“I have the disposition of a thoat, Uthia,” she said.  “Forgive me!  I love you and there is nothing that I would not do for you and nothing would I do to harm you.  Again, as I have so often in the past, I offer you your freedom.”

“I do not wish my freedom if it will separate me from you, Tara of Helium,” replied Uthia.  “I am happy here with you—­I think that I should die without you.”

Again the girls kissed.  “And you will not fly alone, then?” questioned the slave.

Tara of Helium laughed and pinched her companion.  “You persistent little pest,” she cried.  “Of course I shall fly—­does not Tara of Helium always do that which pleases her?”

Uthia shook her head sorrowfully.  “Alas! she does,” she admitted.  “Iron is the Warlord of Barsoom to the influences of all but two.  In the hands of Dejah Thoris and Tara of Helium he is as potters’ clay.”

“Then run and fetch my flying leather like the sweet slave you are,” directed the mistress.

* * * * *

Far out across the ochre sea-bottoms beyond the twin cities of Helium raced the swift flier of Tara of Helium.  Thrilling to the speed and the buoyancy and the obedience of the little craft the girl drove toward the northwest.  Why she should choose that direction she did not pause to consider.  Perhaps because in that direction lay the least known areas of Barsoom, and, ergo, Romance, Mystery, and Adventure.  In that direction also lay far Gathol; but to that fact she gave no conscious thought.

She did, however, think occasionally of the jed of that distant kingdom, but the reaction to these thoughts was scarcely pleasurable.  They still brought a flush of shame to her cheeks and a surge of angry blood to her heart.  She was very angry with the Jed of Gathol, and though she should never see him again she was quite sure that hate of him would remain fresh in her memory forever.  Mostly her thoughts revolved about another—­Djor Kantos.  And when she thought of him she thought also of Olvia Marthis of Hastor.  Tara of Helium thought that she was jealous of the fair Olvia and it made her very angry to think that.  She was angry with Djor Kantos and herself, but she was not angry at all with Olvia Marthis, whom she loved, and so of course she was not jealous really.  The trouble was, that Tara of Helium had failed for once to have her own way.  Djor Kantos had not come running like a willing slave when she had expected him, and, ah, here was the nub of the whole thing!  Gahan, Jed of Gathol, a stranger, had been a witness to her humiliation.  He had seen her unclaimed at the beginning of a great function and he had had to come to her rescue to save her, as he doubtless thought, from the inglorious fate of a wall-flower.  At the recurring thought, Tara of Helium could feel her whole body burning with scarlet shame and then she went suddenly white and cold with rage; whereupon she turned her flier about so abruptly that she was all but torn from her lashings upon the flat, narrow deck.  She reached home just before dark.  The guests had departed.  Quiet had descended upon the palace.  An hour later she joined her father and mother at the evening meal.