Across the burning ochre sands they marched… then trudged… then stumbled. The pitiless sun poured down on them.
“Meesta Gull,” sobbed the girl. “It is ‘ot.”
“Courage,” he said absently, concentrating on making one foot move, and then the other. They had many miles to go. Gull’s maps had indicated a nearly direct route from the canal along the Sinus Sabaeus where the submarine was slowly beginning to rust, straight across the great hot sweep of Syrtis Major to Heliopolis. A direct route. But it was not an easy one.
Step, and step. Gull thought sardonically of the two prospectors who had come out of this desert to start all the trouble. When they entered Heliopolis it had been on a magic carpet that slid through Mars’s thin air like a knife. Nice to have one now, he thought—though exhaustive tests had shown the carpet itself to be a discontinued Sears, Roebuck model from the looms of Grand Rapids. But somehow they had made it work—
He sighed and called a halt. The girl fell exhausted to the sands.
“Meesta Gull,” she whispered. “I cannot go much farther.”
“You must,” he said simply. He fell to studying his maps, checking the line of sight to the distant hillocks that passed, on Mars, for mountains. “Right on,” he murmured with satisfaction. “See here. Seven more miles west and we’re in the Split Cliffs. Then bear left, and—”
“You are not ‘uman! I must ‘ave rest—water!”
Gull only shrugged. “Can’t be helped, my dear. But at least the sun will be behind us, now. We can do it.”
“No, no!”
“Yes,” said Gull sharply. “Good God, woman! Do you want to be caught out here after dark?” He sneezed.
“Excuse me,” he said, fumbling a Kleenex out of the packet and wiping his nose.
“Five minutes,” she begged.
Johan Gull looked at her thoughtfully, dabbing at his nose. He had not solved the mystery she presented. There was every reason to be on guard. Yet she had truly warned him of the torpedoing of the submarine, and surely she could be no threat to him out here, as piteously weakened as she was. He replaced his breathing guard and dropped the Kleenex to the ground. A moment later the empty pack followed. It had been the last.
But Gull merely scuffed sand over it with his foot and said nothing; no sense adding to her worries. He said chivalrously, “Oh, all right. And by the way, what’s your name?”
She summoned up enough reserves of strength to smile coquettishly. “Alessandra,” she murmured.
Gull grinned and nudged her with his elbow. “Under the circumstances,” he chuckled, “I think I’ll call you Sandy, eh?”
“Don’t jest, Meesta Gull! Even if we survive this trip, you ‘ave still the Black ‘Ats to face in ‘Eliopolis.”
“I’ve faced them before, my dear. Not to worry.”
“ ‘Ave you seen what they can do now? With their creatures from outer space?”
“Well, no. But I’ll think of something.”
She looked at him for a long and thoughtful minute. Then she said, “I know you will, Meesta Gull. It is love that tells me so.”
V
Step, and step. In Mars’s easy grasp a man can lift much, jump high. But to slog through desert sands is little easier than on Earth; the sliding grains underfoot rob him of strength and clutch at his stride. They were near exhaustion, Gull knew with clarity; and for the past half mile the girl had been calling to him.
Gull closed his ears to her. He kept his eyes on his own lengthening shadow before him, even when he heard her sobbing. They had no strength to spare for conversation.
“Meesta Gull,” she whispered brokenly. “Wait, please.”
He kept on grimly, head down, feet moving like pendulums.
“Meesta Gull! But I must ask you something.”
Over his shoulder he murmured, “No time for that, old girl. Keep walking.”
“But I ‘ave to know.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” he said, and waited for her to catch up. “What is it now?”
“Only this, Meesta Gull. If we are ‘eading west, why is the sun behind us?”
“Really, Sandy! I swear you have no consideration at all!”
“I am most sorry, Meesta Gull. I only asked.”
“You only asked,” he repeated bitterly. “You only asked! And now you know what I have to do? I have to stop and take out the maps and waste all kinds of time just to satisfy your damned curiosity. Of course we’re heading west!”
“I really am very sorry.”
“And the reason the sun’s behind us— Well, if you knew geometry— Look here. I’ll show you on the map.”
She fell to the ground again as he pored over the charts, frowning at the horizon, returning to his grid lines. At length his expression cleared.
“I thought so,” he said triumphantly. “Perfectly simple, my dear. Up you get.”
With rough tenderness he helped her to her feet and set off again, smiling. She did not speak at first, but presently she ventured: “Meesta Gull, we are ‘eading toward the sun now. And these seem to be our, own footprints we are retracing.”
Gull patted her good-humoredly. “Don’t worry, Sandy.”
“But, Meesta Gull—”
“Will you for God’s sake shut up?” Confounded women, thought Gull. How they did go on! And he might have said something harsh to the poor girl, except that that occurred which drove all thoughts of compass headings from both their minds.
There was a terrible thunder of many hooves.
Alessandra whimpered and clutched his arm. Gull stopped short, waiting; and over a rise in the ochre sands came a monstrous gray-green creature with six legs. It was huge as an elephant and its look was deadly; and it bore a rider, a huge, manlike, green-skinned creature with four arms, holding a murderous-looking lance.
The thoat, for such it was, skidded to a stop before them. Its monstrous rider dismounted with a single leap.
For an endless second the creature glared at them through narrowed, crimson eyes. Then it laughed with a sound of harsh and distant thunder.
“Ho!” it cried, tossing the lance away. “I won’t need this for such as you! Prepare to defend yourself, Earthling—and know that you face the mightiest warrior of the dead sea bottoms, Tars Tarkas of Thark!”
The girl cried out in terror. Johan Gull gripped her shoulder, trying to will strength and courage into her.
It was damnably bad luck, he thought, that they should somehow have taken the wrong turn. Clearly they had blundered into private property… and he had a rather good idea of just whose property they had blundered into.
He stepped forward and said, “Wait! I believe I can settle this to everybody’s satisfaction. It’s true that we don’t have tickets, Tars Tarkas, but you see, we were torpedoed in the Sinus Sabaeus and had no opportunity to pass the usual admission gate.”
“Wretched Earthling!” roared the monster. “If I issue you tickets there is a ten per cent surcharge; I don’t make Barsoomland policy, I only work here. What say you to that?”
“Done!” cried Gull, and amended it swiftly. “Provided you’ll accept my American Express card—otherwise, you see, I have the devil of a time with the old expense account.”
The creature bared yellow fangs in a great, silent laugh. But it interposed no objection, and the card was quickly validated by comparison with the Barsoomian’s built-in magnetic file. Tars Tarkas nodded his enormous head, swiftly wrote them out two lavender slips and roared: “Here you are, sir. If you wish to exchange them for regular family-plan tickets at the gate there will be a small refund… I am assuming the lady is your wife,” he twinkled. “And now, welcome to Barsoomland. Be sure to visit the Giant Sky Ride from the Twin Towers of Helium, in the base of which are several excellent restaurants where delicious sandwiches and beverages may be obtained at reasonable prices. Farewell!”