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Updated: May 20, 2025
Depths of hell, we'll probably find them, Jim. But a marvelous hell, and one no man has ever before seen." They left their little haven and moved along the main tunnel toward the heart of the termitary, walking easily upright in this tunnel which was only one of many hundreds in the vast, hollowed mountain which loomed into the outer sunshine to almost a height of a yard. Trapped
However, even the termite-paste, and the fact that the termitary citizens were blind, didn't seem enough to account for the immunity granted the two men as they began to come presently to more crowded passages and tunnels near the center of the mound.
He had thought that the two of them might simply enter the termitary, mingle perilously, but with at least a margin of safety with the blind race it housed, and walk out again whenever they pleased. But from the moment of entering they'd had no chance.
The only glance we're permitted is at a stampede following the wrecking of a termitary. And that tells us no more about the real natures of the things than you could tell about the nature of normal men by watching their behavior after an earthquake!" Jim Holden tapped out his pipe. On his face the impatiently humorous look gave place to a measure of sympathy. Good old Denny.
"Take us out to Morton's Grove, to the big termitary you'll find about a quarter of a mile off the road," said Denny. "Set us down near the opening to one of the larger termite tunnels. Then wait till we come out again. You may have to wait quite a while but that isn't much to ask in return for our submission to your rays." "I'll wait a week, if you wish.
"Denny, old boy, when you can introduce me to an adventure like that ..." He waved his arm violently to complete the sentence. "What a book of travel it would make! 'The Raid on the Termites. Exploring an Insect Hell. Death in an Ant-hill...." "Termitary! Termitary!" corrected Denny irritably. "Whatever you want to call it," Jim conceded airily.
Shields in a figurative more than a literal sense." He set down a small porcelain pot, and opened it. Within was a repulsive-looking, whitish-brown paste. "Ground-up termites," he explained. "If we're to go wandering around in a termitary, we've got to persuade the inmates that we're friends, not foes. So we'll smear ourselves all over with this termite-paste before ever we enter the mound."
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