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A Graphic Interpretation of
Edgar Rice Burroughs'
A Princess of Mars
James Killian Spratt
as I soon learned,
I was down for but a moment.
I found his weapon piercing my left breast,
but only through the muscles,
entering near the center of my chest
and coming out below the shoulder.
As I had lunged I had turned
my sword buried to the hilt
in his green breast.
Removing the blade from my body,
I regained my own,
and was greeted with
a murmur of applause,
for which I cared not at all.
Bleeding but weak
and death must take a back seat.
Accustomed to such happenings,
they dressed my wounds,
applying their wonderful healing
and remedial agents;
on Earth, I would have been flat
on my back for days,
but felt only a slight soreness.
I hastened back to Dejah Thoris' chariot,
to find the poor Sola,
her chest swathed in bandages,
but little the worse for her encounter with Sarkoja,
whose deflected blade had
inflicted only a slight flesh wound.
As I approached I saw Dejah Thoris
"Is she injured?" I asked Sola.
"No," she answered, "
"So now there is none to polish the teeth
"I do not understand your ways or hers,
from sadness, and today Sarkoja,
from baffled rage,
when they pulled her from me --"
"Your mother!" I exclaimed.
"But I did, and my father, too.
We made an imposing and awe-inspiring spectacle as we strung out across the yellow landscape. Two hundred and fifty ornate and brightly-colored chariots, four hundred mounted warriors, and hundreds of extra animals.
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