day as I sit at my desk in the little study overlooking the Hudson.
Twenty years have intervened; for ten of them I lived and fought for
Dejah Thoris and her people, and for ten I have lived upon her memory.

The morning of our departure for Thark dawned clear and hot, as do all
Martian mornings except for the six weeks when the snow melts at the
poles.

I sought out Dejah Thoris in the throng of departing chariots, but she
turned her shoulder to me, and I could see the red blood mount to her
cheek. With the foolish inconsistency of love I held my peace when I
might have plead ignorance of the nature of my offense, or at least the
gravity of it, and so have effected, at worst, a half conciliation.

[Illustration: I sought out Dejah Thoris in the throng of departing
chariots.]

My duty dictated that I must see that she was comfortable, and so I
glanced into her chariot and rearranged her silks and furs. In doing
so I noted with horror that she was heavily chained by one ankle to the
side of the vehicle.

"What does this mean?" I cried, turning to Sola.

"Sarkoja thought it best," she answered, her face betokening her
disapproval of the procedure.

Examining the manacles I saw that they fastened with a massive spring
lock.

"Where is the key, Sola? Let me have it."

"Sarkoja wears it, John Carter," she answered.

I turned without further word and sought out Tars Tarkas, to whom I
vehemently objected to the unnecessary humiliations and cruelties, as
they seemed to my lover's eyes, that were being heaped upon Dejah
Thoris.

"John Carter," he answered, "if ever you and Dejah Thoris escape the
Tharks it will be upon this journey. We know that you will not go
without her. You have shown yourself a mighty fighter, and we do not
wish to manacle you, so we hold you both in the easiest way that will
yet ensure security. I have spoken."

I saw the strength of his reasoning at a flash, and knew that it were
futile to appeal from his decision, but I asked that the key be taken
from Sarkoja and that she be directed to leave the prisoner alone in
future.

"This much, Tars Tarkas, you may do for me in return for the friendship
that, I must confess, I feel for you."

"Friendship?" he replied. "There is no such thing, John Carter; but
have your will. I shall direct that Sarkoja cease to annoy the girl,
and I myself will take the custody of the key."

"Unless you wish me to assume the responsibility," I said, sm