“Will Starrett squatted before the campfire in
the creek bottom, drinking his coffee and watching the other men over the rim
of his cup. In the strong light from the fire, the sweat and the dirt and the
weariness made harsh masks of their faces. They were tired men. But pushing up
through their fatigue was a growing restlessness. Now and then, a man’s face
was lost in heavy shadow as he turned away to talk with a neighbor. A head
nodded vigorously, and the buzz of talk grew louder. To Starrett, listening, it
was like the hum a tin of water makes as it comes to a boil. The men were
growing impatient now, and drawing confidence from each other. Snatches of talk
rose clearly. Without the courtesy of direct address, they were telling Tim Urban
what to do.”
That magnificent passage
opens this lean Frank Bonham tale. He gives us a dirt-grimed account of desperate
farmers fighting a grasshopper invasion. In this tale there are no black hats and
white hats and no showdowns in the street.
Rather it is one of
those tremendous Westerns that takes flesh and blood people, pits them against the
elements and sees what shakes out as the stresses of survival and the fatigue
of a natural trial grinds them down.
An excellent story.
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