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of food somewhere。
They streamed everywhere。 Ish was sorry not to be a good enough entomologist to ascertain what really was happening and to work out the history of this overpowering increase。 But in spite of some investigations； he never even discovered for certain whether the ants were spreading outward from some great center of development or whether they were breeding equally all over the city。
Their scouts ranged everywhere。 Suddenly he had to bee a furiously meticulous housekeeper； for the slightest scrap of food or even a dead fly brought an immediate stream of ants an inch wide； overwhelming the insignificant prey which had attracted them。 He found them wandering upon Princess's coat like fleas； although apparently they did not bite。 He found them in his own clothes。 Once in the early morning he awoke with a horrible dream because a stream of ants was pouring across his own cheek； bent to some goal which he never discovered。
Actually the house was only alien ground into which they made raids。 Their real strength lay outside。 Their hills seemed now to be everywhere。 He could not overturn a clod without having ants swarm out by thousands from burrows that pierced the earth。 They must be annihilating all the other insects； he thought； destroying their means of subsistence even if not killing them。 He got bottles of ant…poison and DDT spray from the drug store； and tried to make the house into a hostile island； but the pressure of numbers was so great from the outside that they streamed across his spray。 Doubtless all the trespassers inevitably died； but the death of even millions of individuals would not affect such numbers appreciably。 He tried to estimate how many ants must be living on this one city lot； but he came out with an unbelievable answer in billions。 Had they no natural enemies？ Had they broken all limits Of control？ With the removal of man were they now destined to inherit the earth？
Yet； after all； they were only the little hustling ants which had irritated and plagued California housewives。 Making some investigations； he found that actually the range of the plague did not extend appreciably beyond the limits of the city。 In some way； like dogs and cats and rats； these ants had e to be domestic animals dependent upon the activities of man。 This gave him a certain hope。 If he had only been seeking his ease； he would have left the city； but he preferred； even at the cost of some disfort； to watch what was happening。
Then one morning he realized suddenly that he had not noticed any ants。 He looked around carefully； but he could not see any of their scouts。 He dropped a bit of food on the floor； then went away about some other business for a few minutes。 When he returned to the scene of his experiment； the food lay there without an ant upon it。 Curious； realizing that something had happened； he went outside。 He turned over a clod of dirt； and no ants swarmed from their holes。 He hunted carefully。 Here and there he discovered a few stragglers wandering about aimlessly； but they were so few that he could have counted them individually。 He hunted still further。 He could find no dead bodies of ants。 They had simply vanished。 Perhaps； if he had had the skill in their ways to dig down and find their nests； he would have discovered that they were lying dead in their billions。 But again he could only wish that he knew more of their manner of life and could carry on an investigation。
He never solved the mystery； but he had little doubt as to what had happened。 When any creature reached such climactic numbers and attained such high concentration； a nemesis was likely to fall upon it。 Possibly the ants had exhausted the supplies of food which had led to this tremendous increase of numbers。 More likely； some disease had fallen upon them； and wiped them out。 In the next few days he smelled； or thought he smelled； a faint all…pervading putrescence； as if from the decaying bodies of billions of ants。。。。
One evening shortly afterward； he sat reading； and after a while began to feel hungry。 He went to the kitchen； and rummaged in the refrigerator for some cheese。 Happening to glance at the electric clock； he was surprised to see that the time was only nine…thirty…seven。 He had thought it was later。 On his way back to the living…room he took a bite of the cheese； and glanced at his wrist…watch。 The watch…hands stood at ten…nine； and he knew that he had set the watch by the clock within twenty…fopr hours。
〃The old clock's going to pieces at last；〃 he thought。 〃Not surprising！〃 He remembered how the motion of its hands had startled him when he had first returned to the house。
He sat down to read again。 A high wind from the north with the heavy smell of smoke in it blew so hard that it rattled the windows occasionally。 By now he was used to the smell of smoke； and did not think about it。 At many times he could not even get a good view because of the smoke of the burning …forests。 After a while he blinked his eyes a little； and stared more intently at the page where the letters seemed to have grown strangely indistinct。 〃This smoke must be making my eyes water；〃 he thought。 I don't seem to see so well。〃 But as he looked closer； it seemed that not only the page before him but the whole room had grown dimmer。 With a sudden start he looked at the electric…light bulb in the bridge lamp beside him。
Then quickly； with a jumping heart； he was out of his chair and standing on the front porch looking out over the broad stretches of the city below him。 The lights were still burning along the streets。 The chains of yellow beads still showed on the great bridge； and at the tops of the towers the red lights were flashing。 He looked more carefully。 The lights seemed a little dimmer than they should be； but he could be imagining that； or they might be obscured by all the drifting smoke。 He went back and sat in his chair again and tried to read； forgetting about it…forgetting what he feared。
But he blinked…and again！ Looking at the light beside him；… he was puzzled。 Then suddenly he remembered the clock！ 〃Well；〃 he thought； 〃it had to e！〃
His watch now showed ten…fifty…two。 He went out to the kitchen； and saw that the clock was at ten…fourteen。 He calculated apprehensively。 The result was bad。 As closely as he could remember； the clock had lost six minutes in about threequarters of an hour。
The clock was run； he knew； by electrical impulses which were ordinarily timed at sixty to the minute。 Now they must be ing less often。 An electrical engineer would doubtless have found it an elementary matter to calculate just how much less often。 Ish could even have made an attempt at the calculation himself； but he saw no use in it； and he felt suddenly downcast。 In any case； once the Power…and…Light system had started to go to pieces； the rate of decline would undoubtedly be progressively faster。
Back in the living…room； he could scarcely doubt now that the light had faded still more。 Deep shadows seemed to have moved out from behind the chairs in the ers of the room。
〃The lights are going out。 The lights of the world！〃 he thought； and he felt like a child going alone into