Shanga planes that had been left there. These had risen at the first sight of the strange machines, taking them, no doubt, for Woodan enemies who were breaking the truce. As soon as they realized who the visitors were, the Shangas began to descend.
"Goodness knows what's going to happen next," was Appleton's given reply to Horsman's question. "It's a rummy go! Bracu isn't such an ass as Hoomri, and he hasn't got any illusions about the Green follows. Anyway, we can't butt in on Hoomri in the matter—we must wait and see what happens."
By this time the adventurers had issued from the Marsobus, and Appleton, telling his comrades to remain with the machine, walked over to where Hoomri was now standing, speaking with a Fambian who had come out of the strange machine.
"O, mighty Hoomri," the Professor said, not without a slight curve of the lips as he spoke the high-sounding title to the man who had subjected himself to the Green Men. "I have come with Bracu and Spadu, and there is no time to be lost. The truce has not long to go and—"
"What matters that now, friend?" Hoomri asked. "The Evil Ones have come and they demand that they shall be lords in Wooda. When those who came before went away they took with them Rombu the Wise, from whom they have learnt sufficient of the tongue of Wooda to be able to speak—it is a strange tale that Rombu tells! All the Evil Ones have come from the Groves of Death, all the men and the women, and henceforth they will dwell amongst us!"
Hoomri shuddered as he spoke, and Appleton felt something very like pity for him.
"Well, there is room in Wooda for them," the Professor told him. "But it surely does not mean that they should be the lords of Wooda! What say your friends, the kings of other nations?"
"I have said nothing to them yet," was the Fambian's reply, "I had thought the Evil Ones gone for ever. But what can they say? Who can withstand the gods?"
"Well, tell them, and tell them quickly," Appleton suggested. "And promise the Evil Ones nothing until you have."
Hoomri appeared to be impressed by this suggestion, and turning to the Fambian whom he had called Rombu, conferred with him for a few moments, at the end of which Rombu spoke to the hairy men in a mixture of apparently their own language and Martianese. Whatever it was that he had said the strangers did not like it. The two to whom Hoomri had prostrated himself were furious and jabbered away at Rombu, who, scared out of his life, said to Hoomri:
"O mighty Hoomri, the Evil Ones refuse anything but the possession of Fambia, and the Fambians as their slaves!"
"Look here, Hoomri," Appleton exclaimed, losing all patience. "Let me deal with this matter. These strangers are no more gods than you and I are. You cannot kill the gods, and yet many of them died when they came before."
For a few momenta Hoomri hesitated.
It was left to Rombu to settle the matter for them. He called Hoomri and Appleton aside.
"Listen, O mighty Hoomri," the Fambian said. "These are men who care for none but themselves. They killed their young children before they came hither, to enable the older ones to come. And I, Rombu, taken by them to what we call the Groves of Death, learned that they are no gods, but people who dwelt on a world that is at the end of the means of life, and who, looking for another, decided on Wooda. These people are like unto us. They sent those first messengers to see what manner of a world is Wooda. We received them with signs of submission that made them realize how easy it was to obtain dominion; and yet, if we but resist, they can do nothing. Wooda is stronger than these men whom we have called the Evil Ones from the Groves of Death. It is wisdom that the White Skin speaks!"
Hoomri was evidently impressed by what Rombu had to say, for he turned to Appleton and said: "Do what you will, friend, except enrage the Evil Ones!"
Appleton, surprised at the ease with which, after all, Hoomri had been prevailed upon, immediately told Rombu to inform the strangers that it was not possible to make such a surrender as they demanded without a proper conference, and that their air-cruisers were to land outside the city, and wait there till all arrangements had been made.
While Rombu was telling them this, Appleton spoke quickly to Hoomri, saying:
"Your one chance is to make peace with the Shangas. They will help you against the Evil Ones, and you cannot get help from outside in time to be of service if the strangers refuse to parley. Give the Shangas the free citizenship they demand. Moreover," Appleton went on, "your daughter is at the mercy of the Shangas, and I know that she will suffer, and you cannot do that which you have in your mind without her meeting the fate you had in store for all Galoria. If you refuse to treat with Bracu she will die. If you cut off the oxygen supply she will die. It is for you to decide."
"Even before you came, friend," Hoomri said, "the Council of the Wise had decided to meet the demand of the Shangas, provided Spadu is given up to us."
Bracu, who was standing beside Appleton, stepped forward and said:
"That is sufficient for us, if we have free citizenship. We desire not to be mere slaves to Fambia but a people with liberty and rights. As for Spadu, we took him for an ally but found him to he a tyrant, and we know that with him as the King of Fambia we should be worse off than before. Yet, because we joined with him we cannot altogether forsake him. We will give him unto your hands, O mighty Hoomri"—it was the first time since the revolt that Bracu had used the customary mode of address to Hoomri—"if his life is not to be forfeited."
Hoomri knew that he was in such a situation that he would have to agree to anything the Shangas demanded, and apparently he considered Bracu's terms such as required no further discussion, for he signified his acceptance of them.
"The White Skin is the witness of our agreement, O mighty Hoomri," Bracu said. "As for the Green Men, do what you will the Shangas will resist them! Meanwhile, news shall go forth to Daloria and Galoria; and the Princess Amabius shall be set free when I get to the White Skin's machine to send the messages."
He left the little group and went back to the Marsobus, and the hairy men who, with their very slight acquaintance of the Woodan language, had been trying to pick up something of the conversation, turned to Hoomri in anger and demanded to know his decision.
"Do what you will!" the Fambian told them. "But it will mean war. This I offer you, none shall molest you while you remain near Fambia if you dwell in peace. This was told me by Rombu the Wise: that the world whence you come can no longer support you. Then, if you wish for a dwelling place, you can find it in Wooda, as peaceful men—for men I do now believe you to be, and not gods. Peace or war—it is for you to decide!"
At that the two spokesmen for the strangers flew into a more terrible rage; they did not stop to answer Hoomri but sprang for their air-cruisers.
"Quick, Hoomri, into our machine!" rapped Appleton, and with agility the Fambian Chief and many of his followers who could do so scrambled into the Marsobus, to find that Bracu had informed the Shangas outside the city of the peace that had been arranged, and had told them to be in readiness for immediate action against the Green Men.
It took Appleton but a moment or two to explain to Bracu that the strangers were without doubt contemplating an attack, and the Shanga, who was at the telephone, very speedily gave the word that sent the flight of small planes rising into the air, ready for emergencies.
There were still up a number of the strangers' machines; and evidently they had been informed of developments, for they suddenly swooped to the attack, not of the city, which it was apparently their intention to spare against the time of their occupation of it, but of the Shanga planes and the dozen or so Woodan air-cruisers that were moored to the tall masts along the side of the now scantily filled canal.
Wellnigh a hundred strange machines were there, and as each carried something like a hundred souls—though not all of them were combatants they formed a formidable force against which the Shangas had but few planes compared with what they had had on that night when the first messengers had come from the distant world. Nevertheless the Shangas, together with the air-cruisers, showed no desire to shirk the issue; they knew, those fighting men, that Hoomri would, now that the internal trouble was over, get into touch with the force up at Anulu, and urge it to come down to Fambia to drive off the invader who would not take mere hospitality.
In the Marsobus, the adventurers and their Fambian friends looked out upon the battle that had commenced, and Appleton realized that every aid would be needed.
"What do you say, fellows?" he asked his comrades. "Shall we join in the scrap?"
"One more scrap won't hur-rt us, Chief," Mackenzie said. "I'm willin', mon, if t'others are."
"Go ahead for me, Chief," Horsman said, and Ashby and Craig nodded their own approval.
The result was that the Marsobus, which had risen swiftly until it was above the raging battle, began to drop lower and lower, Ashby and Horsman sitting behind their guns, and Appleton piloting the machine.
And there, in broad daylight, was re-enacted the scene that had been played on that night when the Green Men had first come, but this time the odds were against the Woodans. Small, flitting planes were caught by the glowing fire-balls of the strangers and were dissipated; but the radium guns of the Shangas and the men in the air-cruisers took heavy toll of the giant machines, many of which crashed to earth, while the Marsobus, with her all too few remaining explosive shells, rendered a good account of herself during that day of terror. Some grim moments there were, moments when it seemed that the Marsobus must be smashed, moments when, had the tactics of the foe—who realized that probably their most dangerous antagonist was this machine so like their own—succeeded, the Marsobus must have been caught and unable to escape by the same kind of stratagem that had been adopted on the previous occasion. Everyone aboard the Marsobus realized that it would be impossible for the machine to dive into the canal, owing to the shallowness of the water. Only the remarkable turn of speed that her perfect engines gave her, and the expert handling of Appleton, saved her from destruction by collision. Of the enemy shells, experience had taught that there was little danger, so that the Marsobus had a distinct advantage in that respect.
It was an advantage that in itself often led Appleton to take risks that he would not otherwise have taken, but out of them all he brought his craft safely, and by taking them inflicted severe damage upon the enemy, who, when at last the night came, drew off for a while.
To guard against a sudden stealthy attack, the Fambians turned on their great lighting installation, and the night was like the day.
Down on the ground were to be seen the shattered remnants of planes and air-cruisers; in the canal wreckage floated. Far off from the city, beyond the belt of vegetation, the enemy cruisers lay half through the night—and, at Appleton's suggestion, Hoomri commanded his forces not to attack them. That was a wise policy.
"The less we attack," Appleton said, "the fewer we shall lose—and we shall want all we have when they attack again, if they do. Meanwhile, time is on our side, for the force at Anulu should be here by the morning after to-morrow."
Nevertheless, the Shangas' planes kept the air, hovering about the city, their occupants watching the far off foes, ready against the time that came before the dawn, when the stranger-machines climbed again and swung out towards Fambia.
So was the grim battle renewed, and yet again were the enemy forced to leave the scene.
There had, however, been something a-doing while they had been resting before, for, as it turned out, they had landed a large force of their warriors, who had made a forced march through the thick vegetation, and by noon, when the enemy once more took to the air, the land-party had reached the canal. They embarked in light collapsible boats that they had carried on their machines and that were each driven by a small motor, crossed to the city side, landed, and made a deliberate attack on the city itself.
Fambian women and children fled in terror before the green, hairy monsters, and Fambian men, unused as they had been to fighting their own battles, nevertheless put up a bold defence from the shelter of their walls. The Black Skins from Limburia here proved their usefulness and, instead of staying behind the walls, issued forth and flung themselves upon the foes. There ensued a terrific battle on the ground at the same time that one was raging in the air.
Not one of those Green Men who had landed escaped. Some there were, indeed, who were forced back to the canal side and had to jump into the water, but even they never reached the farther side. And when the Green Men in the air-cruisers above saw the fate of their comrades, they apparently lost heart and once again retired. As before, the Woodans allowed them to go, they themselves reserving their forces and waiting for the arrival of reinforcements before making a grand attack upon the invaders.
That last unsuccessful assault seemed to have dispirited the enemy considerably, for they did not return again during that day. Indeed, it was not until the following morning that their machines once again ascended. The force was now reduced to something like fifty cruisers in sufficiently good order to take part in the battle, while the Woodan squadrons were also badly depleted.
Hoomri, however, still in the Marsobus, which had led several attacks on the foe, had received a message an hour or so before the resumption of the battle that the force from Anula would arrive by dawn, and as the Fambian chief had informed his squadrons of this they went into the fight with great hope.
It was a hope that was abundantly justified, because although many more of the Shanga planes were destroyed, they were still in sufficient numbers to keep up the fight with remarkable vigour.
And then they saw in the grey morning light a dense mass like a cloud in the distance, a cloud that came nearer and nearer and resolved itself into a squadron of air-cruisers travelling at a terrific speed.
Half a hundred or more of them there were, and they completed the discomfiture of the enemy, simply overwhelming them, destroying a score of their cruisers and sending the others scurrying away.
The defenders immediately set off in pursuit, the Marsobus leading the way.
"Where they think they're going and what they're intending to do I can't imagine," Appleton said to Craig after the pursuit had lasted for several hours and Fambia was far behind. Several of the enemy cruisers, lame ducks these, unable to keep up with the rest, had been accounted for, and it was a foregone conclusion that the remainder would meet with a similar fate. Quite apart from which there was the fact that since the enemy had refused conciliation they could expect no mercy if they landed, and Wooda was a prohibited world for them.
As a matter of fact, the Green Men had no illusions as to what they ought to do. The truth was that when they had swung away from Fambia they had hoped to be allowed to retire as they had done previously, before the arrival of Woodan reinforcements; and they had intended to overhaul their cruisers with a view to taking their departure and going back to the world whence they had come in the hope of finding another and a better one. Some of their vessels were by now totally unfit for the journey through space, and their hope was to be able to take on the airworthy ones the crews of the others. Failing that they would have to desert their less fortunate fellows—a course which finally they knew they would have to adopt, since their foes hung on to them relentlessly.
The result was that about a dozen of the enemy cruisers began to rise higher than the others, which sped on at the best pace they could. For a little while the pursuers watched the ascending cruisers, not sure whether it was a ruse to manoeuvre for position to renew the hopeless battle or whether the enemy really were intending to leave Wooda.
A few minutes only remained of daylight, and vivid streams of light flashed out from the Woodan aircraft, some groping for the enemy, who were making for the vast jungle, willing to take the risks of its unknown perils rather than the certain fate that they would meet at the hands of their antagonists. Other searchlights, including that of the Marsobus, were piercing the depths of space into which the small section or craft had gone. Within a very short time these cruisers had disappeared from the range of the powerful searchlights, although they left, behind them a grim token of their visit in the shape of a suddenly released shower of fire-balls, which came streaming out of the sky, growing in size, as was a characteristic of them as they travelled.
It was a strangely beautiful sight, and one that held no small amount of terror. For some of the luckless Shanga planes, caught by the shower that seemed like a meteor tail, were dissipated in that final "kick" of the fleeing enemy. While, more terrible than all, some of the fire-balls, grown large beyond belief, landed in the jungle—and instantly century old trees caught light, and, within a short time, for miles the land was covered with a blazing forest fire.
"My word!" gasped Teddy. "It's a horrible mess. It's as though we were looking down on a burning sea!"
What Appleton would have said to that Craig never knew, for at that moment Mackenzie, who had been for hours in the engine-room, shouted out for the Professor, who went in to him.
"Chief!" the engineer said crisply, "the propeller's gone—both of 'em, in fact!"
"Good heavens!" exclaimed Appleton, who had had the Marsobus running as an aeroplane and now realized that it would be necessary to adopt the rocket method of motion. "Cut down the speed. Our best plan is to make a landing as quickly as we can, and send some of the Shangas down to find the propellers. We can't afford to lose 'em, even although we've got spares."
Mackenzie reduced speed and made the corrections that turned the Marsobus into what was to all intents and purposes a self-propelling rocket instead of an aeroplane, and Appleton meanwhile told Hoomri what had happened and asked him which was the best place to land in.
"Janoria lies beyond the jungle, friend," Hoomri informed him. "It will be best to land there, if your machine will travel. We can get Talcu the King, to allow us to use his vision-giver."
"It will travel," Appleton said, with a smile. "My only object is to be able to find the propellers, and while they are being searched for, if you will get your people to do that, we can fix up new ones. Come with me. We shall need you to guide us."
He went with Hoomri into the fore-cabin, where Horsman, released from his gun, had been piloting the Marsobus during the pursuit of the enemy. And, having wirelessed to the Shangas and the men in the one or two cruisers which had accompanied them, Hoomri kept Horsman informed of the route to take, the great blaze of the jungle fire serving them well and revealing, after a while, an island city which the Fambian said was named Janoria.
They had passed over the jungle by now, and after a while the Marsobus, at considerably reduced speed, so that she should not injure herself when she landed, was made to descend, dropping vertically by virtue of her helicopter apparatus and with her landing wheels thrust out—to touch ground presently as lightly as a bird.
She was on the bank of a canal, across which lay the city of Janoria, similar, as far as could be seen, to Fambia itself. And the city bank was lined with people attracted, naturally, by the fire that was blazing so near their very doors, and also not a little curious to learn what had happened to the invaders of Wooda, of whose coming they had been apprised, and the battle with whom they had been told about.
Not all the Shangas had landed with the Marsobus, for Hoomri's instructions had been that they should keep on in pursuit of the fleeing enemy, who had after all not chosen the burning jungle for a shelter.
Hoomri had wirelessed to Talcu asking for a boat to be sent across the canal to fetch him and his friends off. A few moments after the Marsobus had landed the boat reached the shore, and Appleton and Craig, accompanied by Hoomri and Bracu—the latter being invited by Hoomri himself as, apparently, a token of good feeling—went across the canal into Janoria, where they were received in friendliness by Talcu, who promised all assistance in his power, and who, moreover, insisted on all Hoomri's company attending a banquet that had been in progress.
"Afterwards we can do that which the White Skins desire," Talcu said, not a little interested in the strangers, of whom he had already heard a great deal.
Needless to say, the adventurers were not sorry to fall in with Talcu's wishes. And, still more needless to say, they were not at all loath to get into the silken beds placed at their disposal and to wait until the morning to make the search for the lost propellers.
WHEN the day did come Talcu placed the vision-finder at the disposal of Appleton, who very soon "placed" the missing propellers—only one of which, however, seemed to be in a condition to make it worth while fetching. It lay fifty miles away, out in the desert beyond the still burning jungle, and Hoomri sent one of his air-cruisers to bring it in.
The work of fixing the new shaft and propellers would take several days, and Appleton suggested to Hoomri that he would probably like to get back to Fambia, which Hoomri agreed was the case, especially as the Shangas who had followed the remnants of the enemy force came back during the morning and reported that they had brought them to battle again and utterly defeated them, actually driving the survivors who escaped from the smashed cruisers into the forest on the other side of Janoria.
"Then they will indeed trouble Wooda no more!" Hoomri told Appleton on learning this. "For the Ape-Men of Janoria will account for them."
"The Ape-Men—who are they?" the Professor asked immediately.
"The apes who live in the great forest here—the only place in Wooda where they are found," was the reply. "They are apes who build themselves houses, and who verily rule in the forest by reason of their vast numbers."
"What sort of houses, Hoomri?" Appleton asked; and the Fambian assured him that these apes fashioned themselves huts out of trees and branches, and lived in colonies.
"I expect he means some kind of natives, Chief." Craig suggested; but on being questioned further Hoomri was emphatic that the animals were animals, and not men who had not kept pace with the development of life.
"Well, I reckon we ought to have a sight of 'em, Chief," Horsman said, "and a few photographs would be worth while. Besides, Chief, when you come to think about it, we've not been on a game hunt since we got here, or explored any of the jungles. We know a tidy bit about the canals and the people—confound 'em!—and their cities and what not, but we jolly well ought to learn something about the fauna; and it seems to me that these ape fellows 'ud be the Johnnies to start with."
"We'll see when we've got the bus fixed up," Appleton said. Actually, he had been thinking that, with the trouble between Hoomri and the Shangas settled, it would be just as well if he and his own party gave Fambia a wide berth for a time, and the friendliness of Talcu had disposed him to tarry at Janoria.
"You will return to Fambia, friend?" Hoomri asked, when Appleton told him of his decision. "My daughter will wish to thank you for what you and your friends have done. I have had news this morning that she has left Galoria and is on her way home—Bracu having given instructions for her to be set free. Nothing now remains for us except to confirm the peace between the Fambians and the Shangas."
Appleton assured him that he would return to Fambia, and expressed his pleasure at the amicable settlement that had been arrived at; while Bracu, with obvious emotion, thanked the Professor for the part that he had played in the matter.
Then the Woodans entered their cruiser, and within a short time the squadron of planes and cruisers had disappeared in the direction of Fambia.
"Eh, mon," Mackenzie said to Horsman, "now that that bunch o' trooble's gone we can enjoy oursel's!"
"By working jolly hard to get the bus fixed up," Appleton said with a grin. "Afterwards we'll think about pleasure!"
And work hard they did, every one of them, until the propellers and shafts were fixed, and the engines had been overhauled. It was only when he was satisfied that everything was all right that Appleton suggested that they might very well indulge in what he called "a little scientific work."
"I don't deny, fellows," he said one night after he had put away the microtelescope which he had forced Trancu to disgorge, "that I'm keen on seeing those Ape-Men Hoomri spoke about. It seems we've got to stay on the planet a while longer yet, since not even with this microtelescope can I 'place' the Earth. And goodness knows I've kept late nights enough in trying to do so!"
Which was, indeed, a fact; for every night since he had been at Janoria Appleton had studied the vast depths of space, seeking to identify the Earth and failing to do so. He had pored over his charts and his globe; he had called in the assistance of the wise Men of Janoria and their elaborate and wonderful charts of the heavens. They themselves were as much at a loss as he was, and had indeed been seeking for some explanation of the sudden blotting out of the far-away planet.
"The trouble is, fellows," Appleton said on this particular night, "I know where the old Earth should be and could work out a line there—but what's the use of doing that? I don't feel inclined to take a leap into space without being able to see where I'm going to land. So, until something happens—"
"If it ever does, Chief," Horsman suggested.
"We've got to stay here," Appleton went on, without noticing the interruption. "As Mac said once before: any old world is as good as another when you come to think of it, and now we've settled the little troubles we've had, we might as well make the best of it all. To-morrow I'm going to ask Talcu to give us some guides and we'll explore the forest yonder."
When, however, be broached the matter to Talcu, the latter did not seem at all eager, and made all manner of excuses why the adventurers should not go: he spoke of the innumerable dangers and difficulties, and it was only when Appleton assured him that they were quite prepared to take the risk of those that Talcu, with a shrug of his broad shoulders, signified his willingness to do as they desired.
The result was that a day or so later the adventurers set out from Janoria with a band of about a hundred armed men to march across the country to the jungle, some fifty miles away. They passed along the roads through the fertile country that stretched out from the canal side.
Hancu, the guide, commenced to raise objections, but Appleton assured him that his men would be punished for their disobedience to Talcu, who had ordered them to accompany the adventurers for their protection. He even went so far as to phone through to Talcu and inform him, and the message that the King sent back was sufficiently strong and threatening to make the Janorians decide that after all there was little to choose between going into the jungle and going back to Janoria.
"We ought to be able to tackle any brute beasts," was Appleton's reassuring verdict when they finally expressed their intentions to go with him; but the very day on which they entered the jungle was to prove to him that after all the Janorians had had no little common sense when they showed reluctance.
They entered the jungle, and the Janorians hacked a way through its pathless maze. It was a jungle that was a very paradise of beauty, despite the fact that the year was at the edge of winter. Strange birds and beautiful plants; weird animals unlike any that figured in the natural history books of the Earth—all these things were seen and noted; and, in some cases, specimens were secured, so many, indeed, that it became necessary to make depots of them against the time when the return journey was being made. But, despite the fact that some of the monsters of the almost impenetrable jungle had been troublesome and occasioned no little danger, nothing was seen of the Ape-Men until about a week after entering the forest.
And Appleton had begun to doubt their very existence, only to be rudely awakened and to realize the fact that the Janorians had a justifiable fear and not a childish one.
Then early one morning the party, after having travelled some distance from the place of the night's camp, came to a part, of the jungle where there were definite paths. The great trees were there, but the undergrowth, so dense elsewhere, had been cut away and, naturally enough, Appleton wanted to know the meaning of that.
Hancu's face was a study when the question was asked him, and the very fact that he had volunteered no information whereas generally he had been a loquacious guide, made Appleton believe that there was a story he ought to know. Even when Appleton asked the plain question of what the tracks signified, Hancu tried to evade it; and at last Appleton made a shot at it for himself:
"Tell me, Hancu," he said, "are these tracks made by the Ape-Men?"
"The White Skin has spoken the truth," was the reply.
"And you did not want me to know it?" Appleton asked.
"Because I knew that you would wish to explore, friend," Hancu told him; and the Professor nodded and said emphatically:
"You are right, Hancu. And we shall explore. Now listen: I do not wish to make your men run into needless danger—and if you promise to keep within calling distance we will go forward alone and—"
"You are in our keeping, friend," Hancu said.
The result was that the whole party moved up along one of the tracks, every man of them as quiet as he could be. Hancu himself led the way, going well in advance and almost creeping. For something like half a mile the track went—and presently Hancu held up a hand; instantly the whole company came to a halt, and Appleton saw that the Janorians fingered their radium guns. Back down the path Hancu came and whispered that the Ape-Men's colony was within a very short distance.
"You still wish to go on, friend?" he asked, and Appleton suddenly scarcely knew whether be did or not; there was something uncanny about the evident dread of the Janorians. Nevertheless, his scientific enthusiasm overcame his momentary disinclination, and he said he would go on.
Then, with set face, Hancu led the little band of White Skins along the path until they came to a sight that made Appleton gasp: for there were half a hundred twig-and-branch huts—for all the world like a bushmen's village in the heart of an African jungle. There was, however, no sign of life at that moment and he was able to examine it with some degree of care; able, too, to take two or three photographs of it, though the gloom rendered long exposures necessary, and even then he was dubious about the results.
"Should like to risk a flashlight!" was his thought, but he knew that that was impossible. As luck would have it, the stand of his camera slipped, one of the steel legs telescoping, and before he could save it the camera had gone to the ground with a sharp crack.
Hancu jumped as though he had been shot, and before Appleton realized the dreadful significance of the sound that was, after all, by no means loud, the jungle was alive with screaming voices; and there issued from the primitive huts a crowd of the Ape-Men that the adventurers had run so much risk to see.
There issued from the primitive huts a crowd of Ape-Men.
EVEN in the wild moment when the Ape-Men appeared, Appleton had sufficient presence of mind to snatch up his fallen camera with one hand as with the other he drew his revolver.
It was Teddy Craig, however, who got in first shot at the Ape-Men as they rushed, bellowing, out of their very human-like habitations. One of the apes tumbled to the ground, and several stumbled over him; several more went to earth as now Mackenzie and the rest fired into their midst, while Hancu, with a loud cry, called up the Janorians at the same time that he motioned the adventurers back along the track. That discretion was the better part of valour in the present circumstances Appleton realized, and he needed no further suggestion from Hancu.
"Fall back, fellows," he said. "Fire as you do so!"
Hancu was now using his radium gun, and a moment or so later Appleton and his friends were mingled with the Janorians, who also were firing at the apes now advancing down the path, swinging great clubs and torn-off boughs of trees. They looked strangely human, very business-like and very-angry; and they were making a horrible guttural noise as they moved forward.
There must have been two or three hundred of them, a formidable force, even although their antagonists were scientifically armed. Every man there knew that if once the apes succeeded in getting to close quarters there would be little hope for any who were caught by them. Therefore, the one endeavour was to keep them at a distance; and the guns poured in their deadly fire, the radium guns especially causing great and wholesale destruction.
"We must keep in this path, Hancu!" Appleton shouted out presently, as the thought came to him that there was danger in getting in amongst the tangled undergrowth that they had left in order to follow the track that had led to the ape-village. "Let's make a stand!"
The Janorians, despite their dread of the apes, perhaps indeed it was because of it, offered no objection to this course; and the result was that the whole band came to a halt, lined up solidly and prepared to try to drive off the advancing apes. The ranks of the animals had been very much depleted, it is true, but there were still enough of them to make the situation a dangerous one, and it took, indeed, something like another half an hour for the men to finish with their foes. A grim half hour it was, too. Several times the apes, by virtue of their great numbers, pressed forward and got to within a few feet of the men, wielding their huge clubs so that the rush of air was felt by the foremost of the defenders. Once a club came sailing through the air, having slipped, no doubt, from the grip that had held it, for it was noteworthy that the apes did not adopt this method of fighting. The weapon sped past Craig's ear and caught a Janorian full in the face; that man died on the instant, and he was the first and only casualty that the defenders suffered throughout that grim battle, which came to an end at last with piles of apes lying on the track, and scores of them running back the way they had come.
"Let's get out of this, mon," Mackenzie gasped. "I've had eno' of it—give me the open air instead o' this jungle!"
"You're right, Mac," Appleton agreed. "I've seen what I came to see—and more, indeed, and I think we'd better go back to Janoria. Hancu,"—he turned to the Martian—"is there any likelihood of other apes coming? I mean will other colonies be roused?"
"Not yet," was the reply, "for it is said that the Ape-Man's colonies are far between."
"Anyway, I think we might, be getting back to Janoria," Appleton told him. "We will go the way we came in order to pick up the specimens that we collected and left behind us. I'm greatly obliged to you and your men for what you have done. I know now why they were reluctant to come with us—and I thank them."
When Hancu turned and told his men of the adventurer's decision they did not hesitate to show their pleasure; and after, at Appleton's request, skinning one of the apes for him, they started off along the track.
In due course they reached their own trail, and, preferring not to camp there so near the ape colony, moved back to the scene of the previous camp, where they remained during the night. The following morning the return journey was begun in earnest, and the party made good progress, having, of course, no necessity to cut their way through as they had to do originally. The specimens at the various depots were picked up and cheerfully carried by the Janorians, who were rather inclined to be boastful of their fight with the apes—now that it was over!
There were continually new things to be seen as the explorers passed through the jungle, even although they had covered the ground before, and the paradise of beauty yielded Appleton a hundred and one items for his collection and his notebook; so that by the time the party emerged from the forest he was very well pleased.
"We've learned more during that trip, fellows," he said, "than we have all the rest of the time."
"P'raps you have, mon," was Mackenzie's growl. "I don't seem to have learned anything—except that Martian jungles are as bad as any on earth!"
"I mean of the flora and fauna of Mars," Appleton told him with a smile. "Those specimens of both that we've collected have a most remarkable story to tell, especially the animal ones. Take the Ape-Men, for instance. Why do they build houses? The apes on Earth don't."
"Goodness knows," Mackenzie said.
"Well, I reckon it is because, being essentially animals that live in hotter climates, they have, through the ages, adapted themselves to conditions of cold by providing themselves with shelter both for the night and for the winter season, for, as we've been told, Mars has its winter all over—I mean, a really cold winter. That's one of the reasons, I don't doubt, why the Martians have the winter sleep—that and the fact of the scarcity of water. Winter in Mars does not simply mean coldness with frozen lakes and so forth; it means, except at the poles, lack of both water and heat—the farther you are away from the poles the more severe the winter—therefore, as far as the question of water is concerned. For that reason I'm rather keen on getting down to Dracola again to see what conditions are like there during the cold season. Hancu tells me that Janoria is only a matter of five hundred miles away, which isn't a long journey by the monorail that runs from Jagoria. If Talcu will arrange it when we get back we'll go there. The people who, as Lalcu told us, are the winter workers, can take us there and bring us back for the bus. But about other things. I rather fancy that I've gathered enough specimens here to be able to piece together a good part of the story of the evolution of life—that is, if I've interpreted what I've seen aright. Talcu's Wise Men will be able to tell me that, I dare say. It is our theory that life conditions—that is, environment—gives rise to adaptations. Here it is to be seen in actual operation. As you know, there are no true fish on Mars; but there are many amphibians—that big brute who wrapped himself about our propeller when we dived into the canal away from the Green Men was one of them. Why no fish, then? Because there is not the water necessary to maintain true fish life. Therefore we have the amphibians who dwell in the canals during the summer and take to the land during the winter. Then there are the apes—which I believe are actually becoming men—Hancu tells me that they are said to hold councils, and colonies war against colonies, and do several other things that link them very closely with human life."
"All verra interesting, Chief," Mackenzie said; "but it's no' likely to be of much use to us or to anyone else. These Martian Johnnies know it all—and we don't look like gettin' back to Old Earth for you to tell what you've learned, which I guess is much more than you've told us."
"A good deal more," Appleton agreed with a grin. "But about getting back. Listen, fellows! We're certainly here for the whole winter, because as you know the oppositions of Mars and the Earth take place only at certain intervals and we've got to wait for the next. I've got a theory moreover, regarding the disappearance of the Earth from the field of the telescope. I have not mentioned it before, because I'm leaving it until we get back into Janoria before I say anything more except that if I am right it won't matter whether we can see the Earth or not—I can set the Marsobus on its course, working out the length of time it will take us to reach the Earth, and be quite sure that we shall make it. That's what I had to do, of course, before we started from the Earth; but then I could see Mars, knew exactly where it was, and based my calculations on the mathematics of relativity, which is too big a subject for me to explain to you! Anyway, let's leave the matter for the time being. I'm dead tired!"
THE party were camped just outside the jungle, having had a very strenuous day on the last stage of the journey through, and already the Janorians were asleep. It had been noticeable that during the last day or so these Martians had been showing signs of much greater fatigue than before, and certainly more than the white men—a matter that Appleton put down to the fact that nature was asserting itself: the time of the winter sleep was drawing nearer and nearer.
It was also with evident effort that the fifty miles across the cultivated land was made to Janoria, on arrival at which place Appleton was surprised to find that the Janorians there were by no means as enervated as those who had travelled with him.
It was Talcu who indicated to him the reason for this, which was that the guard to the party had been deprived, necessarily, of the supply of food that they would have had if they had remained in the city.
"For weeks before the winter sleep, friend," Talcu said, "we prepare ourselves for its long sojourn. We eat well and drink well; we put on flesh"—and Appleton did not need to be told that, because Talcu himself, who had been little larger than Mackenzie, the biggest of the adventurers, was now much bigger in every way—"our scientists have discovered the means to administer food that is not only satisfying without discomfort, but also lasting in its provision of sustenance for several mouths. Another two weeks and Wooda will begin to go to sleep."
"Begin?" Appleton queried. "Then all do not go to sleep at once?"
"Nay, friend." said Talcu with a smile. "Sleep starts near the equator, where the water begins to fail first. Then north and south the great sleep marches until at the poles the people sleep not."
"Then," said Appleton quietly, "there is time for me to go down to Dracola and see the heart of Wooda, into which, as I don't doubt you have heard, we were once almost hurled, and should have been but for the prowess of Bracu the Shanga."
"I had heard," was the Janorian's reply. "A train reaches here to-morrow from Galatia, bearing the winter workers for Dracola."
It was therefore arranged that the adventurers should proceed in the monotrain, and the rest of the day was spent in sorting out the specimens collected during the trip into the jungle and getting ready for the next journey. In addition, Appleton spent several hours of the night in his investigations of the heavens; and Craig, who was keen in the matter—and, in fact, took more interest in it than any of the others—was with him. For a long time Appleton was busy with the microtelescope and his charts and globe, making drawings and diagrams, working out elaborate calculations, none of which Teddy, looking over him, could make the least meaning of.
"Well, Chief?" the youngster asked at last, when Appleton, his face slightly flushed, straightened up. "Any luck?"
"Luck?" Appleton echoed. "I should say yes. I've found out the reason for the phenomenon that's puzzled me. Also, in doing that, I've made one of the greatest astronomical discoveries for many years. There's a new planet been formed."
"What's that got to do with the matter?" Teddy asked.
"Everything," was the reply. "I don't know the source of the planet, but it's a dead-planet, that is, it is solid, and not gaseous. Also, it is of some substance that neither has light, of its own nor reflects light from the sun. But there's something between Mars and the Earth that was not there. My own instruments did not give any indication of it for the good reason that it is a black mass merging into the depths of space. But this microtelescope of Fancu's picks it out—and there it is, a new planet. It must be new, for otherwise it could not have suddenly planted itself where it is. Planets pursue their journeys on more or less constant orbits, and the changes that do take place are infinitesimal, relatively speaking that is, so that it is impossible that this planet can have been one that has suddenly changed its orbit and dropped into place."
"How do you account for it then, Chief?" Craig asked, now more than ever interested.
"Only by the fact that it must have been an offshoot from some other body," was the reply. "It must have been hurled off by some catastrophic explosion on a planet having a less gravitational power than the Earth, which has attracted the new body and the result is that the latter is travelling on exactly parallel with the Earth and Mars, holding a position directly between them."
"But how, Chief," Teddy asked further, "do you know that it is a body, and not merely space into which you are looking through the microtelescope?"
"In the first, place, Teddy," Appleton told him. "I should see the earth if there was no intervening body—for as I have said, planets don't go dodging about, and the earth must retain her appointed place in the solar system. Secondly, the microtelescope receives a definite blur.
"Beautiful as my own instruments are, they could not get that. Now I've found it, however, and I have calculated its distance from Mars. It's ten million miles, a good stopping place, eh, for the way home?" He grinned as he spoke, and Teddy put it down to his facetiousness. "I'm wondering about the character of it, because it has interrupted our wireless. It is therefore a disturbing element, the nature of which I don't understand."
"Anyway, it doesn't matter, Chief," Craig said smilingly, "the main thing is that you have solved the important problem of locality, as it were, and when you're ready, we can make a bee-line for Earth."
"Then you're getting tired of it all, Teddy?" Appleton asked him. "And want to get home."
"No," was the youngster's reply, "but you know what it is: I suppose that the very fact of being able to do so makes me think about it, whereas while you didn't know I didn't seem to trouble or think about it. But I wouldn't go home now, if I could, before I'd seen this Martian winter sleep! It's a queer thought, Chief, isn't it, that almost a whole world should go to sleep for a part of the year?"
"Only queer because it is unfamiliar," Appleton told him. "After all, half the Earth, for instance, goes to sleep every night in the year, so what's the difference, except one of degree? The bear goes into his den, too, for months at a time."
As he spoke, Appleton was collecting the notes that he had made, and was replacing his instruments in their cases; and when he had done all this, he said:
"However, let's go to bed now!"
It was just before noon the next day, when the three-tiered monorail sped swiftly into Janoria, discharging certain cargo. Appleton and his three companions boarded it, and found themselves allotted two rooms that had previously been occupied by some of the workers from Galoria on their way to Dracola, to take up their winter's work. The man in charge, whom Appleton recognized as a Shanga named Namcu, who had been at Galoria, and had joined Bracu when the latter arrived with his force, seemed to be quite pleased to see the adventurers again, no doubt, because he had learned how they had assisted to bring off the great scheme that the Shangas had been fighting for.
"We're assured of one friend, anyway, fellows," Appleton told his company, as the train started off along the rail that stretched for hundreds of miles. At the amazing speed at which the monorail travelled, the five hundred miles between Janoria and Dracola would soon be covered—too soon, for Appleton was naturally interested in every now part of Mars that he passed through. The rail skirted great jungles, crossed vast empty seas, and ran parallel here and there with canals.
Once or twice, in order to examine some new thing, or to photograph a particularly interesting view, Appleton got Namcu to stop the train; and it was on one of these occasions while the adventurers were out of the train, then at rest beside a canal, that they were hailed from the train.
"What's the matter, Namcu?" Appleton asked the Shanga, who was with them; but there was little need for him to reply, because at that moment the adventurers saw the reason for the warning cry.
Through the struts supporting the rail, they could see several forms which Appleton recognized as those of amphibians.
"Quick, friend!" cried Namcu, starting to run for the train, followed by Appleton and his comrades. They had something like a hundred and fifty yards to go, and long before they had covered the distance, several of the amphibians were in the open, having escaped the fire that the people on the train had opened on them.
Still more were coming up, but they were attacked from both sides of the train, and the running men outside saw that good work was being done—yet not so good that every one of the brutes was accounted for. Teddy Craig, pumping along beside Appleton, had a vision of a huge form, elephant-like of body, loping over the ground some twenty yards away, making directly for the running men. Those on the train evidently dare not fire for fear of catching the adventurers, and it was left to Appleton to fire the shot that, striking the mounter right between the eyes, brought it up with a scream of rage, to drop back instantly and lie writhing on the ground.
"Lucky shot, that!" gasped Appleton as he raced past the brute. But they were not out of the trouble yet. There were other monsters to be eluded, and it was a case of dodging them in order to reach the train. Here and there, those aboard had dropped the ladders by which entrance was obtained, and the adventurers instinctively each chose one, rushing towards them and finally succeeding in scrambling up, with amphibians coming through the struts even as the men mounted.
Long-necked brutes were climbing the struts by now, but the radium guns of the Martians soon made short work of them, and the train started off with the adventurers, eager to understand the meaning of the occurrence, staring out of the rear windows at the flat ground littered with dead or wounded amphibians and a jostling crowd of others issuing from the canal.
"The winter trek, I reckon," Appleton said to his fellows, and an inquiry of Namcu elicited the information that that was actually the case: the amphibians, with the water rapidly lessening in the canal, were leaving it for the land, there to spend the winter. Mackenzie growled something about "worse than tanks," but Horsman had been enjoying himself by taking snapshots of the monsters and vowed he didn't mind the "scrap of a nightmare."
"You thrive on 'em," Mackenzie snapped. "And at the rate we're going on, you'll be a mighty healthy youth by the time we get home again!"
There was a general laugh amongst the adventurers at this sally by the Scotsman, who was as little perturbed, and minded as little as any of the others.
"Ungainly looking brutes, and vicious," Appleton said, "but after all they're only doing what the migratory birds do; it is nature asserting itself in them, even as it does in the Martians themselves, who enter the sleeping state for the winter. What is it?" he turned to a Shanga, who approached.
"There is a telephone message for you, White-Skin," the little man said. "From Bracu, at Fambia."
A few moments later, Appleton was speaking with Bracu who had been called up by Namcu, and on hearing of the presence of the adventurers on the train, had wanted to speak to Appleton.
"Why are you going to Dracola?" the Shanga asked him, and Appleton told him.
"It may interest you to know," Bracu informed him, "that sentence has been passed on Spadu. His life has been spared, chiefly because I insisted on it, but he has been condemned to the lalignum mines at Dracola, and was sent there a week ago."
"What does that mean for him?" Appleton asked, and Bracu told him that it meant that Spadu was doomed to remain in the underground city for the rest of his life, working as a slave. It is the worst punishment that could be meted out to a Fambian, the Shanga said.
"Well, I think he deserves it," was Appleton's reply.
"But I think that it's a mistake," was what Bracu said, "and it's my fault since I pleaded for his life. I'm afraid of Spadu and what he might be able to do in the underground city. Might he not be able to work up a revolt there?"
"You little hypocrite," Appleton said, fortunately in English. "You don't mind fighting for your own rights, and when you've got 'em you don't like the idea of somebody else doing the same." He laughed shortly, as he went on in Martianese. "Well, that's a chance, but you told me once, you remember, that the underworld people had enough of revolt the last time! Probably not even Spadu will be able to give them courage enough to try again. If they do, well, you know you've set a very good example of what can be done!"
Evidently Bracu did not like this home thrust, for he cut off, and, beyond laughingly telling his companions what the Shanga had said and feared, Appleton promptly forgot all about the matter, although he was to be reminded of it within a very short time indeed.
Meanwhile, the train pursued its way towards Dracola, arriving there at last and disgorging its human freight in the city near the vast crater-like hole, which Appleton and his friends saw for the first time, and which they knew was the much-talked of Heart of Wooda. It was hundreds of miles across, and thousands of miles in radius. Tremendous factories reared their heads along its "shore," huge sun-valve installations and radium stations were to be seen. There, also, were the mighty oxygen generating stations whence was driven the life-maintaining atmosphere to every part of Mars.
The crater was, as Appleton elicited, one of the great empty seas, with islands dotted about it, or what would have been islands had there been water present. They were just rocky formations shooting up from the tremendously deep bed, and they were utilized to support the monorail across the crater.
"Most certainly this is well named the Heart of Wooda, Namcu," Appleton said, as he stood on the platform on to which he and his friends had alighted and was looking round at the very industrial-like scenery. One thing only was lacking to make it look like a Sheffield, and that was smoke. No towering chimneys belching noisome fog were there: the Martians had, by the use of radium, extracted from the mineral down in these mighty depths, eliminated that curse of great cities, and the clear whiteness of the buildings, fashioned as they were out of stone, was almost dazzling.
"Yes, friend," was Namcu's reply. "It is indeed the Heart of Wooda, for hence Wooda gets life and lives. If the Heart of Wooda stopped working for one day Wooda would die! Thus is it that while most of Wooda sleeps during the winter the workers from north and south carry on here until the coming of spring. There is no winter sleep for them: they do not need it. There is no winter sleep for the slaves who dwell below in the unseen city, whither, I doubt not, you would go ere you leave here?"
"Certainly," Appleton said quickly.
"We will see Jadu, the Governor of Dracola, to whom I go to render an account," the Shanga said, "and he will arrange for that."
They found Jadu to be a Fambian, but very different in demeanour and general appearance from Hoomri. There was about him every suggestion of the man of action, a man ready for emergencies.
"It is not so long ago," he said with a smile, "since I sent some men into the Land of Death for having destroyed the railway line at another spot, because they were in league with Spadu to send you into the Pit—the Pit in which Spadu himself is now. Namcu tells me that you wish to visit that Pit, and other places here. Choose what you would see and everything shall be arranged."
"I thank you," Appleton said. "I would like to see the atmosphere installations."
"The best is beyond the Pit," Jadu told him. "Best because we have just built it, an improvement on all the others. You may go when you like and I will send guides."
Appleton thanked him, and for a while the two men were exchanging views on all manner of things, Jadu proving to be a very communicative person, from whom Appleton gleaned much information on various aspects of life on Mars, especially regarding conditions there in Dracola, and the methods of extracting radium and oxygen, and the kind of people who lived in the great underground city. The result was, that when that night the adventurers were together in the quarters allotted to them in the palace, Appleton was as enthusiastic as he had ever been, if his enthusiasm could be gauged by the fact that he spent several hours at work on his journal. Occasionally he would look up and interpose a few words into the conversation the others were carrying on, and at the end of his scribbling, he closed the book and said:
"If what Jadu says is right, these Martians have improved on that wave-transmission system that has been so much the rage on Earth. They have a system by which they can send waves of oxygen for hundreds of miles, set them free at certain points, and so spread the oxygen over a tremendous area: while at the same time, the valves by which it is done automatically close and allow the waves to pass on to other points. Of course, the secret of it is radium; they have inexhaustible supplies of raw material here. It will be interesting to see their wondrous methods, and I've arranged with Jadu to go across the Pit, as he calls it, to-morrow to inspect the new oxygen station on the other side. And Jadu is coming with us, so it ought to be an interesting time."
Actually, however, the projected visit had to be postponed a few days, because Jadu was unexpectedly busy, and the adventurers filled in the time inspecting various places and getting to know something of the methods used by the Martians to procure the vitally necessary elements of existence. The sun-valves were of great interest to Appleton, because in conjunction with radium-driven pumps, they operated the great oxygen pipes, and as the planet Mars was so much farther from the sun than the Earth is, the mechanism had to be of a much more delicate nature.
Then, too, there were to be visited the powerful lifts that brought up the radium-bearing mineral from the Pit, operating themselves by unseen power of radium directed from a central station where the pressing of a particular button worked its own particular lift.
Altogether, those few days at Dracola were filled with interest—interest that served to excite even greater desire to see the new installation beyond the Pit. It was, therefore, with keenness that, at last, the adventurers entered the monotrain with Jadu, and started off across the great waterless "ocean." Regulated from the shore, the train, at Appleton's request, moved slowly across to enable him to note as much as possible of the character of the scene below. Horsman, as usual, acted as photographer to the party and obtained some fine panorama views, amongst the most impressive of which were those showing the "island villages" standing upon the rocky points that once had been sea-surrounded islands.
"What are they, Jadu?" Appleton asked.
"They are the garrison quarters, where live the guardians of Mars. These men are there in case of trouble with the slaves."
Before Appleton could reply the train had come to a sudden stop, and Jadu, who had been standing beside the adventurers roared out a demand to know the reason for it. No one at hand knew, and Jadu called through the telephone to the engineer who, for reply, said that he could not tell.
"Get into touch with the station then," Jadu ordered, and the engineer tried to speak with the staff at the radium station from which the train was controlled. No answer came—and Jadu, fuming, tried, but without success.
"Try someone else," Jadu suggested. "I'll do the same." And Appleton, who had heard him, wondered what was in the Fambian's mind. He was to know very soon, for Jadu, after a while, managed to get into wireless touch with an officer in his own palace, and from him learned a most amazing story.
"Every one of the lifts just up from the Pit," Jadu told Appleton, "was loaded, not with minerals, but with slaves! It is a revolt. The workers in the stations, slaves like those below, were in league, and, knowing the right moment, they disarmed the guardians; and at the present moment swarms of slaves are surging through Dracola. Already they hold some of the chief points, and my officer tells me that he has had word from other cities around the Pit that the same thing has happened. I must get back to Dracola!"
The announcement that Jadu made as to the revolt caused consternation on board the train, and his rapidly issued orders resulted in a number of the workers rushing to get ready the aeroplane that was carried on top of the train, with wings folded up, but capable of being released within a very few minutes. It was a two-seater into which Jadu and one of his officers clambered when the wings were thrown open.
The next moment the aeroplane had risen vertically from the top of the train and was winging back to Dracola City, leaving the occupants of the train to wait and to wonder what was going to be the outcome.
For several hours they remained there without any news from the mainland, and at last Appleton, growing tired of the inaction, suggested to the officer in charge of the train that he might be allowed to go out and walk about.
The officer gave permission, but Appleton and his companions had not been outside more than half an hour when there was a sharp call from the train, and a command to them to return.
"The slaves! The slaves!" came the cry; and a moment later Appleton had seen the reason for it. For, scrambling up from the dark depths below, could be seen a swarm of figures, some tall, some small, and all of them climbing with amazing agility.
The Rising of the Slaves. Scrambling up from the dark
depths below, could be seen a swarm of figures...
"COME on, fellows, here's more trouble!" Appleton cried, and he began to run along the rough uneven ground. Stumbling at times, falling full length at others, the little band somehow managed to reach the train long before the slaves were at any point at the top, though they were climbing rapidly up the sides of what was a cleft in the island.
Looking out of the window of the train Appleton and his companions watched with amazement events they had seen only in a glimpse beforehand. The slave Shangas, Fambians, Janorians—in fact members of every nation on Mars that they had yet met, besides diminutive people, copper-skinned, and naked, whom they had not seen before, coming into view—these latter were the natural underground dwellers. All of them were undoubtedly making for the train. Some of them were armed with radium guns, others carried spade-like weapons slung across their backs—and not even the rapid fire from the radium guns of the Martians in the train served to make those who survived retire or slacken the amazing pace at which they climbed up the rocky sides of the cleft.
"What's it mean?" Craig asked of Appleton, who shook his head.
"Perhaps—" began Craig, then came to a stop. Followed a moment's craning on his part, as though he were trying to make sure that he was actually seeing what he might only have imagined. Then, with a cry, he said:
"Chief, there's Spadu!" And he pointed to the figure of a Fambian devoid of the one-time ornate covering that distinguished Fambians in the city where so many strange things had happened.
"By St. Andrew, you are right, lad!" shouted Mackenzie, in the excitement of the moment hitting the window pane.
"Right he is, Mac," said Horsman. "And I'm going to have a pot-shot at the gentleman!"
"Seems about the best thing that could happen for Mars," was what Appleton said. There came to him, as in a flash, what Bracu had said a few days before about the menace that Spadu was, and he realised that it was quite likely that, thrown into the Pit to work with the slaves, Spadu had succeeded in causing the revolt by the glowing account of what the Shangas had been able to achieve through being in a position to threaten the very existence of life upon Mars. Moreover, there came to Appleton the thought that probably Spadu had by some means or other—but what means the Professor naturally could not know—the knowledge that the train which had been stopped so suddenly on the island contained the hated strangers who had been partly, if not mainly, responsible for his downfall, and that he was intent upon bringing them to account.
Even while these thoughts were running through Appleton's brain there had been things happening that were to cause an entire turn in the chain of events in Mars. Out there in Dracola itself, and in the other cities on the edge of the Pit, events had been moving swiftly. Although those on the train did not know it, one of the rapid underground trains had sped from Dracola with the news, first that some of the most important places in Dracola had been seized by the rebels, and secondly, that the outward-bound train held not only Jadu, but also the strangers. Spadu, on receiving that message, had roused thousands of slaves still below ground to follow him: for he was, as Appleton had surmised, determined to wreak vengeance upon the adventurers, and believed that he now had the chance to do so. As Appleton had also conceived, Spadu was at the bottom of the rebellion, having worked upon the imagination of the slaves to such an extent that they had decided to emulate the Shangas and seek to wring from the lords of Mars the rights of free people: and they believed that if they could capture Jadu himself they would be well on the way to that. They, on their part, did not care anything about the personal feud of Spadu, although they were willing to do what they could for the man who had inspired them with the courage that they had lacked ever since their last attempt to assert themselves.
Actually, Spadu was the very mainstay of the revolt; and it was therefore not at all remarkable that, as far as the slave in the vicinity of the train were concerned, the death-shriek of Spadu, as he was caught by a shot from Horsman's rifle, should have in some measure quenched their ardour. They saw him fling up his arms as he screamed and went tumbling back into the depths; and, as at the same moment the Martians on the train swept round their radium guns, which took heavy toll of the attackers, there was less desire on the part of the slaves to press forward their attack. They fell away before the vigorous devastating fire; and quick to understand the psychology of the matter, Appleton rushed to where one of the wireless phones was placed and after a while succeeded in getting into touch with Jadu himself in Dracola.
"How goes the day?" the Professor asked, reserving his own vital news for later.
"The slaves have gained nothing since I came," was the reply of the Fambian. "In fact, we have been able to turn them out of three of the places that they had captured. We are now pressing them hardly at other points. They suffer from lack of weapons; they were unprepared, which makes me wonder why they tried this rebellion at all, widespread as it is. At Shenolia, on the other side of the Pit, they are in greater force, and have gained more ground, but that is because there was more disorganization than there is here, through the fact of the winter workers just having taken over their task. At any rate, the time was well chosen!"
"Well," said Appleton, "if by any means you can get the news in amongst them that the man who roused them to rebel has been killed, you will be able, I dare say, to render them less desirous of continuing."
He proceeded to tell Jadu what had happened, and the Commander assured him that he would take every advantage of the situation. What steps Jadu took Appleton did not know until afterwards, but they were effectual, inasmuch as, within a couple of hours after the death of Spadu, the rebellion was quashed, and a short while after that Jadu himself was back on the train.
"A small affair," the Fambian said, rather haughtily, Appleton thought, considering how anxious he had been at the beginning.
"I suppose that the end of Spadu had something to do with it?" Appleton could not resist saying. And Jadu had the graciousness to admit that that was so.
"We managed to get control again of the stations on which existence beneath ground depends," he said, "partly by telling the slaves who hold them that the rebellion was over, because their ringleader was dead. Then we cut off the currents that carry air to the underground—and all those below met the doom that awaits traitors."
"And those above, who were still alive?" queried Appleton.
"They surrendered," was the reply. "And since Wooda must live, we spared their lives. You were right in what you said about Spadu; these slaves were urged on by him and his stories of what the Shangas accomplished. But they have learned their lesson now, and I think that we shall have no more trouble with them! It was only the surprise of it, and that it came just when the change of guardians was being made, that enabled them to achieve as much as they did. If Spadu had remained hidden the revolt might have lasted a long time; it was only his appearance and his consequent death that made matters easy. In a way, you and your friends have saved Wooda, for Spadu no doubt met his death through his desire to take vengeance on you; and, if he had succeeded in getting you, you would have known that there are worse things than death itself! For down beneath the Pit, where the slaves live their own lives and manage their own affairs, they have customs that belong to the shadows!"
With which cryptic saying Jadu turned away to give instructions that were to send the monotrain on its ways again across the vast empty sea.
The rest of the journey was made without incident, and during it Appleton gathered much information. It was broken, however, Jadu, at Appleton's suggestion, sending on the train, and the little party arranging to be picked up by another outward-bound one. They spent a few days on one of the islands, with Jadu as guide, and Appleton examined the strata of the rock, taking specimens of each layer for later examination. Even the most cursory examination proved to him that the Pit had at one time been an ocean, for there were evidences of marine life of many kinds. Fossilized fish, of small size and large, showed on the very face of the rock, and Appleton came to certain important conclusions. He pieced together the story of that great "sea" and its islands. He found that as the water lowered life became more extensive on the islands, and then gradually dried off as the water disappeared more rapidly and left the islands stranded, until there was no life at all, and the great ocean had become dry.
Those few days of exploration gave Appleton much material, and he was highly pleased with the result. He was therefore in a good frame of wind when the time came for the party to board the train that was to carry them to the other side of the Pit.
The hundred and one specimens that had been collected were put aboard, and Appleton was quite content to continue the journey without another break, so that in a comparatively few hours the speedy monotrain bore the party into Shenolia.
"Now you'll have to hurry in your examination, my friend, for I'm getting tired," said Jadu, smiling whimsically. "Another week and I ought to be fast asleep!"
"I am in your hands!" Appleton told him.
The result was that for two days Appleton and his friends lived a hustling life, going over numerous factories and installations, the most interesting one of which was the new radium station. There Appleton's scientific soul was filled with delight as he examined apparatus that eclipsed anything he had ever seen.
In one small building were concentrated the means for extracting radium, the adapting it to a multitude of purposes, the use of it for the control of a vast system of monorailways, and for working a tremendous system of oxygen pipes.
There, indeed, was the driving power of Wooda; and Jadu, to whose energies this improved and concentrated scheme was due, was rightly proud of it.
"It is but just finished," he said, "and it has proved efficient already. A second is in course of erection at Dracola City, but it will be an auxiliary installation, and only used in case of mishap. By a very simple and easy method it will be possible to change over without the least likelihood of trouble, and when you consider that the distance between Shenolia and Dracola City is something like a thousand miles, you will agree that it is a remarkable achievement."
"It is, indeed," Appleton said, lost in admiration; and during the time that he was making the journey back to Dracola he was fully engaged in putting down the record of what he had seen and learned.
On arriving at Dracola he found that the greater number of the ordinary inhabitants had already withdrawn to the winter sleeping quarters, and that thousands of people from Galoria had arrived to take the place of the regular guards.
"Think it'll be safe, Chief?" Ashby asked, when the adventurers were together in their own apartments on the night of the return.
"What?" Appleton queried.
"Why, to go down to the underworld show without Jadu? Somehow, the presence of that fellow gives confidence."
"It ought to be safe enough," Appleton told him. "Jadu says that he received news that everything is quiet below, and that the slaves—poor brutes!—are utterly cowed now. Also, he's going to arrange for a strong guard of Shangas—who seem, apparently, to be reckoned the best fighters in Mars to accompany us."
"Which sounds all right, Chief," put in Horsman. "But what I want to know is, what's going to happen to us while this winter sleep is on? Are we going to stay up here or go back to Janoria to the bus, or what?"
"Personally, I'm for making an extended tour of exploration through what will be almost a sleeping world," Appleton said. "But we'll see when we've explored the depths of the Pit."
Appleton seemed, indeed, to be thinking less about the future than about the present, for he did not allow anything to interfere either with his sleep that night or with his genial mood, when, next morning, Jadu took the little party to one of the big lifts that made rapid communication possible with the world beneath the Pit. In the lift already were a number of Shangas, armed every one of them with their radium guns, and into their keeping Jadu placed the adventurers, warning one of them, whom he called Falcu, that he would be held responsible for them.
Falcu accepted the charge with a quiet smile, and somehow Appleton felt quite a sense of security—a sense that was to increase when, as the lift begun to descend very rapidly, Falcu said:
"Friend, I have heard of you, the man who helped the Shangas to win their freedom. Every one of my men would die for your sake!"
"Thanks," said Appleton, not at all displeased at this mark of favour, especially as he knew that actually he had done nothing more for the Shangas than he had for the Fambians, his only object throughout the whole revolt having been to bring about peace.
The lift shaft, cut out of the solid rock, was ablaze with light all the way down, and every now and then there could be seen openings in the rock-face suggestive of coal mine workings, but all of them well lighted. Falcu informed Appleton that each one of these tunnels was working whence different metals were taken, and the Professor naturally wanted to stop and explore them. Falcu, however, said that his instructions were to go to the bottom first, but that the opportunity would be given later on during the return journey.
With which Appleton had to be content, and so at last arrived at the bottom of the great shaft. Inquiry of Falcu elicited information which made Appleton understand that the shaft bottom was no less than two miles from the surface in a sheer drop. And instead of a dark world, such as might have been expected, they found they were in a world full of light. As they issued from the lift they saw a crowd of men such as they had seen on that day when the slaves had made their attack on the train by issuing from openings at certain spots in the floor of the great empty sea. There were woman and children there, too, all going about their way as in a thriving town above ground, and everyone of them prostrated before the new-comers.
"Will you ride or walk down the main square, friend?" Falcu asked, and Appleton voted for walking rather than taking the small monotrain that stood all ready at hand.
Down the great tunnel the adventurers walked, noting everything: the houses cut in the solid rock, the streets, or what seemed like streets, leading out of the main thoroughfares, which Falcu said were the channels leading to the mine workings, stretching for miles in every direction. There was no difficulty in breathing, the atmosphere was almost as good as that on the surface, and Appleton knew that was caused by the ventilating system and the methods by which the oxygen was circulated throughout the underground city, even as it was done above. Monotrains swung past at high speed, most of them carrying ore, which was to be loaded into lifts and taken to the surface. The strangely assorted inhabitants gazed wonderingly at the visitors, so unlike any they had ever seen before, but no one offered obstruction, and the whole demeanour of them was that of a subservient people.
Presently the party reached a widening in the tunnel, and found themselves in a great square, on each side of which were wonderfully fashioned buildings, or, rather, dwellings cut in the rock. Before one of them was a crowd of people, evidently waiting for something, while on the broad steps leading to it stood a tall and largely built man, copper-skinned and bald-headed, clad in a skin garment that made him look as much like a Zulu chief as anyone Appleton had ever seen.
"Who is he—and what does the crowd mean, Falcu?" the Professor asked.
"That man is Guni, Chief of the Slaves," was the reply. "For the slaves have their own ruler, and govern themselves as far as their social life is concerned. Guni once lived on the surface, but he was made Chief of the Slaves a few days ago, after the old chief was killed in the rising, because of his strength and brutality! It is thus that the chiefs are elected, and once elected they have the power of life and death over the slaves, though the rulers themselves are slaves too."
That Guni knew himself for that, was proved immediately the Shangas appeared, for as a loud cry issued from the throats of the assembled crowd, who prostrated themselves, the Chief descended from the steps and flung himself on the ground in front of Falcu, whom he accepted as the representative of the lords of Wooda.
And Appleton had to smile at the incongruity of things that rendered it possible for people, who themselves were slaves but a short while since, being grovelled before!
"Get up, Guni," Falcu commanded, tapping the slave-chief's head with his foot; and Mackenzie could not restrain a loud guffaw at the sight.
"Shut up, you ass!" Appleton rapped at him, although it was plain that he himself had difficulty in keeping a straight face. "These people know who we are, and we don't want any trouble!"
But the trouble was done. The prostrate crowd, angry at the insult by men who, after all, had nothing to do with them, sprang to their feet.
"These are the men who killed Spadu the Fambian," cried one of them. "They belong not to Wooda—they are not lords in Wooda, and—"
He ceased abruptly as Guni, who was now on his feet, sprang for him, seized him by the neck and hurled him high over the heads of the crowd, to crash against the rock beyond.
"These Shangas are friends of the lords of Wooda!" Guni cried angrily. "He who injures them will bring down the wrath upon us all."
The effect was instantaneous.
The angry crowd that had seemed to be going to surge down upon the adventurers cowered away from their Chief, and even Appleton himself had the sensation of being in the presence of a wild beast, ruthless and unreasoning. The whole affair had been but the incident of a few moments, and the adventurers, as well as their Shanga bodyguard, had been totally unprepared for it. Undoubtedly but for the action of Guni they would have suffered damage before the Shangas, by their authority, had been able to quell the commotion.
Down on the ground again, grovelling, the slaves were, but Guni, standing on the steps, craved that the new-comers should enter his palace. Appleton quietly asked Falcu the advisability of going, and the Shanga assured him that it was quite safe.
"These slaves seem not yet to have got over the excitement of the rising," he said, "but Guni was a wise choice as Chief! You saw how what would have roused still further anger in most men utterly cowed them? Let us go in."
So the whole company went into the palace, to find that, instead of a crude dwelling they were in a well-appointed place, where scores of attendants waited upon the Chief, and where the comforts were little different from those of the Martians above ground. Falcu noted the astonishment of the adventurers, and told Appleton that although these people of the underworld were slaves, yet they were not interfered with in whatever they desired, except liberty, and that so long as they carried on their work of mining and crushing the ore ready for use above they could do as they liked and live as they liked.
"It seems to me, Chief," Ashby said, "that it's a jolly sight better to be a slave in Mars than it is to be an ordinary free citizen in some places on the Old Earth!"
"Perhaps!" was Appleton's reply, as he turned and followed Guni and Falcu, who led the way into a large hall where a feast was prepared. There was nothing wanting in the hospitality of Guni, who placed apartments at the disposal of the strangers, and, after the meal, informed them that there was a special monotrain waiting to take them wherever they wished to go.
So it was that for three whole days the adventurers lived below ground, travelling throughout the strange world which extended for scores of miles in all directions, with little "villages" scattered here and there, but all connected with the main city immediately beneath Dracola. It was a very hive of industry, and there were to be seen evidences of the highest scientific achievement in the shape of strange apparatus for getting out the ore. It was no laborious task, such as befalls to the ordinary miner; machinery did the work, or the greater part of it.
But to Appleton, by far the most interesting aspect of the tour was the opportunity given him to carry his geological investigations further, and fit in more pieces to the story of the growth and the dying of Mars. In each of the workings in the various strata he found knowledge, and it was a very well-pleased scientist who at last entered the lift and was taken back to the world above, while his companions, who had known little or nothing about geology, agreed that they had enjoyed the fascinating "lectures" which Appleton had given them as they followed him through the story of the planet.
"I suppose all this stuff's going to be of some value when you get back, Chief?" Teddy Craig asked, when they were in the lift—with a crowd of slaves, and Guni amongst them, prostrate on the ground outside, bidding their farewells to the Shangas.
"Of course!" was the reply. "You see, I've been able to gather knowledge about what is an older world than ours. It was formed before ours, and is in a greater stage of development—development, indeed, that is now passing on to disintegration. It is a certainty that Mars will become an uninhabited world, like the moon. The water problem has been solved, it is true; but I can foresee the day when there will be no solution to it—because there will be no water. The Martians know this, for they told me that the areas at the poles are growing smaller. This is at the back of the idea that you remember we heard about when we first came: that our coming was a sign of the end!"
"Well, let's hope it doesn't come while we are here," Mackenzie said with a grin. "I shouldn't like to be in at the death of any old world!"
Appleton laughed.
"It won't be a spectacular show," he said. "It will happen by just developing—slowly. As the water grows less the Martians will have to increase their pumping organizations and move nearer the poles. The vegetation will also decrease; and life, or rather death, will keep pace with that process."
"Anyway, all that won't happen while we're here!" Teddy said. "So I'm not worrying! And—hallo—we're at the top!"
The lift came to rest and the party slopped out into a city which, if not altogether silent, was quiet when compared with what it had been when the adventurers had left it a few days before. For Dracola was asleep!
Almost deserted streets, still houses, monotrains "stalled" in the great sheds—such was the picture of Dracola when the adventurers arrived. True, there were still very many hundreds of people, the guards who had come from the pole; but these were almost lost in the vast city, and they were concentrated in the factories.
"Feels oncanny, Chief," Mackenzie said, unconsciously whispering.
"It does," was the Professor's reply, as he turned to Falcu. "I suppose our quarters are still there for us?" he asked the Shanga.
"Of course!" Falcu told him, leading the way into Jadu's palace, where all was as silent and still as the grave. The tread of their feet echoed through the building, and instinctively as if they were walking in a house at midnight and did not want to awaken the sleepers, the adventurers trod lightly.
"There is no need to do that! friends." Falcu told them. "The winter sleep is deep. See!"—he opened a door.
NATURALLY curious, the adventurers looked in and saw a man lying on a bed, wrapped round with silken swathes, so that be looked for all the world like a mummy. "So sleep the Woodans!" the Shangas said. "So, within a little while, will all Wooda sleep, except those who need not sleep. So will they be, living and yet unconscious, until the coming of spring!"
"Well, Chief," exclaimed Mackenzie, "I'm no what ye may call fond o' the Martians, but I'm thankfu' all of 'em don't go to sleep for a few months. You say we've got to stay here for a while, an' 'twould be a lonely worrld!"
"And it's loneliness I want, Mac," Appleton said laughingly. "I've decided that during the winter we'll make an aerial tour over the whole of Mars, or as much of it as we can cover; and it seems to me that we'll have a splendid opportunity to do that without the likelihood of distractions such as we've experienced so far."
"And a rottenly uninteresting time it's going to be for us, I suppose," Horsman said gloomily. "Oh. I don't mean for you; you'd enjoy yourself in a cemetery, especially if it was a frightfully old one! Of course, you can pitch a good tale about this science stuff; but, as far as I'm concerned, the best part of the trip's been when we've been in action, as it were!"
"After all, you're a fire-eater," Appleton told him, grinning. "But you can please yourself—you have done nearly all through! You went and fell in love with Princess Amabius and—"
"Dry up with that rot!" Horsman said.
"Well, didn't you?" Appleton quizzed. "Anyway, if it was all on her side, it caused us most of the trouble we've had, and with Mr. Spadu out of the way now, you ought to stand a good chance with the lady? I suppose"—he rubbed his chin reflectively—"I suppose you'll not be wanting to come back with us, eh?"
Horsman did not answer. He simply swung on his heel and marched angrily along the corridor that led to their quarters. The others, grinning amongst themselves, followed him in a few moments; and when they arrived, and Falcu and his Shangas had been dismissed, they found that the young aviator had recovered his usually equable frame of mind; although in some way Appleton, who had not really been serious and had not thought of the matter to which he referred so lightly, noticed from that time a certain indefinable difference in Horsman—it was as though he were continually worrying around a perplexing problem. Not that Appleton paid very much attention to the matter. He himself was too preoccupied during the months that followed; for after a rest at Dracola, by arrangement with the winter Commander there, he obtained the loan of one of the great air-cruisers and a crew to work it. And so began the great tour of Mars, so necessary if the research work were to be carried to a finish.
With the details of that tour, which lasted throughout the long Martian winter, and was, fortunately for science, uninterrupted by any untoward happenings such as had taken place on previous occasions, we have little to do here. The scientific data that Appleton acquired as the result would take many volumes to recount, as indeed they did; as may be seen by those who are interested, if they can obtain one of the copies of the very rare and monumental work which the Professor wrote, and which it may be remembered caused such a sensation on its publication.
Mars in summer Appleton had seen and tabulated his observations which, like those he made during the winter, served to prove how near the truth astronomers on Earth had been in their deductions as to conditions. The almost complete drying up of the canals, and the consequent death of the vegetation on their banks, fitted in with his preconceived ideas. Even the great jungles of this sleeping planet underwent a vast change, especially those farthest away from the poles. Animal life, too, was affected; for, except for those animals which migrated, as thousands did, towards the poles, the beasts of Mars followed the example of the people and retired for the winter sleep. In the polar regions, however, where the ice deposits were, there was busy life—and an inversion of things as compared with an Earth-winter. There vegetation changed least, and animals and people existed by virtue of the presence of the ice; as distinct from the way in which those lived who dwelt during the winter as guardians in the various central cities—these latter having to be content with the very short rations of water stored in tremendous reservoirs.
Altogether, Appleton was grateful for those months that gave him the opportunity for quiet and comprehensive study. Naturally, he put in much time taking observations of the heavens with the aid of the microtelescope; and, as he told his companions several times, he was engaged in working out a trajectory for the return journey—by no means a small task. The presence of the mysterious planet between Mars and the Earth was a serious problem to be solved, in view of the fact that it was impossible to alter the course of the Marsobus while acting as a self-propelling rocket; and of the other fact that in an atmosphereless space it was not possible to propel it by the screw principle.
"If the mystery planet has an atmosphere the matter will be simple," Appleton said one night, as he sat at the microtelescope while they were at Daloria. He was taking his observations. "But of that I can't say anything. My observations give me absolutely no information beyond the fact that there is something there between us and the Earth. The odds are that there is an atmosphere, and if that is the case we shall be able to cruise all right and then revert to the rocket-principle—using the stranger-planet as a jumping off place, as it were, from which to resume the journey. It looks very much to me as though that is what we shall have to do. Anyhow, we've got plenty of time for me to make up my mind, as we've got a few months to wait before we start back. Though even that time won't be too much for me as I want to sift out the collection of things I've made and reduce it to the minimum of weight. I think we've seen pretty nearly all there can be to see—or, at least, sufficient for my purpose; and I propose leaving Daloria to-morrow and making our way on to Dracola, where I'll do the sorting of the things we've collected on this tour; and then go on to Janoria to pick up the Marsobus; thence to Fambia as we promised Hoomri. Moreover, there's some work to do in trimming up the Marsobus."
The morrow, therefore, saw the programme Appleton had outlined being commenced upon, the first stage being the journey from the pole to the Heart of Woods. Appleton had purposely made Daloria the last place at which to call during the tour, because he wanted to notice the change of conditions with the passing of winter; and now that the spring was opening he was able to observe, as the air-cruiser passed over the canal leading to Shenolia on the edge of the Pit opposite Dracola, the rejuvenation of Mars consequent upon the melting of the ice and the increase of water in the canals. Moreover, in the cities, at several of which the cruiser stopped, the inhabitants were emerging from the winter sleep; this happening earlier in those cities that were nearer the pole. By the time that Dracola was reached spring had then fully come, and the city, which when the adventurers left it had been almost deserted, was once again a hive of industry. Jadu received the adventurers and, at Appleton's request, instructed several of the learned men there to assist Appleton in the classification of his collection of specimens.
This work took up a very busy month for Appleton; during which time Craig and the rest were thrown upon their own resources. Time hung heavily, and Horsman, insatiable for excitement, suggested that they should go on a hunting expedition.
"Falcu says that this is the best time," he informed Craig, "because the animals are waking up and on the move. Remember that fellow like a unicorn that we saw in the natural history museum a day or so ago? They call it by a name which I can't pronounce, but seems to mean Sword-head. We'll call it a unicorn; and I'd like to pot one. Falcu says that, although they're very nearly extinct, there is one in the forest on the other side of the desert. We can take the monotrain to within a mile or so. What do you say?"
"I'm on, if Ashby and Mac are," Teddy Craig told him. "Let's ask 'em."
Ashby and Mackenzie were as enthusiastic as Horsman; and the party of four, with Falcu as their guide, prepared for the expedition.
"Suppose you won't come, Chief?" Horsman asked Appleton, after telling him what was afoot.
"Can't spare the time," was the reply. "But you can bring me back the gentleman's head—that is, if he doesn't bore a hole through you with his horn! How are you going to hunt? With your own big game rifle, or a Martian radium gun?"
"I'm going to do some real huntin'," Horsman said with a grin. "There's no fun in wagging a hit of piping like you do a garden hose!"
"All right—but look out for the unicorn's spike!" Appleton said. "Now get—I'm busy!"
Boarding the monotrain the hunters travelled on the line towards Limburia, passing over the spot where they had had the adventure on that day when Bracu had discovered Spadu's plot to precipitate them into the Pit at Dracola; and, at last, they arrived within easy distance of the forest where they were to hunt. Alighting there, they marched across the desert—a desert of red sand, void of water, and difficult to travel over.
But at last the forest was reached, and on Falcu's advice, a halt was called and camp made for the night.
Morning came and Falcu led the way into the forest, taking the great road that had been cut through it, and was kept free of encroaching growths by the labours of thousands of workers. It was from these, whose arduous task was also hazardous since the rovers of the forest took heavy toll, that Falcu made constant inquiry as to signs of the unicorn, and for several days information was that one had been reported as being in the jungle.
Meanwhile, the sportsmen had not been idle; there were other prizes to be gained, and they found good sport.
There were monster lions and big bears; there were also small beasts, all of which provided good hunting. But there were also weird creatures, specimens of the amphibians who had come up out of the canal on that early winter's day. They were trekking back to the canals, the few who were later than their fellows; and at the appearance of one of them, at any place where the forest workers were, there was a general stampede for cover while the guards—every working party had its guard—fought the monsters, generally winning a fairly easy and costless victory with their radium guns.
There came, however, one evening when an amphibian burst from the maze of trees into a workers' camp where the adventurers were staying for the night; and before the guards could do anything, it had seized one of the men in its long trunk.
"Jove, fellows!" shouted Horsman, as he and his friends with the rest sprang to their feet. "That poor beggar's done for!"
For one brief tense moment all initiative seemed to be taken out of everybody as they watched the mammoth—elephant-like, but bigger than any elephant any of the adventurers had ever seen. The victim, a Limburian, screamed with the fear of it all; the rest of the Woodans had fled for the safety of the trees, except the guards who knew their own helplessness, because they dared not use their radium guns on the monster for fear of killing the man.
It was Teddy Craig who came back to action with a sense of the critical character of the situation and a realization that if anything was to be done it must be done at once, and by the adventurers instead of the rightful guards.
Backing from the until then almost petrified group who remained, the mammoth was making for the trees whence he had come, with the man held fast in the grip of the long trunk coiled up beneath its head, in which two great eyes stared balefully.
"Quick, fellows!" shouted Teddy. "Fire—all of you!" And he set the example by planting a shot from his big-game rifle into the thick hide of the mammoth, the roar of which was unnerving and chilling. Horsman got in another shot even as Craig emptied his own second barrel; and Mackenzie and Ashby, neither of whom had his rifle ready, having been engaged in cleaning up after a particularly good afternoon, during which Horsman and Craig had been resting in the camp, whipped out their automatics and fired rapidly, while the two others reloaded.
"We're filling him full!" gasped Ashby. "And—ah—" There was something of a sob in his voice as he broke off; the mammoth, evidently struck in a vital spot, suddenly released the man, who dropped out of the trunk and lay where he fell. The animal reared on its monstrous hind legs as though it were intending to stamp to destruction the victim of which it had had to let go. But it was not that; the brute had been caught by another shot from Horsman's reloaded rifle—and the bullet had drilled into its body, entering just below the great mouth beneath the trunk. That rearing was the death agony.
And it looked like being the death of the man on the ground, who was evidently unable to move. If those great feet dropped upon him he would be smashed to death.
Teddy Craig saw that; and scarcely knowing what he was doing, certainly not realizing the danger of it, he sprang forward—at an amazing speed he covered the many yards separating him from the animal, grabbed the foot of the Limburian and exerting all his strength, pulled him—only about two feet, but just sufficient to get him out of the range of the mammoth's legs as they descended with a thud that shook the ground; a shot from Horsman's rifle had finished the brute, which rolled over—dead.
Trembling all over, now that the danger was past, he realized for the first time how risky was the thing that he had done. Teddy straightened up and wiped a clammy hand across a cold forehead.
"Gosh!" exclaimed Mackenzie, sprinting forward and clutching the boy as he seemed about to sag to the ground. "It was big, laddie, big! But hold up!"
"I'm all right, Mac," Teddy panted, and he pulled himself together. "I got the wind up. I'll admit; but I'm all right now!"
"That's better, then," Mackenzie told him. "Now we'll haul this poor beggar out and see what we can do for him."
By this time the Woodans, who had seen the incident and had bellowed a chorus of praises, were streaming back into the camp; and they took charge of their companion, who, unconscious now, was discovered to be badly mauled and needing all the medical attention that they could give him. The adventurers were quite content to leave him to them, and they themselves turned their attention to the mammoth.
"The finest pair of tusks I've ever seen," said the globe-trotting Ashby admiringly. "I suppose the Chief'll want 'em—and the whole head!"
"He will," Horsman told him. "So we'd better get busy an' do some trimming up. Come on!"
So they spent several hours at skinning the brute, after Horsman had taken a flashlight photograph of it in all its huge ugliness, and with the three white men standing beside it, looking as pleased as punch over their "bag." It was arranged that they could have the skin taken down to the workers' camp at the edge of the forest, together with their many other trophies, a procedure that was adopted during the remainder of the trip.
It was while they were engaged in the task of "trimming up," as Horsman had called it, that a wireless message was received from a camp, several miles deeper in the forest, to the effect that signs of a unicorn had been found; and, naturally, the hunters were full of enthusiasm and anxious to get on. They would have travelled through the night if Falcu had not insisted upon their waiting until the morning, because of the dangers of the jungle; but when morning did come no time was lost in getting on the march. The ten miles into the forest to the camp, from which the news had come, were quickly covered, and on arrival Falcu made inquiries as to the signs that had been reported and the locality in which they had been seen. The result was that within half an hour of arriving at the camp, the hunters were going through the forest, with a band of workers as guides and assistants in clearing a path where that was necessary. For several hours they went on, taking no heed of the very numerous game that they saw, their one thought being for the unicorn.
And at last one of the guides, who had been well in advance, came back with the word that he had found the spoor of the animal, and cautioning the hunters to exercise all care.
Care it was that the party now exercised, and it was proved to be very necessary, for within an hour the spoor, which was very clearly marked, brought the hunters to the end of their quest; or, rather, it would perhaps be better to say that the end of their quest came for them.
There was a rushing, tearing sound as of some big brute careering through the undergrowth; and out of the maze of trees and the tangle of twining vegetation, there came—the unicorn. Half horse, half lion he seemed to be, with the addition of the horn that, planted in the middle of his forehead, projected for something like two feet. Alert, every line of its body suggesting strength, and every movement of it agility, the animal bounded at the Woodans who were in front scattering them on the instant, as they, obeying the command of Falcu that only the adventurers were to do the shooting, made for the trees. After them the unicorn leapt, and somehow the hunters, as they each simultaneously raised their rifles, had the impression of a flashing sword as the horn moved. Mackenzie's rifle got off the first shot, followed by one from Horsman who, with his characteristic enthusiasm, growled out his grouse at not having been first.
"Never mind!" Mackenzie said. "You—Look out, by George!"
NO need to call any warning. All of them had seen what was happening. The unicorn, along whose haunches one of the bullets had ploughed a red path, screamed with maddened pain, spun round, and charged straight for the men.
Their guns spoke, but with no effect on the animal, whose hoofs pounded upon the ground as he raced forward at terrific speed.
"Load up!" yelled Mackenzie, who himself had emptied his rifle; and Teddy Craig, with one barrel left, pumped his shot at the brute and caught it. But the result was only more madness, and before either Ashby or Horsman could bring their rifles to bear again, the animal was almost on them.
"Run!" shouted Craig; while Mackenzie and Ashby followed him in a race for the shelter of the trees, Horsman, forgetting discretion, butt-ended his rifle and made a sweeping blow. He had realized that, being nearest, and with the animal making deliberately for him, he would most likely be caught by the speeding brute and pierced by that flashing horn.
There was a crack as the rifle struck the animal, a loud cry of fear from Horsman, and a sound of anger from the beast; and Ashby, spinning round, saw Horsman transfixed by that horn, and his rifle lying broken on the ground.
Ashby flung up his rifle, remembered that it was not loaded, threw it from him, drawing his revolver as he did so. But, before he could shoot, Mackenzie had fired; and the unicorn dropped to the ground, writhing in its death agonies, and every movement of it brought a cry of pain from the unfortunate man impaled upon the horn.
Mackenzie and Ashby ran forward, bent on rescuing their comrade; but the animal, seeing them through its filming eyes, tried to rise, and fell away again, and died as it did so.
"Poor wretch!" Mackenzie almost said as he bent over Horsman, who by now was unconscious. "How are we going to get him off?"
They stood a moment or so looking at Horsman, wondering how to rescue him. It was no matter to be taken on lightly, for the horn had entered the stomach and emerged at the back. To draw the man off would be as dangerous as the entrance of the horn had been, tearing the vital parts. Yet, it had to be done.
"Craig," Mackenzie said at last to Teddy, who had come up, "you an' Ashby will hold up the brute's head while I try to pull the poor beggar off slowly. And for goodness' sake don't make a mistake and let the head fall!"
Without a word the two comrades did as Mackenzie had ordered; while the Scotsman held Horsman steady.
"Ready?" Mackenzie asked; and at the word from Ashby he began, as gently as a mother tending an injured child, to draw Horsman along the reddened horn. Unconscious though he was, the unfortunate man groaned at every movement; but, realizing how necessary it was to get him off as quickly as possible, Mackenzie continued. Slowly, excruciatingly, the task went on, the sweat pouring off the Scotsman, and the arms of the men holding up the head of the animal aching. . . .
Until at last Mackenzie said quietly:
"Can Craig manage to hold it alone, Ashby, for about half a minute? I'm afraid to take all the burden myself when he comes off."
"All right, Mac," Ashby told him; and, giving Teddy the whole of the weight, went round to where Mackenzie was holding Horsman on the very tip, as it seemed, of the horn.
Together they finished the nerve-racking work, and so got the airman free. The blood that had been issuing comparatively slowly from the wound, now began to flow rapidly and Mackenzie, who carried the party's medicine case slung on his back, got to work at what rough surgery he knew—eventually to be stopped by the Shanga leader, who had succeeded in getting the workers to return.
"Leave it to me, friend," he said. "I know much of the medicine of the Wise Men!"
"What do you say, Ashby?" Mackenzie asked, and Ashby suggested that the Shanga could do no worse than they themselves.
Whereupon, at a word from the Scotsman, the Shanga proceeded to tend the wound, using certain medicines of which Mackenzie knew nothing. They at least had the effect of stopping the flow of blood; and also they, or perhaps it was the handling of the wound, brought Horsman back to consciousness.
A sorry looking spectacle he was, and weak. Unable to raise himself, scarcely able to speak, he lay on the ground, and his comrades realized that their expedition had come to a sudden end.
"We must get him back at once, fellows," Mackenzie said, and turned to the Shanga and asked him what the Woodans could do to assist in carrying the injured man away. Instantly all was activity amongst the workers, who improvised a litter and, with gentle hands, lifted Horsman into it.
So they carried him through the forest. So they carried him, after many, many days of hard travelling, into the desert, beyond which ran the railway that would take them back to Dracola. So, too, they carried him over to that railway and waited until, having sent a wireless message to the city, a train came out to meet them; and into that Horsman was lifted, together with the trophies that had been collected during that ill-fated hunting expedition.
Appleton himself came on the train, anxious to see what had happened; and his face was very serious as he listened and examined Horsman, who, although conscious, was still in great pain and unable to move.
"It looks pretty bad for him," the Professor said, when they were away from him. "We've only got a month or so before we ought to be starting for the Earth, and if I know anything at all about such things, it will take longer than that for Horsman to recover sufficiently to stand the journey. And if he can't go it will mean staying here, all of us, until the next opposition!"
"Ah, well, Chief," Mackenzie said quietly, "it's no use meeting trouble half way. We'll have to wait and see. I should carry on just as if we knew we were going."
"Of course I shall," was the reply. "I've finished up at Dracola, or very nearly, and we can be going across to Janoria for the bus. I shall leave Horsman at Dracola, with which we can be in constant touch, while we work at putting the Marsobus shipshape."
It was a very sad party that arrived at Dracola, where Horsman was immediately given into the hand of the best doctors, who pronounced a none too favourable verdict, telling Appleton that the injured man's internal organs had been severely torn and that poisoning had set in.
"It looks, as I thought, as if it's going to be a long job," Appleton said to his comrades. "The doctors promise to take every care of him and to do all that they can while we're away. I shall go to Janoria easier of mind knowing that."
Nevertheless, it was evident, while the journey was being made to Janoria, that the Professor was by no means as easy as he had suggested. All during the sojourn on the planet he had been light-hearted, as joyous as a schoolboy almost, enthusiastic over the whole adventure and meeting every danger cheerfully, seeming to count everything as little compared with the discoveries he was making. Now there were furrows in his forehead, and he seldom smiled—a demeanour that he maintained during the weeks at Janoria that were spent in overhauling the Marsobus. He was still enthusiastic, it is true, and perhaps never more so than when he was engaged in preparing new supplies of his famous fuel that supplied the motive power for the giant machine that had accomplished the journey to Mars, and was to set off in such a short time, everything being favourable, for the return trip to Earth.
There was much to be done with the Marsobus in the way of overhauling the engines and generally putting her to rights, and seeing that everything was "true." Appleton superintended everything, and he was a very exacting Chief during those days; so that it was a long time before he expressed himself satisfied and free to run back to Dracola to see Horsman. The airman, who was better, would never, so said the doctors, be able to leave Wooda.
"Somehow," one of them said, "I doubt whether he is very much upset over that. He seems very cheerful about everything!"
Appleton, going in to see Horsman, found that the doctor had spoken truly, for although unable to move on his bed, the airman seemed to be quite cheerful.
"Lo, Chief," he said. "How are things?"
"All right, Horsman," Appleton told him. "How about you?"
"Oh, I guess I'm done for," was the reply, given without a suggestion of fear. "Anyhow, I've had a fine life while it lasted, and we've all got to 'go west' sometime. When do you start for the Old Earth?"
"As soon as you're fit to travel," Appleton told him.
"Good sakes, man," Horsman said, "that will never be!"
"Then we'll—" Appleton began, but the invalid cut him short.
"No, you won't stay," he said curtly. "Do you think I'd agree to the whole of the adventure being chucked away just because I can't go back and see the end of it?"
"But—"
Horsman refused to allow Appleton to frame the protest.
"I tell you, Chief," he said, "that I'm content to remain here. I know, of course, that it means for good; but what's it matter? When Hoomri was here the other day—"
"What's that?" Appleton exclaimed. "Hoomri here?"
"Yes, and Amabius with him," was the reply; and there was something in Horsman's voice that made Appleton look sharply at him. "Hoomri told me, when I said that it looked as if I'd got to be left behind when you go, that I should be an 'honoured' guest at Fambia—and—and—oh, you know, Chief, Amabius seemed to be rather pleased at the prospect!"
"Phew!" Appleton breathed. "Do you really mean to say, Horsman, that you want to stay on Mars—cut off from all those you know and love and—"
"Listen, Chief," Horsman said quietly. "You remember what I told you on that day when I answered your advertisement? I was fed up to the eyebrows. Tired of things, just out of the war, you know. Every single soul I loved in the world gone—smashed by a Zeppelin bomb during one of the raids. The mater and my young brother and—and—the girl I should have married. Nothing to live for. Nothing to go back for. So what's the difference where I live? Besides—have you ever thought—"
"What?" Appleton asked dully.
"That, tied as I can see I'm going to be to Mars," Horsman said, "it will provide a means for constant communication with the Earth? When you go back you will undoubtedly take one, if not more, of the Martian wireless instruments, which are so different from those on Earth; and they will give the wherewithal for communication. So you see that I shall be doing a service to science!"
It was said with a whimsical smile, which did not, however, deceive Appleton, who had at once understood that in a way Horsman was glad of the opportunity to remain on Mars. Yet the Professor felt that he had a responsibility in the matter.
"Now listen, old man," he said quietly. "Although I engaged you for this trip, I am not the master of your actions—not of your personal wishes at any rate. If you elect to remain here, that is your affair, so long as you exculpate me from any responsibility. Naturally, if you wanted to go back, I should wait for you if—if—"
"You thought there were any chance of my recovery?" Horsman queried. "About that you needn't worry, for, as far as I can understand the doctor fellows, they don't hold much hope of my ever being able to make that trip back. Anyway, as I've said, I don't really want to, as things stand. As for relieving you of responsibility, why, Chief, I'd sign a dozen documents to that effect if you wanted me to. So make your mind easy on that score. How are the other fellows?"
"Top-hole!" Appleton told him. "Though I have a feeling that now that the time is approaching for the return, they are feeling a bit homesick! While there was plenty of excitement going on, they were happy enough and didn't mind anything; but now, when its all hard work at getting ready for the trip, they're somehow different. After all, I suppose, I oughn't to expect you fellows to be quite as enthusiastic as I am—I've got so many more interests than you have. But, Horsman, I'm eternally obliged to you and to the others for having come with me and for having been such good pals all through. By the way, suppose that you do stay—"
"It's no supposition!" Horsman said firmly. "I'm staying! So what about it?"
"I owe you something!" was the reply, given with a short laugh. "I engaged you, you know, and there was to be some sort of a return for your services. But how on earth—or on Mars, I guess I ought to say—am I going to pay you? British coin wouldn't be much good to you here—not if I had it!"
Horsman laughed back at him.
"Don't bother yourself, Chief," he said. "I've had all the payment I want in the sheer joy of it all, and life's best payment is its joy, you bet! That's one of the things that makes Mars such a jolly old place. They don't have money—they don't tally things off at so many pence an hour or a pound. The system of every man being entitled to the wherewithal to live is a great idea. But—" He hesitated for a moment, and then went on again. "There's one thing you can do, if you're so beastly anxious about recompensing me for services I've given freely and willingly; when you get over to Fambia, shove in a good word with me to Mr. Hoomri. You know what I mean—Amabius, and all that."
Appleton did not laugh at his request. He promised that he would try faithfully to do as Horsman asked; and then, with a fervent handshake and a promise to come again and see him and learn whether he was still of the same mind, the Professor left the room, and in due course arrived back at Janoria, where he found everything ready for the journey to Fambia.
It was not until they were on the way thither that Appleton told his comrades what had transpired between him and Horsman; and none of them expressed surprise. Rather, they agreed that they had expected for some time that Horsman had been intending to remain on Mars.
"Knew all along, Chief," Mackenzie said, "that the beggar was too int'rested in Mistress Amabius. That drilling by the unicorn has provided him with a fine excuse an' one that can't be got over!"
"I'm not at all sure," Appleton told them, "that Horsman hasn't conspired with those doctors about the possibility of his ever getting well. But, anyway, he's certainly decided as to what he's going to do!"
One thing that Appleton did not tell his friends was what Horsman had asked him to do when he reached Fambia. He regarded that as a personal secret and trust, and honoured it as such.
The Marsobus, in which the adventurers had not travelled since the previous autumn, was working beautifully; and, long as the journey to Fambia was, it was done in good time. Appleton had sent a message through to Hoomri announcing his coming, and on arrival there was a crowd of Fambians to welcome the adventurers after their long absence from the first place at which they had landed on Mars. Bracu and a company of his Shangas were there also, and Appleton was delighted to see, after a few hours in the city, that the relations between Fambians and Shangas were all that could be desired. No longer were the Shangas just workers and nothing more; they were free citizens, taking their share in government and in the social life of the city; and Appleton was gratified to learn from Hoomri himself, when they sat together that evening talking over many things, that the example which Fambia had set—even although it had been unwillingly—was being watched closely by other nations.
"Even the Limburians are wondering whether it would not be best to grant the same liberty to the Black Skins," Hoomri told him.
"If you had said," Appleton put in quietly, "that it was being considered whether to give such liberty to the slaves who work in the Pit—on whom depends, after all, the very existence of life upon Wooda—you would have been saying that which sounded highly reasonable and beneficial. Really, friends, I consider that you Woodans, who have solved the problem of internationalism as amongst the great nations—compelled to do so, I know, by reason of your remarkable interdependence on one another—exhibit an incredible folly in allowing such weak spots in your system."
"I know—I know," was the reply. "Since the revolt of the Shangas, I have seen how foolish we are. With regard to the workers in the Pit, they can only be granted freedom by the agreement of all nations—and we are arranging a conference to see if that agreement can be reached. Fambia will go with a story of success that may well weigh in the balance. But tell me, how fares your friend who is still in Dracola?"
"He fares ill, I fear," Appleton told him. "At least, it will be a long time before he is well again, and I know that I shall never see him so. For I shall be gone by then and—"
"So he is still of a mind to stay on Wooda?" Hoomri asked, glancing at Appleton out of the corners of his eyes.
"Yes," the Professor said. "For one thing, he cannot undertake the journey as he is; and, for another, he does not want to. He tells me that you have offered him the hospitality of Fambia."
"I owe him much," Hoomri said quietly; and Appleton, who knew what he meant, plunged right in to keep his promise to Horsman. Whatever he may have been as a scientist, Appleton was no great hand at matchmaking, but he made his meaning sufficiently clear for Hoomri.
"I have suspected something of it," the Fambian said when the Professor had finished. "For I have watched my daughter, and I have read her mind. Ever since that day when your friend saved her from Dracu the traitor I have suspected, and I remember her when she stood in the gallery of the Great Hall while Spadu lied. I felt then that I knew. But it is a great thing, friend. So great that my people would have to be consulted—and that cannot be while the young man lies a cripple. But this you may tell him: when he recovers, and if he and the Princess are of the same mind still, I will place the matter before the people and abide by their decision; I will even do what I can to influence them!"
"If there is one thing calculated to make my friend get well," said Appleton decidedly, "it is that; and I'm not going to wait until I can get down to Dracola again before telling him. I'll phone through to-morrow."
On the morrow Appleton did so, and, getting into touch with Horsman, said:
"I've got some good medicine for you, old man," and told him what it was.
"THANKS, Chief," the invalid said, with a slight but happy laugh. "Was the old man chirpy about it?"
"Pretty well, I think," Appleton told him.
"Good!" came Horsman's reply. "But I'm taking no risks of your insisting on me coming back with you. Remember, even if I get well enough before you go, I'm staying! That's a bargain!"
And Appleton had no option but to agree; although, personally, he would have liked to take Horsman back with him. There was something tremendously weird about the very idea of leaving a comrade on this strange world, cut off for ever from his own fellows. However, Horsman had made his choice, and there it was. The Marsobus would set off for the Earth without him.
So Appleton accepted the inevitable, and devoted himself to the final preparations for departure from the planet; the most important of which was the completion of the calculations necessary to obtain the accurate trajectory. For many nights he sat through the long hours peering through the microtelescope, working out elaborate mathematics, and, in collaboration with two of the Wise Men of Fambia, trying to solve the problem of the strange body that had intervened between the Earth and Mars.
It was as the result of this concentration that he made the great discovery which, he told himself, solved the problem of the return to Earth. Before, he had believed that the Marsobus would start from Mars with men in her who did not know what they were to meet in the illimitable space; but now he was confident that it was going to be no blind leap into the dark. He thought that he knew what he was going to find—and that, as he had guessed and hoped—the strange body would provide a stage on the journey and not an obstacle. . . .
The following morning Appleton set off from Fambia to pay his last visit to Horsman, and the rest of the adventurers accompanied him. They were all seriously quiet as the monotrain conveyed them through country over which they had passed several times before, for all felt the awesomeness of the moments that were awaiting them when they arrived where Horsman was still lying. Appleton, who had said nothing of his discovery, sought to relieve the tension by telling his companions what had happened, and, in a measure, succeeded in his purpose, although there was a "backwash," as it were: the knowledge that the return journey was possible served to impress upon them the fate to which Horsman was consigned, even although he were a willing subject.
"You see, fellows," Appleton told them, "I've managed to find out what the Dark Planet, as I've been calling it, really is. As you know, the telescope showed nothing except an intervening body—or rather, at first, it showed nothing except that it was as though there were nothing beyond it. It blotted out the Earth, that was the truth of it. But during these last few nights I've solved the problem—that Dark Planet is one with an atmosphere so dense that it renders the planet itself invisible. In all my study of astronomy I have never seen anything like it. That atmosphere must be miles and miles in depth; and, moreover, it is one that is filled with such a proportion of moisture that it presents an appearance almost of solidarity."
"Well, what's the effect for us, Chief?" Teddy Craig asked eagerly. He had forgotten what Appleton had said on a previous occasion about an atmosphere being one of their chief hopes of making the Dark Planet a stage from which the journey could be continued.
"Just this. That whereas I was afraid that the existence of the intervening body was going to be an obstacle, inasmuch as it is in the direct line of the trajectory that constitutes the route home—"
"Fine worrd, home, fellows!" put in Mackenzie. "Y'know, I left the Old Earth on this jaunt 'cos was tired o' things there, and because—Ah, weel, there's no need to drag all my personal affairs into it—but I'll be mighty glad to get back. Mon, I long for the sight of an honest Scotch face!"
"Thanks, Mac," Appleton laughed over at him. "Glad you said Scotch, and not human. Wouldn't have been exactly nice, you know. But I understand your feeling, and as I said to Horsman, I'm eaten up with appreciation of the way all you fellows have behaved and stuck to me."
"Couldn't have done much else if we'd wanted to, could we?" Ashby said, with a grin.
"True, it wouldn't have been much good if you had done anything else; but by being so loyal you've made the job far easier than it might have been. But as I was saying before our dour but honest Scotsman interrupted me, the fact of the atmosphere to the Dark Planet means that I can just set the Marsobus to reach it, acting as a rocket, and directly we arrive within the atmosphere we can throw out the wings and fly. Then it'll be up to us to pass over that world and project ourselves again into space. As far as I can see, everything ought to be plain sailing: it only means making a break in the journey instead of doing it in one long burst, as we did when we came."
"Burst, you call it?" Mackenzie said. "I lost count of the time it took!"
"I didn't," Appleton told him, with a smile. "Those priceless diaries of mine contain all such trivial matters as that! Fellows, I prophesy this: when we get back to Earth we'll be the greatest wonders of any age yet. You'll see Mac, for instance, doing stunts for the films, and—"
"There won't be any stunts for me," growled the Scotsman. "An' if there were, they couldn't be anything up to what's happened up here. But I guess that some o' the films that friend Horsman took'll make a sensation!"
"You're right, Mac," Appleton agreed enthusiastically. And it was evident that he was gaining no small amount of pleasure in the sheer anticipation of what would happen when Earth was reached again. "Anyhow, I'm off to sleep now."
In due course the monotrain disembarked them, and in a little while they were with Horsman, who was now able to sit up. He was looking much better, and was in high fettle.
"Was wondering when you lot were coming," he greeted them. "Had rather an idea that I might be able to get down to Fambia to—Dr—see you off, you know. When's it happen?"
Appleton told him, and Horsman grinned.
"Then I shall be able to come along to Fambia," he said. "In fact, if you can wait here for about three days, I can probably accompany you there. What about it?"
The suggestion was hailed with delight by his comrades, and so for three days they remained with him, having a really good time, thanks to the hospitality of the people. The doctors were very pleased at the recovery which Horsman had made; but, secretly, Appleton felt that it was largely due to the attitude of Hoomri with regard to Amabius.
"I'm no cripple now, am I?" Horsman asked rather plaintively, as, adieux to the Martians having been made at last, the adventurers were being whirled along towards Fambia.
"Good sakes, no, man," Appleton told him; "you're a miracle!"
"Thanks," Horsman said. "Then I'm going to get Hoomri, if I can, to settle the little matter with me before you go. I've been thinking that if the Fambians say 'No!' it'll not be much use for me to stay on, will it? I hadn't realized before, you know, that there would have to be a vote of the people, as it were: thought it'd be all plain sailing. Knew it would be as far as Amabius was concerned, and didn't have much doubt o' Mr. Hoomri."
"I understand," Appleton told him. "I didn't like to say anything about it before, because I did not really expect that you would ever recover sufficiently to go back with us, and it would have been a cruel thing, old man, to suggest that there wasn't any hope in the direction you were looking."
That Horsman's recovery was a remarkable one was evident enough by the way in which he stood the long journey to Fambia. True, the motion of the monotrain was not one calculated to do him any harm, but there was, nevertheless, the strain of travelling, and he stood it very well. Probably it was optimism that kept him up so well, optimism that showed in his face when at last the little band detrained at Fambia—to find themselves met by Hoomri and Amabius herself, who had been informed by wireless that Horsman was coming.
There was no doubt whatever in Appleton's mind when he saw the Princess that Horsman had made a complete conquest of the lady's heart, while the pleasure shown by the majority of the Fambians who were there also seemed a good augury for the result of the vote that would have to be made if Hoomri kept his word and made the proposition to them that this man from a strange and unknown world should be not only made a citizen of Fambia, but should also take as wife the daughter of the King.
The fact that Horsman was so far recovered inspired Hoomri, as an act of courtesy to Appleton, to arrange for the voting to take place immediately. So a day or two after the return of the adventurers the wishes of the people of Fambia were known, and they were strong for the proposal that Hoomri had placed before his subjects.
It was not an altogether unanimous vote, however, and Hoomri told Appleton that quite a section of the people had demurred. These were the reactionaries—the people who looked askance at the franchise of the Shangas and who were, really, opposed to Hoomri himself. Nevertheless Hoomri considered the vote to be sufficiently in favour of the proposition, and called a great public meeting to ratify it, after which he held a feast of celebration.
It was a great affair. Hoomri had his daughter on one side and Horsman on the other, with the rest of the adventurers ranged near at hand. Formally, yet with evident emotion, Hoomri congratulated the young couple, and was in the midst of his speech when there came a sudden interruption.
There was a loud clamour outside the Great Hall, and a Shanga guard rushed in to say that there was a large crowd outside shouting: "Down with the White Skins!" Before Hoomri could answer there came a rush of people, and instantly all was commotion. Peaceful and happy feasters found themselves faced by a hostile crowd distinctly menacing, and not at all chary of displaying their weapons.
"Get Amabius out of the way, Chief!" called Horsman, unable himself to do anything but sit in his chair; and the Professor and Teddy Craig sprang to accede to his demand. But Amabius was on her feet on the instant and refused to budge. Scornfully she looked at the angry crowd, and, to the surprise of all, she began to harangue it.
"Shame on you, O Fambians!" she cried, and instantly the clamour subsided. "The voice of the people is with your King, and, know you this, that I, the King's daughter, am content to do what the majority agree to. Only death can stop me; and see—I stand before you! Kill me if you will—or dare!"
She threw out her arms, as though inviting the stroke that should end all things for her; but not a man of the discontented moved. They had been awed by this frail-looking woman; and it was Horsman himself who, raising himself as best he could in his chair, clinched the matter.
"Listen, O Fambians!" he said. "You have heard what your Princess has said"—he held out his hand, and Amabius took it. So, these two faced the crowd. "Stranger as I am amongst you, though I have, it seems, made many friends, I want nothing but the love of this your Princess. Friend of Fambia have I been since ever I came hither. Did I not help to quell the revolt that Spadu, the man who would have dethroned your King, carried farther than it would otherwise have gone? He aimed at the hand of your Princess—and some day would have reigned in the place of Hoomri, by virtue of his wife. But I think not that I aim at that. Give me this woman for my wife, and it is all that I ask. Stranger as I am, I would not reign in Fambia. A Fambian I will become by adoption, but that is all. They lie who have said that I have set eyes on a higher state than that! Listen also to me further: if still you say no to what all others have agreed, know this. That since I cannot go hence with my friends, I will take me to the Land of Death and—"
"Thither will I go with you!" came the voice of the Princess.
Somehow that touched a chord of sympathy, and although there was another and greater uproar, it was of a very different kind—there were acclamations. The discontents seemed to be perfectly satisfied, and after a few moments what had seemed likely to prove an ugly scene ended by the disturbers walking out of the building!
"Eh, mon, but it was fine!" Mackenzie said to Appleton when they sat down again.
"Some betrothal feast this!" grunted Ashby. "Horsman's sure got very, very badly bitten."
"And the lady's worth it," Appleton told them. "I'm jolly sorry we shan't be here to see the wedding, because Hoomri's made up his mind that that can't take place until Horsman's really better, and the beggar's not likely to be well enough for that for a month or so. And a week hence sees us on our way. Meanwhile, fall to!"
They fell to, and the feast went on gaily and happily and exhaustively, until sheer exuberance of spirits brought it to an end and sent the feasters to rest.
The week that followed was filled with plenty of work for the adventurers, but at last they were ready for the great adventure that lay before them.
The Marsobus, run out of the great shed where she had been housed, lay gleaming in the sun. Across the canal, on the island city, a great mass of Fambians and Shangas stood and watched. Around the Marsobus itself were Hoomri and Bracu, Amabius and, sitting in a chair that had been brought over for him, Horsman, white-faced and furrow-browed as he gazed upon his comrades. The hand of the Princess rested upon the man's shoulder as though she realized, as no doubt she did, what he must be feeling in this moment when he was to say farewell for ever to those with whom he had gone through so much, and, more than that, when he was about to see his last chance of returning to that world to which he belonged.
It was a very solemn little company of adventurers that approached the group. The dour Scotsman's eyes were suspiciously glistening. Ashby's twitching face showed the emotion he was feeling, and Teddy Craig was frankly gulping back the sobs that would not be denied. As for Appleton, he could scarcely trust himself to speak as he held out his hand to Horsman.
For a moment or so those two remained thus, hand clasped in hand, looking into each other's eyes. It was Horsman who broke the silence: "Good-bye, comrade—good-bye all. Fine pals you've been!"
The words smashed the tension for them all, and, relieved by the cheeriness of the man they were leaving, they shook hands heartily and long, turned and bade farewell to the Martians, who, understanding the stress of the moment, had little to say except to wish a speedy and safe journey. Then wringing once more, one by one the hand of Horsman, the adventurers turned and filed into the Marsobus.
Horsman, watching them, saw the great door swing to, heard the click as it locked, started as though he would rise and follow, then sagged back again. The light touch of the woman at his side gave him a grip upon himself, and when Craig looked out of the window it was to see Horsman smiling bravely and waving the thin hand of an invalid.
"Ready, fellows?" came Appleton's voice.
"Ay," said Mackenzie and Ashby, the latter at the steering-control and Mackenzie at the engine, while Appleton himself was standing at a window with the kinematograph machine.
"Then let her go!" the Professor said, and the slight hum of the engine was followed by the gentle tremor of the Marsobus as she seemed to leap like an unleashed hound.
Down below, in the fleeting seconds during which it was possible to see anything, Appleton and Craig saw the frantic excitement amongst the Martians; saw, too, that frail figure sitting in the chair, with hand cupped over eyes, that stared and strained to see the last of the machine that held his friends.
Onward went the Marsobus along the trajectory that Appleton had worked out, as accurately and undeviatingly as she had on the journey from Earth. Time slid back into eternity. The dull monotony of the days gripped, but was broken by the cheerfulness of Appleton and the occasional interchange of wireless messages with Horsman there in Fambia. The nights were, most of them, occupied—filled by Appleton, at least, in the careful scrutiny of the infinite depths, his greatest charge being that mysterious body towards which they were speeding with all the power of the mighty engines of the Marsobus. Clearer and clearer it grew, as they drew nearer, and at each night Appleton knew more surely that he had been right in his conjecture—so sure that it was no surprise to him when, in due course, the Marsobus leapt out of the atmosphereless infinity into the enveloping folds, as it were, of what Appleton knew to be the atmosphere of the body that he had unconsciously come to call the Water World. Like a shimmering morning mist over a frost covered field as the sun touched it, that indefinable phenomenon had appeared as the Marsobus approached it by day; and yet the instant the machine plunged into it the illusion disappeared. Appleton, at the controls, manipulated the levers with calm skill, and immediately the Marsobus, that had come thus far on its rocket-like system, threw out its folded planes and the propeller, till then useless, spun; and a quartet of wonder-eyed men stared through the windows.
"My word!" breathed Appleton. "It's water—all water!"
Stretched out as far as the eye could see, even from that great height, was a mass of water, only broken here and there by very small land masses. Appleton muttered:
"It looks like a drowned world!
"Listen, fellows," he said, and the look on his face was such that all knew he was about to say something of import.
"You want to stay here awhile, eh?" the engineer asked without a tremor.
"Yes," said Appleton, then hesitated as he saw the look on Ashby's face. "No, Ashby?" he asked suddenly.
"We've done enough!" said Ashby, almost fiercely. "I'm sick and tired of the whole show. I-I—"
The Professor realized that Ashby was now feeling a great bitterness at the very suggestion of interrupting the journey.
"Very well," he said quietly, but his face showed his disappointment. "We'll go on!"
Ashby flushed deeply; then holding out his hand, said:
"Chief, forgive me! I'm a weak fool. Stay!"
"Thanks, I'll think about it," Appleton said calmly. "We've got to go down in order for me to work the trajectory, and we'll see if it's worth staying here a little while. It won't be for long, of course."
So the Marsobus was steered until she was over one of the islands, and then descended. As she descended crowds of figures were seen running about, and when the Marsobus got low enough the adventurers saw that there was great excitement.
"It's an inhabited world, even if it's a drowned one!" Appleton said. "Ready—we're landing!"
As lightly as a bird the Marsobus touched the ground, and instantly the crowd that had scattered when they saw the great machine descending rushed forward menacingly.
"What about it, fellows?" Appleton asked. "Shall we stay here—or go and find another and uninhabited island?"
"It's up to you. Chief," Mackenzie said; and Appleton decided to stay.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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