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A PRINCESS OF MARS
by Edgar Rice Burroughs
CHAPTER I
ON THE ARIZONA HILLS
I am a very old man； how old I do not know。 Possibly I am
a hundred； possibly more； but I cannot tell because I have
never aged as other men； nor do I remember any childhood。
So far as I can recollect I have always been a man； a man
of about thirty。 I appear today as I did forty years and
more ago； and yet I feel that I cannot go on living forever；
that some day I shall die the real death from which there is
no resurrection。 I do not know why I should fear death；
I who have died twice and am still alive； but yet I have the
same horror of it as you who have never died； and it is
because of this terror of death； I believe； that I am so
convinced of my mortality。
And because of this conviction I have determined to write
down the story of the interesting periods of my life and of
my death。 I cannot explain the phenomena；I can only set
down here in the words of an ordinary soldier of fortune a
chronicle of the strange events that befell me during the ten
years that my dead body lay undiscovered in an Arizona
cave。
I have never told this story； nor shall mortal man see this
manuscript until after I have passed over for eternity。 I know
that the average human mind will not believe what it cannot
grasp； and so I do not purpose being pilloried by the public；
the pulpit； and the press； and held up as a colossal
liar when I am but telling the simple truths which some day
science will substantiate。 Possibly the suggestions which I
gained upon Mars； and the knowledge which I can set down
in this chronicle； will aid in an earlier understanding of the
mysteries of our sister planet； mysteries to you； but no
longer mysteries to me。
My name is John Carter； I am better known as Captain Jack
Carter of Virginia。 At the close of the Civil War I found
myself possessed of several hundred thousand dollars
（Confederate） and a captain's commission in the cavalry arm
of an army which no longer existed； the servant of a state
which had vanished with the hopes of the South。 Masterless；
penniless； and with my only means of livelihood； fighting；
gone； I determined to work my way to the southwest and
attempt to retrieve my fallen fortunes in a search for gold。
I spent nearly a year prospecting in company with another
Confederate officer； Captain James K。 Powell of Richmond。
We were extremely fortunate； for late in the winter of
1865； after many hardships and privations； we located the
most remarkable gold…bearing quartz vein that our wildest
dreams had ever pictured。 Powell； who was a mining engineer
by education； stated that we had uncovered over a million
dollars worth of ore in a trifle over three months。
As our equipment was crude in the extreme we decided
that one of us must return to civilization； purchase the
necessary machinery and return with a sufficient force of
men properly to work the mine。
As Powell was familiar with the country； as well as with
the mechanical requirements of mining we determined that
it would be best for him to make the trip。 It was agreed that
I was to hold down our claim against the remote possibility
of its being jumped by some wandering prospector。
On March 3； 1866； Powell and I packed his provisions on
two of our burros； and bidding me good…bye he mounted
his horse； and started down the mountainside toward the
valley； across which led the first stage of his journey。
The morning of Powell's departure was； like nearly
all Arizona mornings； clear and beautiful； I could see
him and his little pack animals picking their way down the
mountainside toward the valley； and all during the morning I
would catch occasional glimpses of them as they topped a hog
back or came out upon a level plateau。 My last sight of
Powell was about three in the afternoon as he entered the
shadows of the range on the opposite side of the valley。
Some half hour later I happened to glance casually across
the valley and was much surprised to note three little dots
in about the same place I had last seen my friend and his
two pack animals。 I am not given to needless worrying； but
the more I tried to convince myself that all was well with
Powell； and that the dots I had seen on his trail were
antelope or wild horses； the less I was able to assure myself。
Since we had entered the territory we had not seen a
hostile Indian； and we had； therefore； become careless in the
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。