But now the duel between Gahan and the Orange Panthan was on and the decision of the next move was no longer in other hands than theirs.It was the first time that these Mana-Atorians had seen Gahan of Gathol fight, but Tara of Helium knew that he was master of his sword.Could he have seen the proud light in her eyes as he crossed blades with the wearer of the Orange, he might easily have wondered if they were the same eyes that had flashed fire and hatred at him that time he had covered her lips with mad kisses, in the pits of the palace of O-Tar.As she watched him she could not but compare his swordplay with that of the greatest swordsman of two worlds--her father, John Carter, of Virginia, a, Prince of Helium, Warlord of Barsoom--and she knew that the skill of the Black Chief suffered little by the comparison.
Short and to the point was the duel that decided possession of the Orange Chief's fourth.The spectators had settled themselves for an interesting engagement of at least average duration when they were brought almost standing by a brilliant flash of rapid swordplay that was over ere one could catch his breath.They saw the Black Chief step quickly back, his point upon the ground, while his opponent, his sword slipping from his fingers, clutched his breast, sank to his knees and then lunged forward upon his face.
And then Gahan of Gathol turned his eyes directly upon U-Dor of Manator, three squares away.Three squares is a Chief's move--three squares in any direction or combination of directions, only provided that he does not cross the same square twice in a given move.The people saw and guessed Gahan's intention.They rose and roared forth their approval as he moved deliberately across the intervening squares toward the Orange Chief.
O-Tar, in the royal enclosure, sat frowning upon the scene.O-Tar was angry.He was angry with U-Dor for having entered this game for possession of a slave, for whom it had been his wish only slaves and criminals should strive.He was angry with the warrior from Manataj for having so far out-generaled and out-fought the men from Manator.He was angry with the populace because of their open hostility toward one who had basked in the sunshine of his favor for long years.O-Tar the jeddak had not enjoyed the afternoon.Those who surrounded him were equally glum--they, too, scowled upon the field, the players, and the people.Among them was a bent and wrinkled old man who gazed through weak and watery eyes upon the field and the players.
As Gahan entered his square, U-Dor leaped toward him with drawn sword with such fury as might have overborne a less skilled and powerful swordsman.For a minute the fighting was fast and furious and by comparison reducing to insignificance all that had gone before.Here indeed were two magnificent swordsmen, and here was to be a battle that bade fair to make up for whatever the people felt they had been defrauded of by the shortness of the game.Nor had it continued long before many there were who would have prophesied that they were witnessing a duel that was to become historic in the annals of jetan at Manator.Every trick, every subterfuge, known to the art of fence these men employed.
Time and again each scored a point and brought blood to his opponent's copper hide until both were red with gore; but neither seemed able to administer the coup de grace.
From her position upon the opposite side of the field Tara of Helium watched the long-drawn battle.Always it seemed to her that the Black Chief fought upon the defensive, or when he assumed to push his opponent, he neglected a thousand openings that her practiced eye beheld.Never did he seem in real danger, nor never did he appear to exert himself to quite the pitch needful for victory.The duel already had been long contested and the day was drawing to a close.Presently the sudden transition from daylight to darkness which, owing to the tenuity of the air upon Barsoom, occurs almost without the warning twilight of Earth, would occur.Would the fight never end? Would the game be called a draw after all? What ailed the Black Chief?
Tara wished that she might answer at least the last of these questions for she was sure that Turan the panthan, as she knew him, while fighting brilliantly, was not giving of himself all that he might.She could not believe that fear was restraining his hand, but that there was something beside inability to push U-Dor more fiercely she was confident.What it was, however, she could not guess.
Once she saw Gahan glance quickly up toward the sinking sun.In thirty minutes it would be dark.And then she saw and all those others saw a strange transition steal over the swordplay of the Black Chief.It was as though he had been playing with the great dwar, U-Dor, all these hours, and now he still played with him but there was a difference.He played with him terribly as a carnivore plays with its victim in the instant before the kill.
The Orange Chief was helpless now in the hands of a swordsman so superior that there could be no comparison, and the people sat in open-mouthed wonder and awe as Gahan of Gathol cut his foe to ribbons and then struck him down with a blow that cleft him to the chin.
In twenty minutes the sun would set.But what of that?
