Comparatively few of these animals now remain
between Sesheke and the Falls, and they are uncommonly wary, as it is
certain death for one to be caught napping in the daytime.

On the 18th we entered Sesheke. The old town, now in ruins, stands on
the left bank of the river. The people have built another on the same
side, a quarter of a mile higher up, since their headman Moriantsiane was
put to death for bewitching the chief with leprosy. Sekeletu was on the
right bank, near a number of temporary huts. A man hailed us from the
chiefs quarters, and requested us to rest under the old Kotla, or public
meeting-place tree. A young Makololo, with the large thighs which Zulus
and most of this tribe have, crossed over to receive orders from the
chief, who had not shown himself to the people since he was affected with
leprosy. On returning he ran for Mokele, the headman of the new town,
who, after going over to Sekeletu, came back and conducted us to a small
but good hut, and afterwards brought us a fine fat ox, as a present from
the chief. "This is a time of hunger," he said, "and we have no meat,
but we expect some soon from the Barotse Valley." We were entirely out
of food when we reached Sesheke. Never was better meat than that of the
ox Sekeletu sent, and infinitely above the flesh of all kinds of game is
beef!

A constant stream of visitors rolled in on us the day after our arrival.
Several of them, who had suffered affliction during the Doctor's absence,
seemed to be much affected on seeing him again. All were in low spirits.
A severe drought had cut off the crops, and destroyed the pasture of
Linyanti, and the people were scattered over the country in search of
wild fruits, and the hospitality of those whose ground-nuts (_Arachis
hypogoea_) had not failed. Sekeletu's leprosy brought troops of evils in
its train. Believing himself bewitched, he had suspected a number of his
chief men, and had put some, with their families, to death; others had
fled to distant tribes, and were living in exile. The chief had shut
himself up, and allowed no one to come into his presence but his uncle
Mamire. Ponwane, who had been as "head and eyes" to him, had just died;
evidence, he thought, of the potent spells of those who hated all who
loved the chief. The country was suffering grievously, and Sebituane's
grand empire was crumbling to pieces. A large body of young Barotse had
revolted and fled to the north; killing a man