A FOREST OF HORNS. 125 
was, when we returned for it, so stung by the 
Breeze-flies as to be one mass of small ichorous 
ulcers from head to hoofs; so pitiable was the 
poor beast’s plight, its injured limb having pre- 
cluded all chance of escape from the flies, that, as 
a mere matter of humanity, it was at once shot. 
I have also frequently seen tethered horses so 
injured by the punctures of the Breeze-fly as to 
be rendered useless for many months. Their 
favourite places for puncturing are on the front 
of the chest—where the saddle goes,—and inside 
the thighs. If aman were tied or otherwise 
disabled, so that all chance of beating off or 
escaping from the Breeze-fly was out of his power, 
I have no hesitation in asserting my firm convic- 
tion that they would rapidly kill him. 
The Belted Breeze-fly is most abundant, a lady 
charmingly dressed in orange flounced with black, 
very attractive when you see her sunning herself 
amid the petals of some prairie flower, but a closer 
acquaintance destroys the charm, as she soon 
lets you feel her power of wounding. 
Travelling in Oregon one constantly finds one’s- 
self on the banks of a wide glassy lake; gazing 
over its unrippled surface, the eye suddenly rests 
on what, to the inexperienced in hunter’s craft, 
appears to be small clumps of twisted branches, 
