A Princess of Mars Rethroned Read Free

and
with rage. Under the clear rays of the Arizona moon lay Powell, her
body fairly bristling with the hostile arrows of the braves. That
she was already dead I could not but be convinced, and yet I would
have saved her body from mutilation at the hands of the Apaches as
quickly as I would have saved the woman herself from
death.
    Riding close to
her I reached down from the saddle, and grasping her cartridge belt
drew her up across the withers of my mount. A backward glance
convinced me that to return by the way I had come would be more
hazardous than to continue across the plateau, so, putting spurs to
my poor beast, I made a dash for the opening to the pass which I
could distinguish on the far side of the table land.
    The Indians had
by this time discovered that I was alone and I was pursued with
imprecations, arrows, and rifle balls. The fact that it is
difficult to aim anything but imprecations accurately by moonlight,
that they were upset by the sudden and unexpected manner of my
advent, and that I was a rather rapidly moving target saved me from
the various deadly projectiles of the enemy and permitted me to
reach the shadows of the surrounding peaks before an orderly
pursuit could be organized.
    My horse was
traveling practically unguided as I knew that I had probably less
knowledge of the exact location of the trail to the pass than she,
and thus it happened that she entered a defile which led to the
summit of the range and not to the pass which I had hoped would
carry me to the valley and to safety. It is probable, however, that
to this fact I owe my life and the remarkable experiences and
adventures which befell me during the following ten
years.
    My first
knowledge that I was on the wrong trail came when I heard the yells
of the pursuing savages suddenly grow fainter and fainter far off
to my left.
    I knew then that
they had passed to the left of the jagged rock formation at the
edge of the plateau, to the right of which my horse had borne me
and the body of Powell.
    I drew rein on a
little level promontory overlooking the trail below and to my left,
and saw the party of pursuing savages disappearing around the point
of a neighboring peak.
    I knew the
Indians would soon discover that they were on the wrong trail and
that the search for me would be renewed in the right direction as
soon as they located my tracks.
    I had gone but a
short distance further when what seemed to be an excellent trail
opened up around the face of a high cliff. The trail was level and
quite broad and led upward and in the general direction I wished to
go. The cliff arose for several hundred feet on my right, and on my
left was an equal and nearly perpendicular drop to the bottom of a
rocky ravine.
    I had followed
this trail for perhaps a hundred yards when a sharp turn to the
right brought me to the mouth of a large cave. The opening was
about four feet in height and three to four feet wide, and at this
opening the trail ended.
    It was now
morning, and, with the customary lack of dawn which is a startling
characteristic of Arizona, it had become daylight almost without
warning.
    Dismounting, I
laid Powell upon the ground, but the most painstaking examination
failed to reveal the faintest spark of life. I forced water from my
canteen between her dead lips, bathed her face and rubbed her
hands, working over her continuously for the better part of an hour
in the face of the fact that I knew her to be dead.
    I was very fond
of Powell; she was thoroughly a woman in every respect; a polished
southern gentlewoman; a staunch and true friend; and it was with a
feeling of the deepest grief that I finally gave up my crude
endeavors at resuscitation.
    Leaving Powell's
body where it lay on the ledge I crept into the cave to
reconnoiter. I found a large chamber, possibly a hundred feet in
diameter and thirty or forty feet in height; a smooth and well-worn
floor, and many other evidences that the cave had, at some remote
period, been inhabited. The back of