IN THE CAPE SABLE WILDERNESS 



59 



the dim twilight, staggering along with a back-load of stuff, 

 we returned to our mule tied to the palm-tree. Poor beast, 

 those Cape Sable horse-flies had reduced him to a sorry 

 state, despite his suit of armor. His legs were dripping with 

 blood, and he was so frantic with pain that it was at great 

 risk that we harnessed him and avoided the flying hoofs. 



SPOONBILL AND IBIS WATCHING THE INTRUDERS 



Accounts which I have seen, by naturalists who have 

 skirted the coast about Cape Sable and Barnes's Sound, de- 

 scribe it as " a forbidding and awful wilderness." The inter- 

 minable swamp with its always impenetrable jungle of man- 

 groves and other low trees extends to the very water's edge. 

 To make a landing, one must wade a long distance through 

 the sticky mud, and begin the ceaseless battle with the insect 

 pests. During the summer it rains heavily nearly every day, 



