THE CHESSMEN OF MARS
by Edgar Rice Burroughs
CONTENTS
PRELUDE - John Carter Comes to Earth
I Tara in a Tantrum
II At the Gale's Mercy
III The Headless Humans
IV Captured
V The Perfect Brain
VI In the Toils of Horror
VII A Repellent Sight
VIII Close Work
IX Adrift Over Strange Regions
X Entrapped
XI The Choice of Tara
XII Ghek Plays Pranks
XIII A Desperate Deed
XIV At Ghek's Command
XV The Old Man of the Pits
XVI Another Change of Name
XVII A Play to the Death
XVIII A Task for Loyalty
XIX The Menace of the Dead
XX The Charge of Cowardice
XXI A Risk for Love
XXII At the Moment of Marriage
THE CHESSMEN OF MARS
PRELUDE
JOHN CARTER COMES TO EARTH
Shea had just beaten me at chess, as usual, and, also as usual, I had
gleaned what questionable satisfaction I might by twitting him with
this indication of failing mentality by calling his attention for the
_n_th time to that theory, propounded by certain scientists, which is
based upon the assertion that phenomenal chess players are always found
to be from the ranks of children under twelve, adults over seventy-two
or the mentally defective--a theory that is lightly ignored upon those
rare occasions that I win. Shea had gone to bed and I should have
followed suit, for we are always in the saddle here before sunrise; but
instead I sat there before the chess table in the library, idly blowing
smoke at the dishonored head of my defeated king.
While thus profitably employed I heard the east door of the living-room
open and someone enter. I thought it was Shea returning to speak with
me on some matter of tomorrow's work; but when I raised my eyes to the
doorway that connects the two rooms I saw framed there the figure of a
bronzed giant, his otherwise naked body trapped with a jewel-encrusted
harness from which there hung at one side an ornate short-sword and at
the other a pistol of strange pattern. The black hair, the steel-gray
eyes, brave and smiling, the noble features--I recognized them at once,
and leaping to my feet I advanced with outstretched hand.
"John Carter!" I cried. "You?"
"None other, my son," he replied, taking my hand in one of his and
placing the other upon my shoulder.
"And what are you doing here?" I asked. "It has been long years since
you revisited Earth, and never before in the trappings of Mars. Lord!
but it is good to see you--and not a day older in appearance than when
you trotted me on your knee in my babyhood. How do you explain it, John
Carter, Warlord of Mars, or do you try to explain it?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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