s, returned from the Valley Dor, back through
the mysterious River Iss, and the legend has it that he narrated a
fearful blasphemy of horrid brutes that inhabited a valley of wondrous
loveliness, brutes that pounced upon each Barsoomian as he terminated
his pilgrimage and devoured him upon the banks of the Lost Sea where he
had looked to find love and peace and happiness; but the ancients
killed the blasphemer, as tradition has ordained that any shall be
killed who return from the bosom of the River of Mystery.

"But now we know that it was no blasphemy, that the legend is a true
one, and that the man told only of what he saw; but what does it profit
us, John Carter, since even should we escape, we also would be treated
as blasphemers? We are between the wild thoat of certainty and the mad
zitidar of fact--we can escape neither."

"As Earth men say, we are between the devil and the deep sea, Tars
Tarkas," I replied, nor could I help but smile at our dilemma.

"There is naught that we can do but take things as they come, and at
least have the satisfaction of knowing that whoever slays us eventually
will have far greater numbers of their own dead to count than they will
get in return. White ape or plant man, green Barsoomian or red man,
whosoever it shall be that takes the last toll from us will know that
it is costly in lives to wipe out John Carter, Prince of the House of
Tardos Mors, and Tars Tarkas, Jeddak of Thark, at the same time."

I could not help but laugh at him grim humour, and he joined in with me
in one of those rare laughs of real enjoyment which was one of the
attributes of this fierce Tharkian chief which marked him from the
others of his kind.

"But about yourself, John Carter," he cried at last. "If you have not
been here all these years where indeed have you been, and how is it
that I find you here to-day?"

"I have been back to Earth," I replied. "For ten long Earth years I
have been praying and hoping for the day that would carry me once more
to this grim old planet of yours, for which, with all its cruel and
terrible customs, I feel a bond of sympathy and love even greater than
for the world that gave me birth.

"For ten years have I been enduring a living death of uncertainty and
doubt as to whether Dejah Thoris lived, and now that for the first time
in all these years my prayers have been answered and my doubt relieved
I find myself, through a cruel whim of fate, hurled into the one tin