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"And now as to your natural question as to what brings me to Earth again and in

this, to earthly eyes, strange habiliment. We may thank Kar Komak, the bowman

of Lothar. It was he who gave me the idea upon which I have been experimenting

until at last I have achieved success. As you know I have long possessed the

power to cross the void in spirit, but never before have I been able to impart to

inanimate things a similar power. Now, however, you see me for the first time

precisely as my Martian fellows see me--you see the very short-sword that has

tasted the blood of many a savage foeman; the harness with the devices of Helium

and the insignia of my rank; the pistol that was presented to me by Tars Tarkas,

Jeddak of Thark.

Aside from seeing you, which is my principal reason for being here, and

satisfying myself that I can transport inanimate things from Mars to Earth, and

therefore animate things if I so desire, I have no purpose. Earth is not for me. My

every interest is upon Barsoom--my wife, my children, my work; all are there. I

will spend a quiet evening with you and then back to the world I love even better

than I love life."

As he spoke he dropped into the chair upon the opposite side of the chess table.

"You spoke of children," I said. "Have you more than Carthoris?"

"A daughter," he replied, "only a little younger than Carthoris, and, barring one,

the fairest thing that ever breathed the thin air of dying Mars. Only Dejah Thoris,

her mother, could be more beautiful than Tara of Helium."

For a moment he fingered the chessmen idly. "We have a game on Mars similar to

chess," he said, "very similar. And there is a race there that plays it grimly with

men and naked swords. We call the game jetan. It is played on a board like yours,

except that there are a hundred squares and we use twenty pieces on each side. I

never see it played without thinking of Tara of Helium and what befell her among

the chessmen of Barsoom. Would you like to hear her story?"

I said that I would and so he told it to me, and now I shall try to re-tell it for you

as nearly in the words of The Warlord of Mars as I can recall them, but in the

third person. If there be inconsistencies and errors, let the blame fall not upon

John Carter, but rather upon my faulty memory, where it belongs. It is a strange

tale and utterly Barsoomian.

The Chessmen of Mars