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He thought this over for a minute in his slow-witted way, but finally he said, “Why not? You look very strong; and sometimes, when the members of the guard get to quarrelling among themselves, it is well to have a strong friend. Yes, I’ll help you, if I can. Sometimes they ask us if we know a good strong warrior who is intelligent, and then they send for him and examine him. Of course you are not very intelligent, but you might be able to pass because you are so strong. Just how strong are you?”

As a matter of fact, I didn’t know, myself. I knew I was quite strong, because I lifted bodies so easily; so I said, “I really don’t know.”

“Could you lift me?” he asked. “I am a very heavy person.”

“I can try,” I said. I picked him up very easily. He didn’t seem to weigh anything; so I thought I would see if I could toss him up over my head. I succeeded quite beyond my expectations, or his either. I tossed him almost to the ceiling of the room, and caught him as he came down. As I set him on his feet, he looked at me in astonishment.

“You are the strongest person in Morbus,” he said. “There never was any one as strong as you. I shall tell the Third Jed about you.”

He went away then, leaving me quite hopeful. At best, I had anticipated that Ras Thavas might some day include me with an assignment of hormads to be examined by the jeds; but as the ranks of the bodyguards were often filled by drafts on the villages outside the city, there was no telling how long I should have to wait for such an opportunity.

Ras Thavas had detailed me as the personal servant of John Carter, so we were not separated; and as he worked constantly with Ras Thavas, the three of us were often together. In the presence of others, they treated me as they would have treated any other hormad—like a dumb and ignorant servant, but when we were alone they accepted me once more as an equal. They both marvelled at my enormous strength, which was merely one of the accidents of the growth of Tor-dur-bar’s new body; and I was sure that Ras Thavas would have liked to slice me up and return me to the vats in the hope of producing a new strain of super-powerful hormads.

John Carter is one of the most human persons I have ever known. He is in every sense of the word a great man, a statesman, a soldier, perhaps the greatest swordsman that ever lived, grim and terrible in combat; but with it all he is modest and approachable, and he has never lost his sense of humor. When we were alone he would joke with me about my newly acquired “pulchritude,” laughing in his quiet way until his sides shook; and I was, indeed, a sight to inspire both laughter and horror. My great torso on its short legs, my right arm reaching below my knees, my left but slightly below my waist line, I was all out of proportion.

“Your face is really your greatest asset,” he said, after looking at me for a long time. “I should like to take you back to Helium as you are and present you at the jeddak’s next levee. You know, of course, that you were considered one of the handsomest men in Helium. I should say, ‘Here is the noble Vor Daj, a padwar of The Warlord’s Guard,’ and how the women would cluster around you!”

My face really was something to arrest attention. Not a single feature was placed where it should have been, and all were out of proportion, some being too large and some too small. My right eye was way up on my forehead, just below the hair line, and was twice as large as my left eye which was about half an inch in front of my left ear. My mouth started at the bottom of my chin and ran upward at an angle of about 45 degrees to a point slightly below my huge right eye. My nose was scarcely more than a bud and occupied the place that my little left eye should have had. One ear was close set and tiny, the other a pendulous mass that hung almost to my shoulder. It inclined me to believe that the symmetry of normal humans might not be wholly a matter of accident, as Ras Thavas believed.

Tor-dur-bar, with his new body, had wanted a name instead of a number; so John Carter and Ras Thavas had christened him Tun-gan, a transposition of the syllables of Gantun Gur’s first name. When I told them of my conversation with Teeaytan-ov they agreed with me that I should keep the name Tor-dur-bar. Ras Thavas said he would tell Tun-gan that he had grafted a new hormad brain into his old body, and this he did at the first opportunity.

Shortly thereafter I met Tun-gan in one of the laboratory corridors. He looked at me searchingly for a moment, and then stopped me. “What is your name?” he demanded.

“Tor-dur-bar,” I replied.

He shuddered visibly. “Are you really as hideous as you appear?” he asked; and then, without waiting for me to reply, “Keep out of my sight if you don’t want to go to the incinerator or the vats.”

When I told John Carter and Ras Thavas about it, they had a good laugh. It was good to have a laugh occasionally, for there was little here that was amusing. I was worried about Janai as well as the possibility that I might never regain my former body; Ras Thavas was dejected because of the failure of his plan to regain his former laboratory in Toonol and avenge himself on Vobis Kan, the jeddak; and John Carter grieved constantly, I knew, over the fate of his princess.

While we were talking there in Ras Thavas’s private study an officer from the palace was announced; and without waiting to be invited, he entered the room. “I have come to fetch the hormad called Tor-dur-bar,” he said. “Send for him without delay.”

“This is an order from the Council of the Seven Jeds,” said the officer. He was a sullen, arrogant fellow; doubtless one of the red captives into whose skull the brain of a hormad had been grafted.

Ras Thavas shrugged and pointed at me. “This is Tor-dur-bar,” he said.

X. I Find Janai

Seven other hormads were lined up with me before the dais on which sat the seven jeds. I was, perhaps, the ugliest of them all. They asked us many questions. It was, in a way, a crude intelligence test, for they wished hormads above the average in intelligence to serve in this select body of monstrous guardsmen. I was to learn that they were becoming a little appearance conscious, also; for one of the jeds looked long at me, and then waved me aside.

“We do not want such a hideous creature in the guards,” he said.

I looked around at the other hormads in the chamber, and really couldn’t see much to choose from between them and me. They were all hideous monsters. What difference could it make that I was a little more hideous? Of course there was nothing for me to do; and, much disappointed, I stepped back from the line.

Five of the seven remaining were little better than halfwits, and they were eliminated. The other two might have been high grade morons at the best, but they were accepted. The Third Jed spoke to an officer. “Where is the hormad I sent for?” he demanded. “Tor-dur-bar.”

“I am Tor-dur-bar,” I said.

“Come here,” said the Third Jed, and again I stepped to the foot of the dais.

“One of my guardsmen says you are the strongest person in Morbus,” continued the Third Jed. “Are you?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I am very strong.”

“He says that you can toss a man to the ceiling and catch him again. Let me see you do it.”

I picked up one of the rejected hormads and threw him as high as I could. I learned then that I didn’t know my own strength. The room was quite lofty, but the creature hit the ceiling with a dull thud and fell back into my arms unconscious. The seven jeds and the others in the room looked at me with astonishment.

“He may not be beautiful,” said the Third Jed, “but I shall take him for my guard.”

The jed who had waved me aside objected. “Guardsmen must be intelligent,” he said. “This creature looks as though it had no brains at all.”