The ordinary Labrador fly is smaller than a pinhead. You do not
feel it until after it has had its bite, and then the sensation is
like that of a fiery itch. In addition to this kind, we had to
withstand the attacks of flies called by the natives "bulldogs."
These beasts are about the size of the top joint of one's thumb.
They are well named. When they bite, you feel it immediately
beyond a doubt. We used to say they bit out pieces of our flesh
entire and flew up into the trees to eat them, and we used
frequently to beg George to try his luck at shooting the brutes.
However, it must be said to the credit of both kinds of flies that
they have one good habit--they "knock off" work at the approach of
the cool of evening, thus giving you a chance to bathe as well as
sleep.

The rain was still pouring when we pitched our tent that first
night, but we had a good supper and were reasonably cheerful.
There were flapjacks dripping with the syrup of melted sugar, and
bacon, and hot bread, and coffee.

"With this sort of work before us," said Hubbard, we must keep well
fed."

"The river," said I, "certainly is the limit. If the Indians have
to travel on it much, I feel sorry for them."

"Well," said Hubbard, "we've surely got our work cut out. At this
rate we're going to make pretty slow progress."

"Blake told us," I ventured, "we could paddle up the river eighteen