Zenuta had scarcely left me than, not feeling disposed to resume my former reverie, I got up to take a stroll through the kraal. There had been few hunting parties lately, owing to the necessity of driving the cattle every day a great distance to obtain water, as for some time past the neighbourhood of our dwelling had been suffering from drought--a terrible affair to both natives and cattle. No sooner do the signs show than the dread of famine immediately seizes the people, and not without reason, for owing to the pasturage growing scarce, being quickly scorched up by the fierce rays of the tropical sun, many cows perish; consequently the milk--the staff of life to the Kaffir--considerably fails in quantity. Both men and women are in horror, for the rivers begin to dry, then the wells and springs. Such had been the state of things for some time with us, and Metilulu at last had recourse to the power of the prophets, or rain-makers; for they fully believe that these men are capable of bringing the rain they so desire. There is little doubt that these rain-makers can read the nature of the clouds even better than the majority of the people, though all understand it pretty well, as most tribes do who live in a wild state and are much in the open air; yet it is certain that these men are very often at fault, and the rain will not come for all their arts. Of course they must feel aware of this, and, to prevent losing the good opinion of their devotees, they will demand almost impossible forms to be gone through, or things given them, to work their charms, averring that they could never succeed without. I had had this proved to me by experience, as for the last few days the rain-maker--his lank, skeleton-like figure clothed in an attire something similar to the witch-doctors--had from the top of a high hill been beckoning to the clouds, which did not come. Sheep, goats, and other animals, had been sacrificed, but to no effect; the blue sky remained quite as clear, save where the sun, like a glowing furnace, shot his beams, of a white-heat intensity, down upon the parched land. Owing to what I have stated above, the whole tribe were extremely downcast, while the cattle perished daily. Famine seemed inevitable. There yet was one more chance. The rain-maker had declared the next morning he would mention what he would require for another sacrifice, and this time he knew that he should succeed: the clouds would no longer be able to resist his power, but, on the contrary, would pour their sweet supply of refreshing life upon the earth, bringing pasturage and plenty to the tribe. What the prophet required proved to be the hearts of three koodoos, cut from the animals while alive. I felt extremely disgusted and indignant at this cruel and absurd request, but I was yet to learn that these men could ask wilder things than this, and get them speedily obeyed by the miserable, ignorant people over whom they exert such arbitrary power.