248 ON THE FEONTIEE. 



all difficult to become acquainted with. But the greatest 

 pest of the place is a huge horse-fly. I do not suppose 

 this fly is restricted to the shores of Soda Lake ; I hope he 

 is. I have only seen him there, and certainly do not want 

 to see him anywhere else. His body is about an inch and 

 a half long, and his wings much longer. He is a black, 

 hairy, large-eyed, vicious-looking fly, and I hate him. 

 Indeed these Beelzebubs are no joke. I have seen a white 

 mule literally covered with blood from their bites, and 

 though I never lost any animals by them, not having on 

 any occasion stopped more than one day at Soda Lake, 

 I know of several cases of cavalry horses having died of 

 weakness from loss of blood caused by their pertinacious 

 attacks. 



I was once at this place in early February and made 

 quite a little discovery, a very pleasing one. I flushed a 

 snipe a regular old-fashioned English snipe. Leaving what 

 I was about to do undone, I had my double-barrel quickly 

 disinterred from the ambulance-waggon ; and, although my 

 shot was altogether too large for such very small game, I 

 had an hour's fair sport, bagging over a dozen of the little 

 brown beauties. They were the fattest, best-flavoured, 

 biggest snipe I ever saw, or, still better, ate ; and, as I 

 devoured them, Soda Lake spring as a camp ground rose 

 quickly and rapidly in my estimation. 



