South to Propontis

To the South lay Propontis, capital of Mars. But between it and the homesick Earth-youth stretched a burning desert—lair of the deadly Avis Gladiator !
It wasn't the grim thought that he would be dead in a few moments that filled the mind of Don Moffat so much as the bitter realization that a sixteen-year-old suspicion had been confirmed too late.
Across the small room a mad light burned in the blood-shot eyes of his uncle. In spite of the raw liquor he had drunk, the grimy paw that held the old electronic gun was steady.
Beyond the battered hut's open door heat-blasted desert pulsated as a tiny sun beat savagely down on the arid, sterile wastes from the inferno's distant rim.
It was that southern rim, a mere uneven thread of rust, to which Don had raised his eyes so many times that day, his heart light with the thought that he was going to Propontis. And from Propontis to a greener world beyond—a world he had dreamed of one day seeing; a world where water wasn't priceless. Earth!
Just entering his twenties, he had spent his life on the Martian wastelands, a motherless kid who had trailed a diamond-mad father over the wilderness of sand and rock.
Don had been seven when they struck the Suzie lode. There were plenty of the rough stones, and his father sent for the boy's uncle and his own brother. Together they were to mine and share alike.
Shortly after his uncle had arrived Don found his father with a charred hole in his heart, bleaching on the sand. Uncle Fred had cursed at him when he wept. Later, though, the man explained that it must have been one of the native Martians. Don believed him then, but as he grew and came to know his uncle, he began to doubt.
That morning Uncle Fred had abruptly announced that they were through, that the last gem had been mined from the Suzie lode. But there were many diamonds in the plastic boxes, enough to satisfy any man. They would pack their Iguana, Gecko, and make ready for the long trek.