In a second the grasshoppers covered every inch of his hands, his face, his clothes, his saddle. He felt delicately balanced, as if his stomach might be in his throat too, if he didn't proceed carefully. I wish now I had, he said. July had no reason to think that Elmira was sick, but he had so much worry that he hated every delay.
Pretty one. Maybe they had killed an antelope. There were plenty along the canyon, though some had to be pried out of the dirt. But the man seemed as cheerful as if he'd just won a tub of money.
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