“I don’t see any snake,” Russ answered, looking down in the grass. His mother and the other children were some distance off.
“I don’t see it, but I heard it,” Rose exclaimed, very much excited.
Then Russ heard again the queer sound and at once it came to his mind what it was. He had often heard it before, back in Pineville on hot, summer days—just such a day as this was—toward the end of the season.
“That isn’t a rattlesnake, Rose,” said Russ. “Don’t be a baby!”
“What was it then?” she asked. “It sounded just like a rattlesnake. I mean like I think one would sound, for I never saw any.”
“It was a locust,” answered Russ. “I guess it’s on this tree,” and he pointed to one near which they had been gathering flowers. “Yes, it’s on this tree, I see it!” he added, as the sound came again. “Come and watch how funny it does it, Rose. It jiggles itself all over.”
“Are you sure it isn’t a snake?” she asked.
“Of course I am!” said Russ. “Why, I’m looking right now at the locust. It’s low down. I never saw one so low. Most always when they sing out like that they’re high in the trees. Come quick, before it flies away.”
Rose came over to Russ’s side. She looked to where he pointed and saw a curious winged insect that, just as Rose arrived, began to give forth its queer song. And, as Russ said, the locust seemed to “jiggle” all over. Its wings and legs trembled with the force of the noise it made.
“Will it bite?” asked Rose.