At the head of the caravan rode some two hundred
warriors, five abreast, and a like number brought up the rear,
while twenty-five or thirty outriders flanked us on either side.
Every one but myself--men, women, and children--were heavily armed,
and at the tail of each chariot trotted a Martian hound, my own
beast following closely behind ours; in fact, the faithful creature
never left me voluntarily during the entire ten years I spent on
Mars. Our way led out across the little valley before the city,
through the hills, and down into the dead sea bottom which I had
traversed on my journey from the incubator to the plaza. The
incubator, as it proved, was the terminal point of our journey this
day, and, as the entire cavalcade broke into a mad gallop as soon
as we reached the level expanse of sea bottom, we were soon within
sight of our goal.
On reaching it the chariots were parked with military precision
on the four sides of the enclosure, and half a score of warriors,
headed by the enormous chieftain, and including Tars Tarkas and
several other lesser chiefs, dismounted and advanced toward it.
I could see Tars Tarkas explaining something to the principal
chieftain, whose name, by the way, was, as nearly as I can
translate it into English, Lorquas Ptomel, Jed; jed being his
title.
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