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smaller won reluctant consent from the other, and so they came closer and closer
to the last line of workers toiling between the enclosure from which they had
come and the hill where Gahan of Gathol lay watching, and then suddenly the
smaller figure struck its companion full in the face. Gahan, horrified, saw the
latter's head topple from its body, saw the body stagger and fall to the ground.
The man half rose from his concealment the better to view the happening in the
valley below. The creature that had felled its companion was dashing madly in
the direction of the hill upon which he was hidden, it dodged one of the workers
that sought to seize it. Gahan hoped that it would gain its liberty, why he did not
know other than at closer range it had every appearance of being a creature of his
own race. Then he saw it stumble and go down and instantly its pursuers were
upon it. Then it was that Gahan's eyes chanced to return to the figure of the
creature the fugitive had felled.
What horror was this that he was witnessing? Or were his eyes playing some
ghastly joke upon him? No, impossible though it was--it was true--the head was
moving slowly to the fallen body. It placed itself upon the shoulders, the body
rose, and the creature, seemingly as good as new, ran quickly to where its fellows
were dragging the hapless captive to its feet.
The watcher saw the creature take its prisoner by the arm and lead it back to the
enclosure, and even across the distance that separated them from him he could
note dejection and utter hopelessness in the bearing of the prisoner, and, too, he
was half convinced that it was a woman, perhaps a red Martian of his own race.
Could he be sure that this was true he must make some effort to rescue her even
though the customs of his strange world required it only in case she was of his
own country; but he was not sure; she might not be a red Martian at all, or, if she
were, it was as possible that she sprang from an enemy people as not. His first
duty was to return to his own people with as little personal risk as possible, and
though the thought of adventure stirred his blood he put the temptation aside
with a sigh and turned away from the peaceful and beautiful valley that he longed
to enter, for it was his intention to skirt its eastern edge and continue his search
for Gathol beyond.
As Gahan of Gathol turned his steps along the southern slopes of the hills that
bound Bantoom upon the south and east, his attention was attracted toward a
small cluster of trees a short distance to his right. The low sun was casting long
shadows. It would soon be night. The trees were off the path that he had chosen
and he had little mind to be diverted from his way; but as he looked again he
hesitated. There was something there besides boles of trees, and underbrush.
There were suggestions of familiar lines of the handicraft of man. Gahan stopped
and strained his eyes in the direction of the thing that had arrested his attention.
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