All had heard enough of locusts to know that they were only grasshoppers that neither bit nor stung any one, and therefore no one was afraid of them.
Even Von Bloom himself was at first very little concerned about them.
After his feelings of apprehension, the announcement that it was a flight of locusts was a relief, and for a while he did not dwell upon the nature of such a phenomenon, but only regarded it with feelings of curiosity.
Of a sudden his thoughts took a new direction.

His eye rested upon his fields of maize and buckwheat, upon his garden of melons, and fruits, and vegetables: a new alarm seized upon him; the memory of many stories which he had heard in relation to these destructive creatures rushed into his mind, and as the whole truth developed itself, he turned pale, and uttered new exclamations of alarm.
The children changed countenance as well.

They saw that their father suffered; though they knew not why.

They gathered inquiringly around him.
"Alas! alas! Lost! lost!" exclaimed he; "yes, all our crop--our labour of the year--gone, gone! O my dear children!" "How lost, father ?--how gone ?" exclaimed several of them in a breath.
"See the springhaan! they will eat up our crop--all--all!" "'Tis true, indeed," said Hans, who being a great student had often read accounts of the devastations committed by the locusts.
The joyous countenances of all once more wore a sad expression, and it was no longer with curiosity that they gazed upon the distant cloud, that so suddenly had clouded their joy.
Von Bloom had good cause for dread.

Should the swarm come on, and settle upon his fields, farewell to his prospects of a harvest.