"
Again the black smiled that wicked, knowing smile.
"Xodar, Dator of the First Born of Barsoom, is accustomed to give
commands, not to receive them," replied the black pirate. Then,
turning to me, "What are your intentions concerning me?"
"I intend taking you both back to Helium," I said. "No harm will
come to you. You will find the red men of Helium a kindly and
magnanimous race, but if they listen to me there will be no more
voluntary pilgrimages down the river Iss, and the impossible belief
that they have cherished for ages will be shattered into a thousand
pieces."
"Are you of Helium?" he asked.
"I am a Prince of the House of Tardos Mors, Jeddak of Helium," I
replied, "but I am not of Barsoom. I am of another world."
Xodar looked at me intently for a few moments.
"I can well believe that you are not of Barsoom," he said at
length. "None of this world could have bested eight of the First
Born single-handed. But how is it that you wear the golden hair
and the jewelled circlet of a Holy Thern?" He emphasized the word
holy with a touch of irony.
"I had forgotten them," I said. "They are the spoils of conquest,"
and with a sweep of my hand I removed the disguise from my head.
When the black's eyes fell on my close-cropped black hair they
opened in astonishment. Evidently he had looked for the bald pate
of a thern.
"You are indeed of another world," he said, a touch of awe in his
voice.
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