BEYOND THE HILLS 267 



menced in earnest and all our prospects of securing 

 pictures at water holes were ended. 



On a dark, cloudy morning, I looked out of my tent 

 and thought this w^ould be another wasted day, but 

 about eleven o'clock it began to brighten up. Mike, 

 Jones, and I had an early lunch, then with all the 

 camera equipment on board one truck, went in search 

 of material for pictures. We had no particular plans, 

 just hoped that something worth while would show up. 

 Tliree miles from camp we turned off the road to circle 

 a low ridge and there before us saw the edge of a vast 

 army of locusts. In the valley beyond, we could see 

 the main swarm hovering over the veldt Hke a black 

 storm cloud. As we approached toward the center 

 of this winged horde, with the insects swarming over 

 us and pelting us from all directions, we appreciated 

 that by the merest chance we had either met again 

 the swarm which had passed over Lake Baringo, or 

 another of like magnitude. 



The ground was pulsating with the crawling mass 

 of purple insects, while the heavens in all directions 

 w^ere black with them. They obscured the sun and, 

 as w^e sped through this plague of whirring bugs, it 

 was impossible to see more than a few yards ahead. 

 The noise produced by these billions of wings was 

 deafening, resembhng the roar from a fleet of airplanes. 

 We almost ran into a wildebeest herd fighting its way 

 through this pestilent flood, and upon stopping to 

 photograph them, the animals stampeded into the 

 swarm and actuaUy faded from sight, engulfed by 

 the cloud of insects that arose in front of them. 

 These beasts and the gazelles were panic-stricken, 

 for whenever they would try to take a bite of grass 



