For some time neither of us spoke. Each was occupied with his
own thoughts. For my part I was wondering as to the fate of Tars
Tarkas and the girl, Thuvia.
Even if they succeeded in eluding pursuit they must eventually fall
into the hands of either red men or green, and as fugitives from
the Valley Dor they could look for but little else than a swift
and terrible death.
How I wished that I might have accompanied them. It seemed to me
that I could not fail to impress upon the intelligent red men of
Barsoom the wicked deception that a cruel and senseless superstition
had foisted upon them.
Tardos Mors would believe me. Of that I was positive. And that
he would have the courage of his convictions my knowledge of his
character assured me. Dejah Thoris would believe me. Not a doubt
as to that entered my head. Then there were a thousand of my red
and green warrior friends whom I knew would face eternal damnation
gladly for my sake. Like Tars Tarkas, where I led they would
follow.
My only danger lay in that should I ever escape the black pirates
it might be to fall into the hands of unfriendly red or green men.
Then it would mean short shrift for me.
Well, there seemed little to worry about on that score, for the
likelihood of my ever escaping the blacks was extremely remote.
The girl and I were linked together by a rope which permitted us
to move only about three or four feet from each other.
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