She groped her way through the darkness, giving the tower and its enclosure as wide a berth as possible.Sometimes she stumbled, for in the long shadows cast by the rising Cluros objects were grotesquely distorted though the light from the moon was still not sufficient to be of much assistance to her.Nor, as a matter of fact, did she want light.She could find the stream in the dark, by the simple expedient of going down hill until she walked into it and she had seen that bearing trees and many crops grew throughout the valley, so that she would pass food in plenty ere she reached the stream.If the moon showed her the way more clearly and thus saved her from an occasional fall, he would, too, show her more clearly to the strange denizens of the towers, and that, of course, must not be.Could she have waited until the following night conditions would have been better, since Cluros would not appear in the heavens at all and so, during Thuria's absence, utter darkness would reign; but the pangs of thirst and the gnawing of hunger could be endured no longer with food and drink both in sight, and so she had decided to risk discovery rather than suffer longer.
Safely past the nearest tower, she moved as rapidly as she felt consistent with safety, choosing her way wherever possible so that she might take advantage of the shadows of the trees that grew at intervals and at the same time discover those which bore fruit.In this latter she met with almost immediate success, for the very third tree beneath which she halted was heavy with ripe fruit.Never, thought Tara of Helium, had aught so delicious impinged upon her palate, and yet it was naught else than the almost tasteless usa, which is considered to be palatable only after having been cooked and highly spiced.It grows easily with little irrigation and the trees bear abundantly.The fruit, which ranks high in food value, is one of the staple foods of the less well-to-do, and because of its cheapness and nutritive value forms one of the principal rations of both armies and navies upon Barsoom, a use which has won for it a Martian sobriquet which, freely translated into English, would be, The Fighting Potato.
The girl was wise enough to eat but sparingly, but she filled her pocket-pouch with the fruit before she continued upon her way.
Two towers she passed before she came at last to the stream, and here again was she temperate, drinking but little and that very slowly, contenting herself with rinsing her mouth frequently and bathing her face, her hands, and her feet; and even though the night was cold, as Martian nights are, the sensation of refreshment more than compensated for the physical discomfort of the low temperature.Replacing her sandals she sought among the growing track near the stream for whatever edible berries or tubers might be planted there, and found a couple of varieties that could be eaten raw.With these she replaced some of the usa in her pocket-pouch, not only to insure a variety but because she found them more palatable.Occasionally she returned to the stream to drink, but each time moderately.Always were her eyes and ears alert for the first signs of danger, but she had neither seen nor heard aught to disturb her.And presently the time approached when she felt she must return to her flier lest she be caught in the revealing light of low swinging Thuria.She dreaded leaving the water for she knew that she must become very thirsty before she could hope to come again to the stream.If she only had some little receptacle in which to carry water, even a small amount would tide her over until the following night; but she had nothing and so she must content herself as best she could with the juices of the fruit and tubers she had gathered.
