ich the journey had lasted, they could not be more than
six miles from the farm, the ordinary precautions were taken for the
night. Tom and his companions would watch one after the other. Dick
Sand insisted that nothing should be neglected in that respect. Less
than ever, would he depart from his habitual prudence, for a terrible
suspicion was incrusted in his mind; but he did not wish to say
anything yet.

The retiring to rest had been made at the feet of a group of large
trees. Fatigue aiding, Mrs. Weldon and hers were already asleep, when
they were awakened by a great cry.

"Eh! what's the matter?" asked Dick Sand, quickly, who was on his feet
first of all.

"It is I! it is I who have cried!" replied Cousin Benedict.

"And what is the matter with you?" asked Mrs. Weldon.

"I have just been bit!"

"By a serpent?" asked Mrs. Weldon, with alarm.

"No, no! It was not a serpent, but an insect," replied Cousin Benedict.
"Ah! I have it! I have it!"

"Well, crush your insect," said Harris, "and let us sleep, Mr.
Benedict!"

"Crush an insect!" cried Cousin Benedict. "Not so! I must see what it
is!"

"Some mosquito!" said Harris, shrugging his shoulders.

"No! It is a fly," replied Cousin Benedict, "and a fly which ought to
be very curious!"

Dick Sand had lit a little portable lantern, and he approached Cousin
Benedict.

"Divine goodness!" cried the latter. "Behold what consoles me for all
my deceptions! I have, then, at last made a discovery!"

The honest man was raving. He looked at his fly in triumph. He would
willingly kiss it.

"But what is it, then?" asked Mrs. Weldon.

"A dipter, cousin, a famous dipter!" And Cousin Benedict showed a fly
smaller than a bee, of a dull color, streaked with yellow on the lower
part of its body.

"And this fly is not venomous?" asked Mrs. Weldon.

"No, cousin, no; at least not for man. But for animals, for antelopes,
for buffaloes, even for elephants, it is another thing. Ah! adorable
insect!"

"At last," asked Dick Sand, "will you tell us, Mr. Benedict, what is
this fly?"

"This fly," replied the entomologist, "this fly that I hold between my
fingers, this fly--it is a _tsetse_! It is that famous dipter that is
the honor of a country, and, till now, no one has ever found a _tsetse_
in America!"

Dick Sand did not dare to ask Cousin Benedict in what part of the world
this redoubtable _tsetse_ was only to be met. And when his companions,
after this incident, h