remarks that told that some of the people from the sacked city of Selketh were imprisoned in there.
Only a metal partition separated him from them. He managed to get to the partition and tapped on it, but they took no notice. He called, but got no answer. He was afraid to shout too loudly, lest the voice of an Earthling, which is a shrill, piping sound to a deep-voiced Martian, attract the attention of the men in charge of the sub.
The partition was of plates held together with rivets. He succeeded in getting the zekolo to understand that he wanted the rivet-heads cut off. The creature found it easier to pull the rivets out altogether. After a long struggle Don succeeded in clearing away the packing-cases from near the partly freed metal plate and in wedging it partly open. He wriggled through.
He was among a mixed crowd of gigantic Martians who gaped at him in amazement.
"How did you get here, little Earthling?"
"Are you a prisoner, too?"
"I am looking for Princess Wimpolo. Have any of you seen her?" he asked.
Life came back into the blank faces of the dejected prisoners.
"Has the Princess been captured too?"
"How terrible!"
"Serves her right!"
Many were the opinions expressed about the news, but nobody had seen Wimpolo. Most of them said that she had been in her own palace when their city was captured, and that it was impossible for her to get into such trouble. She was too well guarded.
"Royalty takes care of their own, no matter what happens to people like us," the prisoners said.
"Nevertheless, this catastrophe has struck rich as well as poor, and even the highest in all Mars," Don said, "Princess Wimpolo is a prisoner like you in the hands of the ape-men, or of the people, whoever they are, who are in charge of them."
But Wimpolo certainly was not here. Don did not know whether he was relieved that she was not in this hell-hole where so many were confined in a small space, or disappointed at his lack of success in tracing her, up to the present.
"WHERE are we going?"
That was the question that all the prisoners asked him, but Don could give no answer. They seemed to think that he had been all over the sub, and knew all the plans of its masters. He had difficulty in explaining to them that he knew no more than they did. Most of the Martians thought the sub had gone very deep, some said over a mile. They pointed to the high air-pressure as proof of this. Of course, pressures in Mars are much less than those on Earth.
He asked them if they had found out anything.
"Such as what?" they asked.
"Haven't you heard the ape-men talking? Or the uniformed men in charge of them? Haven't you any idea of where they come from?"
"It's another lesser king in revolt against Usulor," they said. "Like Sommalu. The apes do his fighting for him."
"A plague on all kings, I say," said another.
Don felt he was not getting anywhere. These people were not likely to help him in any desperate break for freedom. They were spiritless.
"Are you all cowards?" he asked. "Will nobody—"
One of the giant Martians clapped a hand over his mouth. On the other side of the partition the zekolo stirred
