_The Tarks were attacking, the bosomy princess was clinging to him in terror, and Harold Smith realized he was at the end of his plot-line. What a dilemma! And what an opportunity!!_ For the most part, all Harold Worthington Smith's Martian stories ever netted him were standard rejection slips, but every now and then one or another of the editors to whom he submitted them would pen him a brief note to the effect that his writing indicated an unusually vivid imagination. However, they invariably added, his dialogue was stilted, his heroines were dimensionally impossible, and his stories were wish-fulfillment reveries in a Burroughs vein--unredeemed, unfortunately, by Burroughs' high-flown pu…
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