At a small gurgling spring but a short distance away they drank freely and filled their canteens to capacity. Then, refreshed and ready to prepare the meal, they were about to head for the tent when Dr. Rander noticed something coming at them. He turned about quickly, his face white with fear.
The youths saw the danger and ran toward the mules as fast as they could.
Advancing toward them was a heavy swarm of green jungle flies, whose bite all knew to be poisonous as well as annoying. If the flies attacked the explorers, the result would be marks and red, swollen scratches that would disappear only after several weeks of patient treating.
“The mosquito nets—quick!” cried Dr. Rander, opening a pack and fumbling about nervously. “We must have them! That swarm of flies is so large that there won’t be anything left of us!”
But the adventurers were not quick enough. Before they could get out the nets the buzzing flies were upon them, biting their faces and arms severely. The little insects even penetrated the heavy clothing in a determined effort to satisfy their thirst for blood.
“This is awful!” groaned Bob, working feverishly to find a net.
Scarcely would they put a hand into the packs when they would have to remove it and slap away the flies, the marks of which already pained severely.
At last Joe found the pack that contained the nets, and lost no time in distributing the latter among his friends and himself.
“Now let them come,” challenged Bob, facing the swarm angrily. “I guess it won’t do ’em any good now.”
But even with the protection afforded by the closely woven nets, the menacing little creatures bit the explorers’ arms and legs most annoyingly.