220 CONFESSIONS OF A BEACHCOMBER 



no friends about to tolerate your egotistical confidences 

 that there are no flies about you ; but the big, booming 

 creature has his suspicions. Apparently in his opinion you 

 are just the sort of country to attract and encourage flies, 

 and he does not immediately satisfy himself to the con- 

 trary. But should you witlessly happen to have attracted 

 the companionship of ever so innocent a fly, the awful 

 presence seizes it on the wing and is away with the twang 

 of a bullet. It will pick a fly from your sunburnt arm 

 no occasion for coats here with neatness and despatch, 

 and leave wondering comprehension far behind. And 

 having seized its prey, it may, haply, seek as it booms along 

 the nearest support on which to enjoy its meal. Then you 

 see what a terrific creature it is. One favoured me with a 

 minute's close observation. By a hook on one of the 

 anterior legs (it possesses the regulation half-dozen) it had 

 attached itself to a tiny splinter on the under-side of the 

 verandah rail, and so hung, the body being at right angles 

 to its support. Thus stretched, the leg appeared fully two 

 inches long, and with the rest of its legs it clasped to its 

 bosom the unfortunate little fly, shrunken with distress, 

 the very embodiment of hopeless dismay. No sight which 

 comes to memory's call equals for utter despair that of the 

 little insect, which no doubt in its day had provoked a big 

 lump of irritation and strong but ineffective language. 

 Hugged by its great enemy, it seemed aware of its fate, yet 

 unreconciled to it. Pendant by the one long, slender leg, 

 as if hung by a thread, the blond monster seemed quite at 

 ease over its repast. That was its customary pose and 

 attitude at meal-times. As far as observation permitted, it 

 was pumping out the blood of its prey, but before the 

 operation was finished it forbade closer scrutiny by 

 humming away with a note of savage resentment a 

 rumble, a grumble and a growl, ending in a swelling 

 shriek. 



It would be interesting to know how many flies of the 

 common vexing kind such a ferocious creature disposes of 

 during the day. He preys upon the lustrous bluish-green 



