Edgar Rice Burroughs - Moon 1 - Moon Maid

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The Moon Maid

Edgar Rice Burroughs

Table of Contents

The Moon Maid...................................................................................................................................................1

Edgar Rice Burroughs..............................................................................................................................1

PROLOGUE............................................................................................................................................1

Chapter I. AN ADVENTURE IN SPACE...............................................................................................4

Chapter II. THE SECRET OF THE MOON.........................................................................................11

Chapter III. ANIMALS OR MEN?.......................................................................................................17

Chapter IV. CAPTURED.......................................................................................................................23

Chapter V. OUT OF THE STORM.......................................................................................................28

Chapter VI. THE MOON MAID...........................................................................................................34

Chapter VII. A FIGHT AND A CHANCE............................................................................................40

Chapter VIII. A FIGHT WITH A TORCH...........................................................................................45

Chapter IX. AN ATTACK BY KALKARS..........................................................................................52

Chapter X. THE CITY OF KALKARS.................................................................................................57

Chapter XI. A MEETING WITH KO−TAH.........................................................................................64

Chapter XII. GROWING DANGER.....................................................................................................69

Chapter XIII. DEATH WITHIN AND WITHOUT!.............................................................................76

Chapter XIV. THE BARSOOM!...........................................................................................................83

The Moon Maid

Edgar Rice Burroughs

http://www.blackmask.com

PROLOGUE• Chapter I. AN ADVENTURE IN SPACE• Chapter II. THE SECRET OF THE MOON• Chapter III. ANIMALS OR MEN?• Chapter IV. CAPTURED• Chapter V. OUT OF THE STORM• Chapter VI. THE MOON MAID• Chapter VII. A FIGHT AND A CHANCE• Chapter VIII. A FIGHT WITH A TORCH• Chapter IX. AN ATTACK BY KALKARS• Chapter X. THE CITY OF KALKARS• Chapter XI. A MEETING WITH KO−TAH• Chapter XII. GROWING DANGER• Chapter XIII. DEATH WITHIN AND WITHOUT!• Chapter XIV. THE BARSOOM!•

PROLOGUE

I MET HIM in the Blue Room of the Transoceanic Liner Harding the night of Mars Day−June 10, 1967. I had

been wandering about the city for several hours prior to the sailing of the flier watching the celebration,

dropping in at various places that I might see as much as possible of scenes that doubtless will never again be

paralleled— a world gone mad with joy. There was only one vacant chair in the Blue Room and that at a small

table at which he was already seated alone. I asked his permission and he graciously invited me to join him,

rising as he did so, his face lighting with a smile that compelled my liking from the first.

I had thought that Victory Day, which we had celebrated two months before, could never be eclipsed in point

of mad national enthusiasm, but the announcement that had been made this day appeared to have had even a

greater effect upon the minds and imaginations of the people.

The more than half−century of war that had continued almost uninterruptedly since 1914 had at last

terminated in the absolute domination of the Anglo−Saxon race over all the other races of the World, and

practically for the first time since the activities of the human race were preserved for posterity in any enduring

form no civilized, or even semi−civilized, nation maintained a battle line upon any portion of the globe. War

was at an end−definitely and forever. Arms and ammunition were being dumped into the five oceans; the vast

armadas of the air were being scrapped or converted into carriers for purposes of peace and commerce.

The peoples of all nations had celebrated—victors and vanquished alike—for they were tired of war. At least

they thought that they were tired of war; but were they, What else did they know? Only the oldest of men

could recall even a semblance of world peace, the others knew nothing but war. Men had been born and lived

their lives and died with their grandchildren clustered about them—all with the alarms of war ringing

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constantly in their ears. Perchance the little area of their activities was never actually encroached upon by the

iron−shod hoof of battle; but always somewhere war endured, now receding like the salt tide only to return

again; until there arose that great tidal wave of human emotion in 1959 that swept the entire world for eight

bloody years, and receding, left peace upon a spent and devastated world.

Two months had passed—two months during which the world appeared to stand still, to mark time, to hold its

breath. What now? We have peace, but what shall we do with it? The leaders of thought and of action are

trained for but one condition—war. The reaction brought despondency—our nerves, accustomed to the

constant stimulus of excitement, cried out against the monotony of peace, and yet no one wanted war again.

We did not know what we wanted.

And then came the announcement that I think saved a world from madness, for it directed our minds along a

new line to the contemplation of a fact far more engrossing than prosaic wars and equally as stimulating to the

imagination and the nerves—intelligible communication had at last been established with Mars!

Generations of wars had done their part to stimulate scientific research to the end that we might kill one

another more expeditiously, that we might transport our youth more quickly to their shallow graves in alien

soil, that we might transmit more secretly and with greater celerity our orders to slay our fellow men. And

always, generation after generation, there had been those few who could detach their minds from the

contemplation of massacre and looking forward to a happier era concentrate their talents and their energies

upon the utilization of scientific achievement for the betterment of mankind and the rebuilding of civilization.

Among these was that much ridiculed but devoted coterie who had clung tenaciously to the idea that

communication could be established with Mars. The hope that had been growing for a hundred years had

never been permitted to die, but had been transmitted from teacher to pupil with ever−growing enthusiasm,

while the people scoffed as, a hundred years before, we are told, they scoffed at the experimenters with flying

machines, as they chose to call them.

About 1940 had come the first reward of long years of toil and hope, following the perfection of an instrument

which accurately indicated the direction and distance of the focus of any radio−activity with which it might be

attuned. For several years prior to this all the more highly sensitive receiving instruments had recorded a

series of three dots and three dashes which began at precise intervals of twenty−four hours and thirty−seven

minutes and continued for approximately fifteen minutes. The new instrument indicated conclusively that

these signals, if they were signals, originated always at the same distance from the Earth and in the same

direction as the point in the universe occupied by the planet Mars.

It was five years later before a sending apparatus was evolved that bade fair to transmit its waves from Earth

to Mars. At first their own message was repeated—three dots and three dashes. Although the usual interval of

time had not elapsed since we had received their daily signal, ours was immediately answered. Then we sent a

message consisting of five dots and two dashes, alternating. Immediately they replied with five dots and two

dashes and we knew beyond peradventure of a doubt that we were in communication with the Red Planet, but

it required twenty−two years of unremitting effort, with the most brilliant intellects of two worlds concentrated

upon it, to evolve and perfect an intelligent system of inter−communication between the two planets.

Today, this tenth of June, 1967, there was published broadcast to the world the first message from Mars. It

was dated Helium, Barsoom, and merely extended greetings to a sister world and wished us well. But it was

the beginning.

The Blue Room of The Harding was, I presume, but typical of every other gathering place in the civilized

world. Men and women were eating, drinking, laughing, singing and talking. The flier was racing through the

air at an altitude of little over a thousand feet. Its engines, motivated wirelessly from power plants thousands

The Moon Maid

The Moon Maid 2

of miles distant, drove it noiselessly and swiftly along its overnight pathway between Chicago and Paris.

I had of course crossed many times, but this instance was unique because of the epoch−making occasion

which the passengers were celebrating, and so I sat at the table longer than usual, watching my fellow diners,

with, I imagine, a slightly indulgent smile upon my lips since—I mention it in no spirit of egotism—it had

been my high privilege to assist in the consummation of a hundred years of effort that had borne fruit that day.

I looked around at my fellow diners and then back to my table companion.

He was a fine looking chap, lean and bronzed—one need not have noted the Air Corps overseas service

uniform, the Admiral's stars and anchors or the wound stripes to have guessed that he was a fighting man; he

looked it, every inch of him, and there were a full seventy−two inches.

We talked a little—about the great victory and the message from Mars, of course, and though he often smiled

I noticed an occasional shadow of sadness in his eyes and once, after a particularly mad outburst of

pandemonium on the part of the celebrators, he shook his head, remarking: “Poor devils!” and then: 'It is just

as well—let them enjoy life while they may. I envy them their ignorance.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

He flushed a little and then smiled. “Was I speaking aloud?” he asked.

I repeated what he had said and he looked steadily at me for a long minute before he spoke again. “Oh, what's

the use!” he exclaimed, almost petulantly; “you wouldn't understand and of course you wouldn't believe. I do

not understand it myself; but I have to believe because I know—I know from personal observation. God! if

you could have seen what I have seen.”

“Tell me,” I begged; but he shook his head dubiously.

“Do you realize that there is no such thing as Time?” he asked suddenly—“That man has invented Time to

suit the limitations of his finite mind, just as he has named another thing, that he can neither explain nor

understand, Space?”

“I have heard of such a theory,” I replied; “but I neither believe nor disbelieve—I simply do not know.”

I thought I had him started and so I waited as I have read in fiction stories is the proper way to entice a strange

narrative from its possessor. He was looking beyond me and I imagined that the expression of his eyes

denoted that he was witnessing again the thrilling scenes of the past. I must have been wrong, though—in fact

I was quite sure of it when he next spoke.

“If that girl isn't careful,” he said, “the thing will upset and give her a nasty fall—she is much too near the

edge.”

I turned to see a richly dressed and much disheveled young lady busily dancing on a table−top while her

friends and the surrounding diners cheered her lustily.

My companion arose. “I have enjoyed your company immensely,” he said, “and I hope to meet you again. I

am going to look for a place to sleep now—they could not give me a stateroom−I don't seem to be able to get

enough sleep since they sent me back.” He smiled.

“Miss the gas shells and radio bombs, I suppose/ I remarked.

The Moon Maid

The Moon Maid 3

“Yes,” he replied, “just as a convalescent misses smallpox.”

“I have a room with two beds,” I said. “At the last minute my secretary was taken ill. I'll be glad to have you

share the room with me.”

He thanked me and accepted my hospitality for the night—the following morning we would be in Paris.

As we wound our way among the tables filled with laughing, joyous diners, my companion paused beside that

at which sat the young woman who had previously attracted his attention. Their eyes met and into hers came a

look of puzzlement and half−recognition. He smiled frankly in her face, nodded and passed on. “You know

her, then?” I asked.

“I shall—in two hundred years,” was his enigmatical reply.

We found my room, and there we had a bottle of wine and some little cakes and a quiet smoke and became

much better acquainted.

It was he who first reverted to the subject of our conversation in the Blue Room.

“I am going to tell you,” he said, “what I have never told another; but on the condition that if you retell it you

are not to use my name. I have several years of this Life ahead of me and I do not care to be pointed out as a

lunatic. First let me say that I do not try to explain anything,' except that I do not believe prevision to be a

proper explanation. I have actually lived the experiences I shall tell you of, and that girl we saw dancing on

the table tonight lived them with me; but she does not know it. If you care to, you can keep in mind the theory

that there is no such thing as Time—just keep it in mind—you cannot understand it, or at least I cannot. Here

goes.”

Chapter I. AN ADVENTURE IN SPACE

I had intended telling you my story of the days of the twenty−second century, but it seems best, if you are to

understand it, to tell first the story of my great−great−grandfather who was born in the year 2000.”

I must have looked up at him quizzically, for he smiled and shook his head as one who is puzzled to find an

explanation suited to the mental capacity of his auditor.

“My great−great−grandfather was, in reality, the great−great−grandson of my previous incarnation which

commenced in 1896. I married in 1916, at the age of twenty. My son Julian was born in 1917. I never saw

him. I was killed in France in 1918—on Armistice Day.

“I was again reincarnated in my son's son in 1937. I am thirty years of age. My son was born in 1970—that is

the son of my 1937 incarnation—and his son, Julian 5th, in whom I again returned to Earth, in the year 2000. I

see you are confused, but please remember my injunction that you are to try to keep in mind the theory that

there is no such thing as Time. It is now the year 1967 yet I recall distinctly every event of my life that

occurred in four incarnations—the last that I recall being that which had its origin in the year 2100. Whether I

actually skipped three generations that time or through some caprice of Fate I am merely unable to visualize

an intervening incarnation, I do not know.

“My theory of the matter is that I differ only from my fellows in that I can recall the events of many

incarnations, while they can recall none of theirs other than a few important episodes of that particular one

they are experiencing; but perhaps I am wrong. It is of no importance. I will tell you the story of Julian 5th

who was born in the year 2000, and then, if we have time and you yet are interested, I will tell you of the

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Chapter I. AN ADVENTURE IN SPACE 4

torments during the harrowing days of the twenty−second century, following the birth of Julian 9th in 2100.”

I will try to tell the story in his own words in so far as I can recall them, but for various reasons, not the least

of which is that I am lazy, I shall omit superfluous quotation marks—that is, with your permission, of course.

My name is Julian. I am called Julian 5th. I come of an illustrious family—my great−great−grandfather, Julian

1st, a major at twenty−two, was killed in France early in The Great War. My great−grandfather, Julian 2nd,

was killed in battle in Turkey in 1938. My grandfather, Julian 3rd, fought continuously from his sixteenth year

until peace was declared in his thirtieth year. He died in 1992 and during the last twenty−five years of his life

was an Admiral of the Air, being transferred at the close of the war to command of the International Peace

Fleet, which patrolled and policed the world. He also was killed in line of duty, as was my father who

succeeded him in the service.

At sixteen I graduated from the Air School and was detailed to the International Peace Fleet, being the fifth

generation of my line to wear the uniform of my country. That was in 2016, and I recall that it was a matter of

pride to me that it rounded out the full century since Julian 1st graduated from West Point, and that during that

one hundred years no adult male of my line had ever owned or worn civilian clothes.

Of course there were no more wars, but there still was fighting. We had the pirates of the air to contend with

and occasionally some of the uncivilized tribes of Russia, Africa and central Asia required the attention of a

punitive expedition. However, life seemed tame and monotonous to us when we read of the heroic deeds of

our ancestors from 1914 to 1967, yet none of us wanted war. It had been too well schooled into us that we

must not think of war, and the International Peace Fleet so effectively prevented all preparation for war that

we all knew there could never be another. There wasn't a firearm in the world other than those with which we

were armed, and a few of ancient design that were kept as heirlooms, or in museums, or that were owned by

savage tribes who could procure no ammunition for them, since we permitted none to be manufactured. There

was not a gas shell nor a radio bomb, nor any engine to discharge or project one; and there wasn't a big gun of

any calibre in the world. I veritably believed that a thousand men equipped with the various engines of

destruction that had reached their highest efficiency at the close of the war in 1967 could have conquered the

world; but there were not a thousand men so armed—there never could be a thousand men so equipped

anywhere upon the face of the Earth. The International Peace Fleet was equipped and manned to prevent just

such a calamity.

But it seems that Providence never intended that the world should be without calamities. If man prevented

those of possible internal origin there still remained undreamed of external sources over which he had no

control. It was one of these which was to prove our undoing. Its seed was sown thirty−three years before I was

born, upon that historic day, June 10th, 1967, that Earth received her first message from Mars, since which the

two planets have remained in constant friendly communication, carrying on a commerce of reciprocal

enlightenment. In some branches of the arts and sciences the Martians, or Barsoomians, as they call

themselves, were far in advance of us, while in others we had progressed more rapidly than they. Knowledge

was thus freely exchanged to the advantage of both worlds. We learned of their history and customs and they

or ours, though they had for ages already known much more of us than we of them. Martian news held always

a prominent place in our daily papers from the first.

They helped us most, perhaps, in the fields of medicine and aeronautics, giving us in one, the marvelous

healing locations of Barsoom and in the other, knowledge of the Eighth Bay, which is more generally known

on Earth as the Barsoomian Ray, which is now stored in the buoyancy tanks of every air craft and has made

obsolete those ancient types of plane that depended upon momentum to keep them afloat.

That we ever were able to communicate intelligibly with them is due to the presence upon Mars of that

deathless Virginian, John Carter, whose miraculous transportation to Mars occurred March 4th, 1866, as every

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Chapter I. AN ADVENTURE IN SPACE 5

school child of the twenty−first century knows. Had not the little band of Martian scientists, who sought so

long to communicate with Earth, mistakenly formed themselves into a secret organization for political

purposes, messages might have been exchanged between the two planets nearly half a century before they

were, and it was not until they finally called upon John Carter that the present inter−planetary code was

evolved.

Almost from the first the subject which engrossed us all the most was the possibility of an actual exchange of

visits between Earth Men and Barsoomians. Each planet hoped to be the first to achieve this, yet neither

withheld any information that would aid the other in the consummation of the great fact. It was a generous and

friendly rivalry which about the time of my graduation from the Air School seemed, in theory at least, to be

almost ripe for successful consummation by one or the other. We had the Eighth Ray, the motors, the

oxygenating devices, the insulating processes—everything to insure the safe and certain transit of a specially

designed air craft to Mars, were Mars the only other inhabitant of space. But it was not and it was the other

planets and the Sun that we feared.

In 2015 Mars had dispatched a ship for Earth with a crew of five men provisioned for ten years. It was hoped

that with good luck the trip might be made in something less than five years, as the craft had developed an

actual trial speed of one thousand miles per hour. At the time of my graduation the ship was already off its

course almost a million miles and generally conceded to be hopelessly lost. Its crew, maintaining constant

radio communication with both Earth and Mars, still hoped for success, but the best informed upon both

worlds had given them up.

We had had a ship about ready at the time of the sailing of the Martians, but the government at Washington

had forbidden the venture when it became apparent that the Barsoomian ship was doomed—a wise decision,

since our vessel was no better equipped than theirs. Nearly ten years elapsed before anything further was

accomplished in the direction of assuring any greater hope of success for another interplanetary venture into

space, and this was directly due to the discovery made by a former classmate of mine, Lieutenant Commander

Orthis, one of the most brilliant men I have ever known, and at the same time one of the most unscrupulous,

and, to me at least, the most obnoxious.

We had entered the Air School together—he from New York and I from Illinois—and almost from the first

day we had seemed to discover a mutual antagonism that, upon his part at least, must have been considerably

strengthened by numerous unfortunate occurrences during our four years beneath the same roof. In the first

place he was not popular with either the cadets, the instructors, or the officers of the school, while I was most

fortunate in this respect. In those various fields of athletics in which he considered himself particularly expert,

it was always I, unfortunately, who excelled him and kept him from major honors. In the class room he

outshone us all—even the instructors were amazed at the brilliancy of his intellect—and yet as we passed

from grade to grade I often topped him in the final examinations. I ranked him always as a cadet officer, and

upon graduation I took a higher grade among the new ensigns than he—a rank that had many years before

been discontinued, but which had recently been revived.

From then on I saw little of him, his services confining him principally to land service, while mine kept me

almost constantly on the air in all parts of the world. Occasionally I heard of him—usually something

unsavory; he had married a nice girl and abandoned her —there had been talk of an investigation of his

accounts —and the last that there was a rumor that he was affiliated with a secret order that sought to

overthrow the government. Some things I might believe of Orthis, but not this.

And during these nine years since graduation, as we had drifted apart in interests, so had the breach between

us been widened by constantly increasing difference in rank. He was a Lieutenant Commander and I a

Captain, when in 2024 he announced the discovery and isolation of the Eighth Solar Ray, and within two

months those of the Moon, Mercury, Venus and Jupiter. The Eighth Barsoomian and the Eighth Earthly Rays

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Chapter I. AN ADVENTURE IN SPACE 6

had already been isolated, and upon Earth the latter erroneously called by the name of the former.

Orthis' discoveries were hailed upon two planets as the key to actual travel between the Earth and Barsoom,

since by means of these several rays the attraction of the Sun and the planets, with the exception of Saturn,

Uranus and Neptune, could be definitely overcome and a ship steer a direct and unimpeded course through

space to Mars. The effect of the pull of the three farther planets was considered negligible, owing to their

great distance from both Mars and Earth.

Orthis wanted to equip a ship and start at once, but again government intervened and forbade what it

considered an unnecessary risk. Instead Orthis was ordered to design a small radio operated flier, which would

carry no one aboard, and which it was believed could be automatically operated for at least half the distance

between the two planets. After his designs were completed, you may imagine his chagrin, and mine as well,

when I was detailed to supervise construction, yet I will say that Orthis hid his natural emotions well and gave

me perfect cooperation in the work we were compelled to undertake together, and which was as distasteful to

me as to him. On my part I made it as easy for him as I could, working with him rather than over him.

It required but a short time to complete the experimental ship and during this time I had an opportunity to get

a still better insight into the marvelous, intellectual ability of Orthis, though I never saw into his mind or heart.

It was late in 2024 that the ship was launched upon its strange voyage, and almost immediately, upon my

recommendation, work was started upon the perfection of the larger ship that had been in course of

construction in 2015 at the time that the loss of the Martian ship had discouraged our government in making

any further attempt until the then seemingly insurmountable obstacles should have been overcome. Orthis was

again my assistant, and with the means at our disposal it was a matter of less than eight months before The

Barsoom, as she was christened, was completely overhauled and thoroughly equipped for the interplanetary

voyage. The various eighth rays that would assist us in overcoming the pull of the Sun, Mercury, Venus,

Earth, Mars and Jupiter were stored in carefully constructed and well protected tanks within the hull, and there

was a smaller tank at the bow containing the Eighth Lunar Ray, which would permit us to pass safely within

the zone of the moon's influence without danger of being attracted to her barren surface.

Messages from the original Martian ship had been received from time to time and with diminishing strength

for nearly five years after it had left Mars. Its commander in his heroic fight against the pull of the sun had

managed to fall within the grip of Jupiter and was, when last heard from far out in the great void between that

planet and Mars. During the past four years the fate of the ship could be naught but conjecture—all that we

could be certain of was that its unfortunate crew would never again return to Barsoom.

Our own experimental ship had been speeding upon its lonely way now for eight months, and so accurate had

Orthis' scientific deductions proven that the most delicate instrument could detect no slightest deviation from

its prescribed course. It was then that Orthis began to importune the government to permit him to set out with

the new craft that was now completed. The authorities held out, however, until the latter part of 2025 when,

the experimental ship having been out a year and still showing no deviation from its course, they felt

reasonably assured that the success of the venture was certain and that no useless risk of human life would be

involved.

The Barsoom

required five men properly to handle it, and as had been the custom through many centuries when an

undertaking of more than usual risk was to be attempted, volunteers were called for, with the result that fully

half the personnel of the International Peace Fleet begged to be permitted to form the crew of five. The

government finally selected their men from the great number of volunteers, with the result that once more was

the innocent cause of disappointment and chagrin to Orthis, as I was placed in command, with Orthis, two

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Chapter I. AN ADVENTURE IN SPACE 7

lieutenants and an ensign completing the roster.

The Barsoom

was larger than the craft dispatched by the Martians, with the result that we were able to carry supplies for

fifteen years. We were equipped with more powerful motors which would permit us to maintain an average

speed of over twelve hundred miles an hour, carrying in addition an engine recently developed by Orthis

which generated sufficient power from light to propel the craft at half−speed in the event that our other engine

should break down. None of us was married. Orthis' abandoned wife having recently died. Our estates were

taken under trusteeship by the government. Our farewells were made at an elaborate ball at the White House

on December 24, 2025, and on Christmas day we rose from the landing stage at which The Barsoom had been

moored, and amid the blare of bands and the shouting of thousands of our fellow countrymen we arose

majestically into the blue.

I shall not bore you with dry, technical descriptions of our motors and equipment. Suffice it to say that the

former were of three types—those which propelled the ship through the air and those which propelled it

through ether, the latter of course represented our most important equipment, and consisted of powerful

multiple−exhaust separators which isolated the true Barsoomian Eighth Ray in great quantities, and, by

exhausting it rapidly earthward, propelled the vessel toward Mars. These separators were so designed that,

with equal facility, they could isolate the Earthly Eighth Ray which would be necessary for our return voyage.

The auxiliary engine, which I mentioned previously and which was Orthis' latest invention, could be easily

adjusted to isolate the eighth ray of any planet or satellite or of the sun itself, thus insuring us motive power in

any part of the universe by the simple expedient of generating and exhausting the eighth ray of the nearest

heavenly body. A fourth type of generator drew oxygen from the ether, while another emanated insulating

rays which insured us a uniform temperature and external pressure at all times, their action being analogous to

that, of the atmosphere surrounding the earth. Science had, therefore, permitted us to construct a little world,

which moved at will through space—a little world inhabited by five soul.

Had it not been for Orthis' presence I could have looked forward to a reasonably pleasurable voyage, for West

and Jay were extremely likeable fellows and sufficiently mature to be companionable, while young Norton,

the ensign, though but seventeen years of age, endeared himself to all of us from the very start of the voyage

by his pleasant manners, his consideration and his willingness in the performance of his duties. There were

three staterooms aboard The Barsoom, one of which I occupied alone, while West and Orthis had the second

and Jay and Norton the third. West and Jay were lieutenants and had been classmates at the air school. They

would .of course have preferred to room together, but could not unless I commanded it or Orthis requested it.

Not wishing to give Orthis any grounds for offense I hesitated to make the change, while Orthis, never having

thought a considerate thought or done a considerate deed in his life, could not, of course, have been expected

to suggest it. We all messed together, West, Jay and Norton taking turns at preparing the meals. Only in the

actual operation of the ship were the lines of rank drawn strictly. Otherwise we associated as equals, nor

would any other arrangement have been endurable upon such an undertaking, which required that we five be

practically imprisoned together upon a small ship for a period of not less than five years. We had books and

writing materials and games, and we were, of course, in constant radio communication with both Earth and

Mars, receiving continuously the latest news from both planets. We listened to opera and oratory and heard

the music of two worlds, so that we were not lacking for entertainment. There was always a certain constraint

in Orthis' manner toward me, yet I must give him credit for behaving outwardly admirably. Unlike the others

we never exchanged pleasantries with one another, nor could I, knowing as I did that Orthis hated me, and

feeling for him personally the contempt that I felt because of his .character. Intellectually he commanded my

highest admiration, and upon intellectual grounds we met without constraint or reserve, and many were the

profitable discussions we had during the first days of what was to prove a very brief voyage.

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Chapter I. AN ADVENTURE IN SPACE 8

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Edgar Rice Burroughs - Moon 1 - Moon Maid

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