out with sacks, and often with pack-oxen to collect and
bring them to the villages; and on such occasions vast heaps of them are
accumulated and stored, in the same way as grain!

Conversing of these things the night passed on until it was time for
going to bed. The field-cornet went out once again to observe the wind;
and then the door of the little kraal was closed, and the family retired
to rest.

CHAPTER V.

THE LOCUST-FLIGHT.

The field-cornet slept but little. Anxiety kept him awake. He turned and
tossed, and thought of the locusts. He napped at intervals, and dreamt
about locusts, and crickets, and grasshoppers, and all manner of great
long-legged, goggle-eyed insects. He was glad when the first ray of
light penetrated through the little window of his chamber.

He sprang to his feet; and, scarce staying to dress himself, rushed out
into the open air. It was still dark, but he did not require to see the
wind. He did not need to toss a feather or hold up his hat. The truth
was too plain. A strong breeze was blowing--it was blowing _from the
west_!

Half distracted, he ran farther out to assure himself. He ran until
clear of the walls that enclosed the kraals and garden.

He halted and felt the air. Alas! his first impression was correct. The
breeze blew directly from the west--directly from the locusts. He could
perceive the effluvium borne from the hateful insects: there was no
longer cause to doubt.

Groaning in spirit, Von Bloom returned to his house. He had no longer
any hope of escaping the terrible visitation.

His first directions were to collect all the loose pieces of linen or
clothing in the house, and pack them within the family chests. What!
would the locusts be likely to eat them?

Indeed, yes--for these voracious creatures are not fastidious. No
particular vegetable seems to be chosen by them. The leaves of the
bitter tobacco plant appear to be as much to their liking as the sweet
and succulent blades of maize! Pieces of linen, cotton, and even
flannel, are devoured by them, as though they were the tender shoots of
plants. Stones, iron, and hard wood, are about the only objects that
escape their fierce masticators.

Von Bloom had heard this, Hans had read of it, and Swartboy confirmed it
from his own experience.

Consequently, everything that was at all destructible was carefully
stowed away; and then breakfast was cooked and eaten in silence.

There was a gloom over the face