The leaves of the bitter tobacco plant appear to be as much to their liking as the sweet and succulent blades of maize! Pieces of linen, cotton, and even flannel, are devoured by them, as though they were the tender shoots of plants.

Stones, iron, and hard wood, are about the only objects that escape their fierce masticators.
Von Bloom had heard this.

Hans had read of it, and Swartboy confirmed it from his own experience.
Consequently, everything that was at all destructible was carefully stowed away; and then breakfast was cooked and eaten in silence.
There was a gloom over the faces of all, because he who was the head of all was silent and dejected.

What a change within a few hours! But the evening before the field-cornet and his little family were in the full enjoyment of happiness.
There was still one hope, though a slight one.

Might it yet rain?
Or might the day turn out cold?
In either case Swartboy said the locusts could not take wing--for they cannot fly in cold or rainy weather.