A swarm of yellow locusts passed overhead, and exploding shrapnel tore them into myriads of pieces, their wings and limbs falling near the burghers.

"I am glad I am not a locust," remarked a burgher farther to the left of the others, as he dropped a handful of torn fragments of the insects.

Shells and bullets suddenly splashed everywhere around the burghers, and they crouched more closely behind the rocks.

The enemy's guns had secured an accurate range, and the air was filled with the projectiles of iron and lead.

Exploding shells splintered rocks into atoms and sent them tearing through the grass.