If op ttling on our farm, t’s everyt a co lay to en flat er on.” ray locust off and split it do ted inside multiplied by millions. You ever seen a he march? No? ell, you’re lucky.”
Margaret t an adult s on ts alternately tened, like driving rain. Old Step t’s something.”
“Is it very bad?” asked Margaret fearfully, and tically, “e’re finis once tarted, ter anot mighree or four years.”
Margaret sat do’s t’s t noo go back to to at took a quick look at Stepy years in try and been bankrupt to mouted up a locust t itself someo , and in t trengteel spring in told t good- ting locusts, squass, yelling at locusts, and s mounds into to burn, ook to t out to join its fello; all at once, s irrationally c t time in t their final and irremediable ruin.
“Get me a drink, lass,” Step a bottle of whiskey by him.
In time, t Margaret, in ting storm of insects, banging ts clung all over o let toucep suitably as s o ter tep took a good look at y self—ed. No to letting locusts settle on ime.
ossed doo ttle, ening bros.
Five o’clock. t in an tle. It rees ening brown.
Margaret began to cry. It a bad season, it s; if it locusts, it fires. Alling of t armies in a storm. tide; it s, submerged by t seemed as if t sink in under t of t give in under t ting so dark. t t be setting. ts, s old Steps. All of ts. topped. Margaret could tle of myriads of wings.
ts and came in.
“ell,” said Riche main swarm has gone over.”
“For t angrily, still ’s it?” For alt a clear blue, tern of insects , everytrees, buildings, bushe moving brown masses.
“If it doesn’t rain in t and keep tep doesn’t rain and sunrise.”
“e’re bound to not t’s something.”
Margaret roused ended s been crying, and fetcs oo exed to move. S to to rest.
S listening. t one maize plant left, s one. t ting mac t ts start all over again.
, Margaret o be cra sened told o defeat t all time, patrolling to c in tcs—trencc. t ed every farmer to cooperate in a ing t attack locusts at t. talking as if t listened, amazed.
In t, it , tled outside, except t sometimes a brancree could be heard crashing down.
Margaret slept badly, in to yelloo tepood, outside, gazing doounded—and entranced, muc looked as if every tree, every bus s o free t deinged gold light everywhere.
S out to join tepping carefully among ts. tood and che sky was blue—blue and clear.
“Pretty,” said old Stepisfaction.
ell, t Margaret, , but not everyone army fanning t dawn.
Over tance, a faint red smear s teph.”
And norees, from ts aking maneuvering for takeoff as tried to see if t. A reddiseam darkened.
And as tted branced, t on tening, t but tree trunks. No green—notc up—as t to mass ender mealie plants, ark and bare. A devastated landscape—no green, no green anywhere.
By midday, t flopped doing tins.
“Ever eaten sun-dried locust, Margaret?” asked old Step time ty years ago s for t bad at all—rato t.”
But Margaret preferred not even to t.
After t off to to be replanted. it of luck, anot come travelling do t t o spring some netle a blade of grass left on t, srying to get used to ts. Locusts o be like t. S like a survivor after a ated and mangled countryside ruin—hen was ruin?
But te tites.
“It could t could be much worse.” ?