and made through the bush for several miles to look 

 for water and grass. 



We found the place just after dawn. There was 

 a string of half a dozen pools ringed with yellow- 

 plumed reeds like a bracelet of sapphires set in gold- 

 deep deep pools of beautiful water in the midst of 

 acres and acres of rich buffalo grass. It was too in- 

 credibly good ! 



I was trekking alone that trip, the only white man 

 there, and tired out by the all-night's work, the long 

 ride, and the searching in the bush for the lagoon I 

 had gone to sleep after seeing the cattle to the water 

 and grass. Before midday I was back among them 

 again ; some odd movements struck a chord of memory, 

 and the night at Low's Creek flashed back. Tails 

 were swishing freely, and the bullock nearest me kicked 

 up sharply at its side and swung its head round to 

 brush something away. I moved closer up to see what 

 was causing the trouble : in a few minutes I heard a 

 thin sing of wings, different from a mosquito's, and 

 there settled on my shirt a grey fly, very like and not 

 much larger than a common house-fly, whose wings 

 folded over like a pair of scissors. That was the 

 " mark of the beast." I knew then why this oasis 

 had been left by transport-rider and trekker, as nature 

 made it, untrodden and untouched. 



Not a moment was lost in getting away from the 

 ' fly.' But the mischief was already done ; the cattle 

 must have been bitten at Low's Creek weeks before, 

 and again that morning during the time I slept ; and 

 it was clear that, not drought and poverty, but ' fly ' 



4H 



