A Princess of Mars | Page 4

extreme, and were wont to ridicule the stories we had heard of the
great numbers of these vicious marauders that were supposed to haunt the trails, taking
their toll in lives and torture of every white party which fell into their merciless clutches.
Powell, I knew, was well armed and, further, an experienced Indian fighter; but I too had
lived and fought for years among the Sioux in the North, and I knew that his chances
were small against a party of cunning trailing Apaches. Finally I could endure the
suspense no longer, and, arming myself with my two Colt revolvers and a carbine, I
strapped two belts of cartridges about me and catching my saddle horse, started down the
trail taken by Powell in the morning.
As soon as I reached comparatively level ground I urged my mount into a canter and
continued this, where the going permitted, until, close upon dusk, I discovered the point
where other tracks joined those of Powell. They were the tracks of unshod ponies, three
of them, and the ponies had been galloping.
I followed rapidly until, darkness shutting down, I was forced to await the rising of the
moon, and given an opportunity to speculate on the question of the wisdom of my chase.
Possibly I had conjured up impossible dangers, like some nervous old housewife, and
when I should catch up with Powell would get a good laugh for my pains. However, I am
not prone to sensitiveness, and the following of a sense of duty, wherever it may lead, has
always been a kind of fetich with me throughout my life; which may account for the
honors bestowed upon me by three republics and the decorations and friendships of an
old and powerful emperor and several lesser kings, in whose service my sword has been
red many a time.
About nine o'clock the moon was sufficiently bright for me to proceed on my way and I
had no difficulty in following the trail at a fast walk, and in some places at a brisk trot
until, about midnight, I reached the water hole where Powell had expected to camp. I
came upon the spot unexpectedly, finding it entirely deserted, with no signs of having
been recently occupied as a camp.
I was interested to note that the tracks of the pursuing horsemen, for such I was now
convinced they must be, continued after Powell with only a brief stop at the hole for
water; and always at the same rate of speed as his.
I was positive now that the trailers were Apaches and that they wished to capture Powell
alive for the fiendish pleasure of the torture, so I urged my horse onward at a most
dangerous pace, hoping against hope that I would catch up with the red rascals before
they attacked him.

Further speculation was suddenly cut short by the faint report of two shots far ahead of
me. I knew that Powell would need me now if ever, and I instantly urged my horse to his
topmost speed up the narrow and difficult mountain trail.
I had forged ahead for perhaps a mile or more without hearing further sounds, when the
trail suddenly debouched onto a small, open plateau near the summit of the pass. I had
passed through a narrow, overhanging gorge just before entering suddenly upon this table
land, and the sight which met my eyes filled me with consternation and dismay.
The little stretch of level land was white with Indian tepees, and there were probably half
a thousand red warriors clustered around some object near the center of the camp. Their
attention was so wholly riveted to this point of interest that they did not notice me, and I
easily could have turned back into the dark recesses of the gorge and made my escape
with perfect safety. The fact, however, that this thought did not occur to me until the
following day removes any possible right to a claim to heroism to which the narration of
this episode might possibly otherwise entitle me.
I do not believe that I am made of the stuff which constitutes heroes, because, in all of the
hundreds of instances that my voluntary acts have placed me face to face with death, I
cannot recall a single one where any alternative step to that I took occurred to me until
many hours later. My mind is evidently so constituted that I am subconsciously forced
into the path of duty without recourse to tiresome mental processes. However that may be,
I have never regretted that cowardice is not optional with me.
In this instance I was, of course, positive that Powell was the center of attraction, but
whether I thought or acted first I do not know, but