Edgar drags himself into a sitting position once it becomes clear that they've arrived at their destination, and looks around. It's ... really hard to tell the different Martians apart, but he thinks maybe the one shouting at the others is Tars.

Well. Time to find out just how much trouble he's in.

He briefly considers, and discards, the idea of doing a showy leap off the thoat's back; he's not at all sure he could stick the landing. Instead he grabs hold of the edge of the saddle and slides down, carefully testing his legs for support before letting go of the stirrup.