artisans who produce every manufactured article wrought by the
green Martians. They make the powder, the cartridges, the firearms;
in fact everything of value is produced by the females. In time
of actual warfare they form a part of the reserves, and when the
necessity arises fight with even greater intelligence and ferocity
than the men.

The men are trained in the higher branches of the art of war; in
strategy and the maneuvering of large bodies of troops. They make
the laws as they are needed; a new law for each emergency. They are
unfettered by precedent in the administration of justice. Customs
have been handed down by ages of repetition, but the punishment for
ignoring a custom is a matter for individual treatment by a jury of
the culprit's peers, and I may say that justice seldom misses fire,
but seems rather to rule in inverse ratio to the ascendency of law.
In one respect at least the Martians are a happy people; they have
no lawyers.

I did not see the prisoner again for several days subsequent to our
first encounter, and then only to catch a fleeting glimpse of her as
she was being conducted to the great audience chamber where I had
had my first meeting with Lorquas Ptomel. I could not but note the
unnecessary harshness and brutality with which her guards treated
her; so different from the almost maternal kindliness which Sola
manifested toward me, and the respectful attitude of the few green
Martians who took the trouble to notice me at all.

I had observed on the two occasions when I had seen her that the
prisoner exchanged words with her guards, and this convinced me that
they spoke, or at least could make themselves understood by a common