178 FEOM NORTH POLE TO EQUATOR 



night falls on the steppes; only the fire lightens the camp. But by 

 the fire and about the couch things soon become lively. Attracted 

 by the light, noxious creatures come running and creeping, first one 

 and then another, but soon in tens and in hundreds. First appear 

 gigantic spiders, which, with their eight legs spread out, cover a 

 surface as large as an outstretched hand. After the spiders, or some- 

 times along with them, the scorpions come hurrying. Both spiders 

 and scorpions rush with sinister rapidity to the fire, clambering 

 over carpet and coverlet, among the dishes of our simple supper, 

 retreating when the radiating heat becomes too strong for them, 

 turning back again under its mesmeric influence — in truth a fear- 

 some invasion. For these spiders, with their dangerous, or at least 

 painful bites, are not less dreaded than the scorpions, and they are 

 as ready to bite as the scorpions are to sting. Angrily we seize 

 another instrument which an experienced traveller had forewarned 

 us was indispensable — a long-legged pair of tongs, and with these 

 we grip as many of the intruders as possible, and throw them 

 without mercy into the crackling fire. By the united efibrts of the 

 party most of the hellish brood are soon in the flames; their suc- 

 cessors are similarly treated, until the invasion slackens, and we 

 begin to breathe^— but it is too soon! For new and more uncanny 

 visitors draw near the fire — venomous snakes, apparently fasci- 

 nated like the spiders. Among them the naturalist recognizes as 

 the most abundant species an exceedingly interesting creature well 

 deserving his attention: it is the sandy -yellow horned viper, the 

 famous or infamous Cerastes of the ancients, the Fi engraved on so 

 many Egyptian monuments, the asp from whose fangs Cleopatra 

 sought death.*^ It may be interesting to the zoologist, but the 

 wearied traveller consigns it to the depths of hell. The whole 

 company becomes lively when this visitor is announced; everyone 

 seizes his tongs with much greater haste and anxiety than before. 

 Whoever sees the snake approaches it cautiously, grips it behind 

 the neck, presses the tongs firmly lest it escape, and throws it into 

 the glowing fire. There its destruction is watched with no small 

 satisfaction. In many parts of the steppe these vipers drive one 

 almost to despair. Thanks to their scaly coat, whose markings corre- 



