"I believe there's no country in the world where animals are more tortured by flies than in Africa.

The wretched insects plunge in that sharp instrument of theirs, pierce the skin, and leave an egg underneath; the warmth of the body hatches it into what we fishing boys called a gentle, and that white maggot goes on eating and growing under the poor animal's coat, living on hot meat always till it is full-grown, when its skin dries up and turns reddish-brown, and it lies still for a bit, before changing into a fly, which escapes from the hole in the skin it has eaten and flits away to go and torture more animals." "And not only horses, but other animals!" said West quietly.
"Horses only?
Oh no; the bullocks get them terribly, and the various kinds of antelopes as well.

I've seen skins taken off blesboks and wildebeestes full of holes.

And there you are, my lad; that's a lecture on natural history." "Given in the queerest place and at the strangest time a lecture was ever given anywhere," said West.
"It is very horrible, though, for the animals to be tortured so!" "Yes," said Ingleborough thoughtfully; "but the flies must enjoy themselves wonderfully.

They must have what people in England call a high old time, and--eh?
What's the matter ?" "Be ready!" whispered West.