118 IN NIGHTMARE’S GRIP. 
It did not sting. It did not hurt. It did not 
do anything to harm her then. 
Only, when it was gone, when it rose and 
flew away, and peace settled once again upon 
the field, you would have seen, if the cow had 
let you use a magnifying-glass, that the fly 
had laid its eggs upon the beast’s back, and 
they would hatch into maggots, and the 
maggots would ultimately be found under 
the skin, and. 
Well, ask the old cow with the tumours. 
She had those lifelong mementoes to show 
that she had for a few seconds once been the 
steed of the nightmare gadfly at high noon, 
had for some months been the unwilling host 
of the ox-bot’s or warble-fly’s pestilential 
offspring. 
