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him one of his people looked into the eyes of Death. To the jed's hand lay the

means for succor.

There was no instant's hesitation. Casting off his deck lashings, he seized the

landing leather and slipped over the ship's side. Swinging like a bob upon a mad

pendulum he swung far out and back again, turning and twisting three thousand

feet above the surface of Barsoom, and then, at last, the thing he had hoped for

occurred. He was carried within reach of the cordage where the warrior still

clung, though with rapidly diminishing strength. Catching one leg on a loop of the

tangled strands Gahan pulled himself close enough to seize another quite near to

the fellow. Clinging precariously to this new hold the jed slowly drew in the

landing leather, down which he had clambered until he could grasp the hook at

its end. This he fastened to a ring in the warrior's harness, just before the man's

weakened fingers slipped from their hold upon the cordage.

Temporarily, at least, he had saved the life of his subject, and now he turned his

attention toward insuring his own safety. Inextricably entangled in the mess to

which he was clinging were numerous other landing hooks such as he had

attached to the warrior's harness, and with one of these he sought to secure

himself until the storm should abate sufficiently to permit him to climb to the

deck, but even as he reached for one that swung near him the ship was caught in

a renewed burst of the storm's fury, the thrashing cordage whipped and snapped

to the lunging of the great craft and one of the heavy metal hooks, lashing

through the air, struck the Jed of Gathol fair between the eyes.

Momentarily stunned, Gahan's fingers slipped from their hold upon the cordage

and the man shot downward through the thin air of dying Mars toward the

ground three thousand feet beneath, while upon the deck of the rolling Vanator

his faithful warriors clung to their lashings all unconscious of the fate of their

beloved leader; nor was it until more than an hour later, after the storm had

materially subsided, that they realized he was lost, or knew the self-sacrificing

heroism of the act that had sealed his doom. The Vanator now rested upon an

even keel as she was carried along by a strong, though steady, wind. The warriors

had cast off their deck lashings and the officers were taking account of losses and

damage when a weak cry was heard from oversides, attracting their attention to

the man hanging in the cordage beneath the keel. Strong arms hoisted him to the

deck and then it was that the crew of the Vanator learned of the heroism of their

jed and his end. How far they had traveled since his loss they could only vaguely

guess, nor could they return in search of him in the disabled condition of the

ship. It was a saddened company that drifted onward through the air toward

whatever destination Fate was to choose for them.

The Chessmen of Mars