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at him that time he had covered her lips with mad kisses, in the pits of the palace

of O-Tar. As she watched him she could not but compare his swordplay with that

of the greatest swordsman of two worlds--her father, John Carter, of Virginia, a

Prince of Helium, Warlord of Barsoom--and she knew that the skill of the Black

Chief suffered little by the comparison.

Short and to the point was the duel that decided possession of the Orange Chief's

fourth. The spectators had settled themselves for an interesting engagement of at

least average duration when they were brought almost standing by a brilliant

flash of rapid swordplay that was over ere one could catch his breath. They saw

the Black Chief step quickly back, his point upon the ground, while his opponent,

his sword slipping from his fingers, clutched his breast, sank to his knees and

then lunged forward upon his face.

And then Gahan of Gathol turned his eyes directly upon U-Dor of Manator, three

squares away. Three squares is a Chief's move--three squares in any direction or

combination of directions, only provided that he does not cross the same square

twice in a given move. The people saw and guessed Gahan's intention. They rose

and roared forth their approval as he moved deliberately across the intervening

squares toward the Orange Chief.

O-Tar, in the royal enclosure, sat frowning upon the scene. O-Tar was angry. He

was angry with U-Dor for having entered this game for possession of a slave, for

whom it had been his wish only slaves and criminals should strive. He was angry

with the warrior from Manataj for having so far out-generaled and out-fought the

men from Manator. He was angry with the populace because of their open

hostility toward one who had basked in the sunshine of his favor for long years.

O-Tar the jeddak had not enjoyed the afternoon. Those who surrounded him were

equally glum--they, too, scowled upon the field, the players, and the people.

Among them was a bent and wrinkled old man who gazed through weak and

watery eyes upon the field and the players.

As Gahan entered his square, U-Dor leaped toward him with drawn sword with

such fury as might have overborne a less skilled and powerful swordsman. For a

minute the fighting was fast and furious and by comparison reducing to

insignificance all that had gone before. Here indeed were two magnificent

swordsmen, and here was to be a battle that bade fair to make up for whatever

the people felt they had been defrauded of by the shortness of the game. Nor had

it continued long before many there were who would have prophesied that they

were witnessing a duel that was to become historic in the annals of jetan at

Manator. Every trick, every subterfuge, known to the art of fence these men

employed. Time and again each scored a point and brought blood to his

151

The Chessmen of Mars