So a place for sandwiches was left; also places for field-glasses and other instruments, as well as for furs and sleeping-bags, which were likely to be needed, we thought, in the early stages of the journey. For ballast, instead of sand, we filled bags with zinc filings, these to be used later in making hydrogen for replenishing the balloon. It is true we thought it more than likely that we should return in some new fashion, to be provided by the Antarcticans, but we believed it well to be prepared for emergencies. Our propeller for both wind and water was now thoroughly tested, the retorts for making the gas were complete and ready, and all grew impatient at last for the day when we were to make our trial ascension. Ferratoni, I think, was more eager than the others. He seemed convinced now that not only were there human beings beyond the barrier, but that they knew of us, and waited for our coming. In just what form this had “vibrated” to him he could not quite explain, and in fact rarely attempted to do so. He was quite willing, however, to experiment with us in telepathy, or, as he termed it, in the chording of mental vibrations, through which he could often follow a train of thought in another with a success that was certainly interesting, and even startling. It appeared in no sense to be a gift with Ferratoni, but a scientific attainment, acquired by patient and gradual steps. He claimed that the principle of it was quite as simple as that of the answering musical or electric vibrations—in fact, the same. We grew to accept this theory in time, though we made little progress in its application. Perhaps our minds were too full of other things. To Ferratoni all the problems of the ages resolved themselves into Chorded Vibrations. “There is no change in the individual at death,” he said to me one day. “It is simply a moving out of the old house. The life vibration—the intelligence—remains the same. I shall be able by and by to chord and communicate with those no longer in the Physical House.” Later, when I saw Edith, I said: “The long night is telling on Ferratoni. He is becoming a spiritualist.” Edith Gale looked thoughtful. “If he does, he will be a scientific one,” she said, “and able to demonstrate reasonably the how and why of his inter-spheric communications. If all he says of his chorded vibrations be true, who shall say how far, and through what dim spaces they may not answer?”