man. The man will not harm you ... he is
your friend. He will help you."

As I watched, the ants seemed to become less excited. From the larger of
the two, I received the thought,

"We are dying. The man is killing us with his strong vibrations. We
must kill the man."

Then a very powerful thought impression burst upon my brain.

It seemed to come from the colony, three feet away.

"Warning to the man. Stop your thought transmissions at once! Your
vibrations are killing us. We want nothing from you. We have everything
we need. You will learn nothing from us. You will stop _at once_!"

I threw the switch to "send." Viewed through the microscope, the two
ants were lying on their backs ... dead, to all appearances.

"What if I don't stop?" I sent the thought question, "I want to learn
the secret of your communication. In return, I will teach you many
things. I can't stop now!"

I changed to receive, and the answer came back,

"If you do not stop ... we will kill you!"

I turned off the apparatus, but the powerful bell tone continued to
pound incessantly into my brain.

I laughed. They'd kill me ... would they? Those tiny insects ... what
could they do? Well--let them try, but I'd get what I was after. I would
not quit now, with success so near. What if my transmissions did kill a
few of them? Of what importance were the lives of a few ants as compared
to the advancement of the science of Communication?

* * * * *

_Feb. 9._

I found myself digging again in the back yard yesterday. As before, I
had been "day-dreaming," when an overwhelming desire to go outside and
feel the cool moist earth between my fingers and on my face took
possession of me.

I rushed out into the back yard, and began digging feverishly ... madly,
until finally I fell, exhausted. Then my mind cleared and I filled in
the hole.

About half the ants have died, due no doubt to the strength of my
radiations. No matter how low I cut the power, they still cannot live
but a short time under the force of my transmissions. They have stopped
sending thought impressions entirely, and are using only their
"clacking" code signals, which they seem to realize I cannot understand.

I feel that they are undertaking some sort of campaign against me. For
hours they congregate, closely packed, their antennae stiffly pointed
straight up. Their thought currents seem to be flowing into and merging
with the bell tone, which