In this apartment a dozen red slaves were employed polishing or
repairing the weapons of the yellow men. The walls of the room
were lined with racks in which were hundreds of straight and hooked
swords, javelins, and daggers. It was evidently an armory. There
were but three warriors guarding the workers.
My eyes took in the entire scene at a glance. Here were weapons
in plenty! Here were sinewy red warriors to wield them!
And here now was John Carter, Prince of Helium, in need both of
weapons and warriors!
As I stepped into the apartment, guards and prisoners saw me
simultaneously.
Close to the entrance where I stood was a rack of straight swords,
and as my hand closed upon the hilt of one of them my eyes fell
upon the faces of two of the prisoners who worked side by side.
One of the guards started toward me. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"What do you here?"
"I come for Tardos Mors, Jeddak of Helium, and his son, Mors Kajak,"
I cried, pointing to the two red prisoners, who had now sprung to
their feet, wide-eyed in astonished recognition.
"Rise, red men! Before we die let us leave a memorial in the palace
of Okar's tyrant that will stand forever in the annals of Kadabra
to the honor and glory of Helium," for I had seen that all the
prisoners there were men of Tardos Mors's navy.
Then the first guardsman was upon me and the fight was on, but
scarce did we engage ere, to my horror, I saw that the red slaves
were shackled to the floor.
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