“Th’ don’t seem t’ be any clouds,” he said in surprise. “Ain’t it queer! Looks’s if it might be some kind of eclipse,” he said. “Do you remember—no, of course you don’t—but, th’ was an eclipse of th’ sun—total, I believe they called it—when I was only about seven year old. All th’ chickens went to roost, it got so dark, an’ when th’ cover come off they crowed’s if ’twas mornin’. We had a blue hen an’ she crowed too. Pap killed ’er. He said it was bad luck t’ have a hen crowin’ about th’ place.”
“You all don’t believe in luck, do you?” the child asked.
“I don’t, but pap does,” the boy answered apologetically. “I cried about th’ blue hen; she was just like a dog; she’d let you ketch ’er, an’ she’d sing, ‘co-ook, co-ook, co-ook,’ to ’erself, right in your arms, an’ wasn’t afraid. She wouldn’t never set though. I guess that’s why pap was so ready with his axe.”
Happening to look up again, the girl gave an exclamation of surprise. “Is it snow?” she asked.
“No!”
They sat with their faces turned skyward, studying the upper air intently. The sun was completely obscured now and the rapidly moving mass, not unlike snow indeed, was being driven straight toward the north. Whatever it was, it was driving fiercely ahead, as if impelled by a strong wind, though there was not a breath of air stirring below. Soon small objects began to detach themselves from the mass, so that the eye could distinguish separate particles, which looked not unlike scraps of silver driven with terrific force from the tail end of some gigantic machine. One of these scraps struck the girl on the cheek and she put her hand up quickly to feel the spot. While examining the place she received a similar blow on the forehead and another on the back of her hand. Drawing her bonnet down tight over her face for protection, she shaded her eyes and again looked up. The whole moving cloud had lowered to a distinguishable distance.
“Why, they’re all grasshoppers!” she exclaimed; and indeed so true was the observation and so rapidly were the grasshoppers settling that the boy and girl were obliged to turn their backs and shield their faces from the storm.
The cattle also, annoyed by the myriads of insects settling upon them, began to move about restlessly and presently to mill slowly around, threshing with their heads from side to side while they whipped their flanks with their tails.
“I didn’t know they came like this!” the girl said, as Luther’s pony sidled over toward her.
“What’d you say?” the boy demanded, leaning forward to catch her reply.