"Princess Wimpolo is down there, in front of us." He pointed with his left arm at the captured city. "You all know what that means. All lights out. Dismount."
At the correct word of command the natural searchlights of the snakes winked out. The coils unwound, letting the guards down. In the darkness came the words of the leader.
"Form into line, Down on your faces. On the word, 'Now!' you will all aim your deathrays at the spot I shall aim at. Now!"
A score of deathrays stabbed as one. Across the plain the unified beam of destruction glared, soundlessly. Wherever a group of ape-men was gathered they sank down soundlessly,
"Now, singly. Pick off solitary individuals."
The surprise attack had caused great slaughter. Now the shrill note of a siren sounded from far off. Don thought it came from a grey shape in the docks. It was a curious shape, more suggestive of a submarine than a ship. Don knew that there were submarines on Mars, but he had not seen one until now. And now the deathrays of the guards seemed suddenly to have become powerless. The pale beams could no longer be seen: no longer did apemen sink to the ground under the attack.
"It must be a screen," the leader declared. "Our rays are stopped by some sort of obstruction. We must break it. Mount."
Though the guards knew what a forlorn hope it was, they mounted with no hesitation and no sign of fear. They were Wimpolo's men, hand-picked, and their lives belonged to her.
DON watched the city. Ape-men stood as though on guard outside many of the houses. He reasoned that the inhabitants must be imprisoned in those houses, such of them as still lived. It seemed to him that the ape-men showed some sort of discipline, as though all were working according to some pre-arranged plan. He felt sure that Martian humans were in charge of them, using them for their own ends, probably for some deep-laid scheme of planetary conquest.
He could see several men moving about, not ape-men but normal Martians. The brutes left them unmolested, seemed rather to be afraid of them. And the capture of Princess Wimpolo seemed to have been a deliberate, planned affair.
"Professor," Don muttered, "this is not an outbreak of wild beasts or savages that we are up against. It is war, an organized revolution."
"I had arrived at the same conclusion," Winterton answered. "It confirms my opinion that as long as Mars has kings who are absolute rulers in their own areas, there will always be war, even though one king is overlord of them all."
"While the attention of the enemy is engaged on this side of the city," Don said, "we will work our way around to the other side. We might be able to get into the city unobserved."
"Do you think that will do any good?" the Professor asked. "My idea is to get away from here as quickly as possible and take to King Usulor the news of our discoveries. This is a job for a big army."
"And leave Wimpolo in the hands of the enemy?" Don asked.
"What can we hope to do? At least we have the satisfaction of knowing that the Princess is in the hands of human beings, and not depraved brutes."
But he gave the orders to the animals, and the two moved off rapidly to the left of the fight, as Don had wanted.
