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James Killian Spratt's Graphic Interpretation of
Edgar Rice Burroughs' A Princess of Mars
I hastened to the scoutboat sheds,
and soon had out both my machine,
and Kantos Kanís.
As I hurriedly made Kantos Kanís craft
I started my engine and eased my throttle forward,
then skimmed over the edge of the landing tower
and dove into the streets, far below the altitude
usually occupied by the Air Patrol.
In no time I was setting our fliers
on the barracks roof,
beside an astonished Kantos Kan.
Plunging into our immediate plans,
He set my compass for Helium,
Our routes agreed as far as the Palace,
but we had flown only part of the distance
when suddenly a light shot down from above,
full upon my craft.
Kantos Kan dove his flier
into the city shadows, and I rose sharply.
A voice roared out to halt.
This evoked no reply from me,
and was followed with a shot.
I threw my machine into high gear and
Part of my route followed the waterway
More fliers had joined the chase.
In moments I was zig-zagging at terrific speed and being pursued by a dozen Patrol fliers.
I managed to elude their searchlights but
for brief moments,
LEFT: Soon a swift, hundred-man cruiser with automatic guns joined the pursuit,
so I decided to hazard everything on a straight course.
RIGHT: Opening the throttle wide, I
lay prone on the deck,
With the rapid setting
of both the moons,
I felt certain that
I could shake off my pursuers
in the sudden darkness.
I congratulated myself
How far I fell before
I regained control of the plane
I do not know,
but I must have been
very close to the ground,
as I plainly heard the squealing
of animals below me.
The boat was down
Not until I was out of sight
of my pursuersí lights
did I slow to flash on my little torch
to assess the damage.
To my consternation, I saw that
had utterly destroyed my compass,
my only guide,
and also my speedometer.
Now my chances of finding Helium,
I flew for a time in near total darkness,
palpable as a velvet cloak,
turning on my interior lights
only occasionally to check my altimeter.
Eventually the moons returned,
I wrapped my silks around me
My chronometer still worked,
so I hazarded to guess
that four or five hours
should bring me within sight of Helium,
unmistakable with its twin cities,
circular and walled,
with their immense, mile-high towers
of crimson and golden yellow,
visible from a hundred miles.
At sunrise I saw that
--but it was not Helium.
After six hours of
continuous flying at high speed,
I found myself over a vast expanse
of dead sea bottom.
Convincing myself that
In the forenoon
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