And now, another tale well calculated to keep you in...
The Fence.
The story, Liningan vs. The Ant, begins in a minute.
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I first met Liningan while performing my duty as commissioner of the Toto Santo district
along the upper reaches of the San Sistema River.
As my boat neared its plantation landing, I saw him up on the riverbank regarding me with mild interest.
A great hulk of a man with bristling gray hair, bulky nose and lucid eyes.
His entire appearance somehow suggested an aging and shabby eagle.
I came quickly to the point of my visit and issued my warning.
Liningan plopped placidly at a huge cigar and seemed unimpressed.
Decent of you paddling all this way just to give me the tip, commissioner.
But even a herd of crocodiles couldn't fight me from my planting.
No, no, no, you don't understand. These aren't creatures you can fight.
These are army ants.
They're an elemental force, a gigantic catastrophe, an act of God.
Ten miles long, two miles wide, ants, nothing but ants.
Each one as big as your thumb.
They can strip a man's body to a skeleton in six minutes.
You're not an old woman, commissioner.
I tell you, Liningan, you don't know these ants.
But he sat there puffing at a cigar and regarded me with a grin and I knew it was hopeless.
As I boarded my launch and cast off, I felt a sudden resentment toward this obstinate old man.
Get with it with something else. I'd never met a man like him before.
I could think of only one thing, one man, Liningan.
One man who calmly evaluated his chances against the deadly menace,
coolly decided he could win and was willing to stake his life on it, to risk a horrible death for it.
It was terrifying, and yet it was fascinating.
And when dawn came, I knew that the fascination of that man was more than I could resist.
That Liningan's fight was drawing my mind, drawing me back toward that plantation and death.
And there was nothing I could do about it. I had to go back.
It was ten o'clock in the morning when I rounded the bend below Liningan's plantation.
I put in at the dock and tied up the launch, and I saw him standing on the bank above me,
arm folded, stubby cigar on his mouth and a sardonic grin on his face.
Back for another warning, Commissioner?
No.
Back to stay a while?
Yes.
Huh?
You, uh, you don't seem very surprised.
I am not.
You expected me?
I thought you'd be back. Come along, we'll get some horses.
You'll want to ride around the plantation, take a look at the defenses I've rigged up.
Defenses? Have you had time?
I've always known that sooner or later the ants would come.
Oh, well, yes, I'd like to see the defenses.
And the ants. We'll be getting a glimpse of them before long, I should think.
Yes, and the ants.
The defenses Liningan had devised were quite impressive.
Surrounding three sides of the plantation like a huge horseshoe was a ditch twelve feet wide.
The end of this ditch ran into the river which formed the fourth side of the plantation.
And at the upriver entrance to the ditch, Liningan had constructed a dam by which river water could be diverted.
A large handwheel controlled the floodgate of the dam.
We approached the ditch and rode along it. I could see it was nearly full.
How do you like my first line of defense, Commissioner?
It's, uh, reassuring like a moat around a castle.
Unless the ants know how to build rafts, they won't reach the plantation.
This is only the outer moat. There's a better one than this.
Come along. We'll go up to the high ground where the buildings are. We can get a view from there.
Uh, Liningan.
Yes?
I didn't see any women or children around the plantation or any animals.
That's right. Move them across the river.
Then even you think there's danger, huh?
Not because of danger, Commissioner. It's a matter of efficiency.
Efficiency?
It cuts down on the efficiency of the men if they're worried about their families.
Critical situations only become crises when oxen and women get excited.
Oh, here we are.
This ditch, it's much smaller than the other.
You've noticed how all the buildings are on this high peak of ground here.
This inner ditch surrounds them, and it's lined with concrete.
Even filled with water, this is no barrier. It's not big enough. Why have the ants got this far?
They'll get no farther.
This ditch wasn't built for water, Commissioner.
See the pipes leading into it? See those storage tanks up on the hill?
Gasoline. We can throw up a wall of flame.
Care to bet they won't like that? I dare say they won't.
Hey, look, Commissioner. Over there on the horizon.
There are your ants.
Look, Captain.
It was a sight I'll never forget.
Over the range of hills, as far as I could see, crept a darkening hem, ever longer and broader,
until the shadows spread across the entire slope, then downward, downward, uncannily swift.
All the grass and bushes on the entire slope were being mown, led by a giant sickle,
leaving only the vast, moving shadow, extending, deepening, and moving rapidly near.
They're a hideous lot.
Mining them. We can't last against that. Look at them.
They can spizz your pictures with their corpses and still have enough to destroy every one of them.
We've got to run for it.
No, they haven't gotten to us yet and they never will.
Come along, we'd best get back to the men.
The hostile army was approaching in perfect formation.
Along the front that moved forward as uniformly as a straight line, the ants drew nearer and nearer to the water ditch.
Across the scant 12 feet of the ditch, I stared at them and they seemed to stare back at me.
Around four in the afternoon, the ant scouts, having found no crossing, there was a stirring among the main army.
And then, an immense flood of ants about a hundred yards in width, commenced pouring in a glimmering black cataract down the far slope of the ditch.
Thousands drowned instantly. The rest began using the bodies as bridges.
Mining can immediately swung into action.
C'mon, C.C.R.!
Get to the dam over the floodgate wider, get the water in the ditch moving faster.
C.C.R.!
Look at them drown by the clouds as they keep coming. Even though the current carries many of them away, they're advancing.
We'll take some blasts.
C.C.R.!
How about those shovels and petrol sprinklers? You pass them on to the men?
It is being done.
Then get all hands here and hurry. This looks like the spot for action.
Alright then, busy with the shovels now. Jump and stand and blast on them. See how they like that.
Go with the petrol sprinklers. Start pumping.
Ah, they don't like it, Commissioner. They don't like it a bit. Look at them.
Yes, but how about the ones on the far side of the ditch?
Whole clumps of them rolling into the water. The rest are using them as bridges.
Keeping some eyes on them. They should be present by now.
Major!
Hey! The antics broke into the beach and clouds have emerged. A few clouds have been flying even now.
I see them.
Use your shovels on them, men.
Clap the crawlers!
Ah!
What's the matter?
The crawlers!
Into the pit, you idiots!
That was your pause in the bathroom!
Don't stop now, the rest of you! Clap them!
We must know them!
You run now, you're doomed, every one of you!
You've got to fight them back! Use your shovels!
You're dead if you stop!
Keep at it! Keep at it!
Ha! And now you've got the front gate open. The water's moving faster!
Ah, look at the ants! They can't hold their own against the current now!
They're being washed away!
Look at them, Commissioner! We beat them! We've won!
It was true, Leiningen had won, at least the first round.
The floodgates were left open to force call any night crossing.
I allowed myself to hope that the ants would go on, pass us by.
But when dawn came, the dark blanket was still there, motionless across the ditch.
Then we noticed a feverish activity on the other side of the plantation.
Here, a grove of Cameron trees lined so far into the ditch, and every tree swarmed with the crawling insects.
Instead of eating the leaves, they were merely gnawing through the stems.
So that a thick green shower fell steadily to the ground.
Well, it looks as if it's feeding time for our friends, eh?
Class, have all the friends we've brought here and get everyone over here except the lookouts on the other side.
And pass out the shovels.
You're going to deprive them of a meal?
Meal? Aren't they cutting down the leaves for food?
I wish they were.
What do you mean?
If they wanted to get across, they'd have to have rafts.
And that's just what they've got.
Those leaves are their rafts.
Even as these folk's leaves went tumbling down the far bank by the thousands,
the current drew them away from the bank, and each leaf carried several ants.
Don't worry, as long as you keep spraying them and shoveling dirt on their rafts, they can't land.
But there will be too many.
It's true.
Look, more leaves in the ditch all the time.
Or they'll have a solid carpet to walk across in a minute.
Not so fast, Commissioner. I've still got to pick up my sleep-holding.
Hey, you know, the water!
The ditch is drying up.
Of course it's drying up. That's the plan.
Those are the orders I sent to the dam.
Are you mad?
As soon as it's empty, what's to prevent the antics?
Look, the water's way down. It's almost dry.
They'll be able to come across the bottom.
They'll not make it if the man at the dam carries out his orders.
He should have opened the gates again by now.
What, the flood the ant?
Right.
What a chance to take if anything should happen.
Ah, there comes the water!
Now we'll give the crawlers in the ditch a good ride.
Out into the river.
There! Look at them go!
Mining and tactics were successful at first.
The violent flow of water raced through the ditch, overwhelming leaves and ants, and sweeping them along.
Three times the ditch was emptied, three times the ants raced across the bottom,
and three times the water arriving just in time carried them away.
But the fourth time, as the water lowered nearly to the bottom of the ditch,
we waited in vain for the running water. And then...
Señor!
What's the matter? What's gone wrong at the dam?
The ant... it's just as the man at the dam lowered the water almost at the bottom.
The ant attacked the dam, and before he could open the front gate, he was almost surrounded.
He ran. The ants kept coming. They had crossed the deep.
Minington stood motionless, absorbing the news of his defeat without a word.
Then he raised his pistol and fired three shots into the air.
The prearranged signal for all the men to retreat instantly to the second line of defense.
The concrete line ditches two miles from the point of invasion.
Soon after we arrived there, the natives commenced straggling in, violently.
Minington waited until all of them had gathered, and then he spoke to them.
Well, lads, we won the first round and lost the second.
But we'll smash the crawlers yet. For the moment, we're safe.
In just a moment, we will return for the concluding act of...
Suspense.
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Well, we were safe for the moment.
The next morning the black swarm was solid around us, and their shock troops were hard at work.
They're dropping shreds of bark and twigs and leaves into the petrol-filled ditches,
forming a floating bridge across the surface of the liquid.
Leinington stood silently watching this operation, and I could see a grudging admiration in his face.
And then after several hours, the attack came.
Down the ditch they poured, thousands of them, and across the bridge of twigs, rapidly approaching the inner side.
Leinington sat motionless watching them.
Leinington, for the love of God, don't just sit there like a statue. They'll be on us in a moment.
Let them kill us first.
Now, all right, everyone back from the ditch. Fitch, hand me the torch.
Now we'll see how our friends like a little heat around the neck.
Flames from the ditch shot into the air, devouring us like a misty.
But some time before the petrol burned down the bed of the ditch, when it did, the devil came back for more.
Again, Leinington fired the ditch to destroy them, and still again they came on.
But the deep success of firing the path to the end grew easier.
It was under the film of ash, which now covered the petrol.
And as they returned to the assault, time after time, a slow, sickening horror crept into my mind.
I looked quietly at Leinington, and then at the gasoline tank.
He read my gaze and nodded slowly.
All right, Commissioner, we could hold them off forever if our supply of petrol was unlimited.
Well, it isn't. We've got enough to fill the ditch once more.
And then...
Shikuru, come back!
If you've got the ditch, you'll never make it to the river.
Shikuru, come back!
Merciful God is great.
Russ, keep the men back where you've gone. Don't let anyone else try for the river.
Again, isn't there any way? Any way at all? We've got to do something.
But see your way, there, mercy.
Yes. Yes. Yes!
What is it?
We'll flood the whole plantation.
Flood how?
We've got to close the floodgate at the dam. That'll do it.
Are you mad? The dam's nearly two miles away. Two miles to that.
That's listen to me. Now listen, I'm proud of you.
Now there's still a chance by shutting the floodgates in the dam and flooding the whole plantation from the river.
The moment I'm over the ditch, set fire to it. That'll allow time for the flood to wash away the ash.
Then all you have to do is wait for me.
It's impossible. You can't get to the dam, let alone get back.
That's where you're wrong, Commissioner. I'll get there and I'll be back.
Take care of things while I'm gone, huh?
I watched him as he calmly pulled on high leather boots,
drew gauntlets over his hands, and stuffed the spaces between britches and boots,
gauntlets and arms with petrol-soaked rags.
He shielded his eyes with clothes-fitting mosquito goggles,
and plugged his nostrils and ears with cotton.
Then the natives drenched his clothes with petrol.
Leiningen was ready.
And as he stood calmly surveying the courtly mistakes of that dam,
I was near the ditch ready for the run. I realized this was as it should be.
I, Leiningen, would meet the ants and defeat them, or be defeated by them.
Leiningen versus the ants.
I ran. I ran long equal strides, with one thought, one sensation in my being.
I must get through.
I dodged all trees and shrubs, except for the quick second when my toes touched the ground,
the ants would have no opportunity to rely on me.
I ran off. I was halfway to the dam before I felt ants under my clothes, with few on my feet.
I didn't walk at all. Mechanically, I was scarily conscious of that light.
The dam drew toward me slowly. The distance grew less and less.
Finally, only a hundred yards away, fifty, and then I was there.
I gripped the ant-covered wheel, and hardly had I seized it when a horde of ants
floated over my hands and my arms. I strained, and slowly the wheel turned and turned more.
The frontage was swinging slowly shut, and then it was shut, and the water was rising,
rising behind the breakwater, closer to the top, closer, and then it was spilling over.
The flooding of the plantation had begun, and it called the wheel.
For the first time I realized I was crowded from head to foot with a theme.
Thunder-fire stabbed me when they fit into my flesh.
Then I could see dimly that wall of flame at the ditch.
It was too far away. I could not last half that distance.
I stumbled. I felt myself being swarmed over the valley.
I tried to ride. Great wait.
Then I remembered. Six minutes. Then nothing but bones.
I couldn't let that happen to me. I couldn't die like that.
My feet, my feet dragged myself forward for the flame, the ditch, the ring of flame.
Closer now, only a little farther.
We had waited for hours, and all at once through the blazing ring around us,
an apparition hurtled and fell full length on the ground.
Leiningen, alive with ants, unconscious, with glazing eyes and lacerated face.
We rushed to him, stripped off his clothes, and poured at the ants that covered him.
His body seemed almost one open wound, in one place I could see the white of a bone.
Later, as the curtain of flame lowered, I looked out where the blanket of ants had been
and saw only a vast expanse of water covering the entire plantation.
The ants were gone, drowned, and Leiningen had won.
He lay on his bed, his body swathed from head to foot with bandages, but Leiningen was still alive.
Everything in order, they're gone. The ants are gone.
I told you that I'd come back, even if I am a bit streamlined.
And then this aging man grinned, shut his eyes, and quietly fell asleep.
Suspense.
You've been listening to Leiningen and the Ants, a story by Carl Stephenson, written for suspense by Robert Ritt.
In a moment, the names of our players and a word about next week's story of suspense.
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Music.
Heard into my story were Louis Van Rooten as Leningen and Martin Blaine as the commissioner.
Also included in the cast were Ralph Camargo, Ronald Dawson, and Sam Raskin.
We'll return again next week when we return with an explosive story written by Peter Fernandez.
The Dynamite Run. Another tale well calculated to keep you in.
Suspense.
On CBS Radio.