“How then, brother?” asked Hendrik. “I’m puzzled.”
“So am I,” said little Jan.
“And I,” added Trüey.
“Well, then,” continued Hans, “millions of the insects crawl into the fires and put them out!”
“Ho!” cried all in astonishment. “How? Are they not burned?”
“Of course,” replied Hans. “They are scorched and killed—myriads of them quite burned up. But their bodies crowded thickly on the fires choke them out. The foremost ranks of the great host thus become victims, and the others pass safely across upon the holocaust thus made. So you see, even fires cannot stop the course of the locusts when they are in great numbers.
“In many parts of Africa, where the natives cultivate the soil, as soon as they discover a migration of these insects, and perceive that they are heading in the direction of their fields and gardens, quite a panic is produced among them. They know that they will lose their crops to a certainty, and hence dread a visitation of locusts as they would an earthquake, or some other great calamity.”
“We can well understand their feelings upon such an occasion,” remarked Hendrik, with a significant look.
“The flying locusts,” continued Hans, “seem less to follow a particular direction than their larvae. The former seem to be guided by the wind. Frequently this carries them all into the sea, where they perish in vast numbers. On some parts of the coast their dead bodies have been found washed back to land in quantities incredible. At one place the sea threw them upon the beach, until they lay piled up in a ridge four feet in height, and fifty miles in length! It has been asserted by several well-known travellers that the effluvium from this mass tainted the air to such an extent that it was perceived one hundred and fifty miles inland!”
“Heigh!” exclaimed little Jan. “I didn’t think anybody had so good a nose.”