Each chief has his own especial rain-maker, who is also the "Ngaka," or doctor. These men are held in great veneration by the people, who firmly believe they are possessed of supernatural power. Of course the "Ngaka" encourages this belief in every possible way, playing upon the credulity of his victims with the solemnity of a seer of old. He makes a paying business of it, too, exacting a goat or sheep, or even several head of cattle, as payment, according to the magnitude of the service performed by him. He knows the family history of each individual in his particular district, and, in a quiet, unnoticed way, finds out everything likely to be of use to him either in his profession as doctor or as prophet. He is a student of nature to no small degree, and certainly possesses a wide knowledge of the use of herbs. He has a wonderful magnetic influence over others, the result, I suppose, of superior brain development.

When rain is needed, the chief calls the "Ngaka," who, armed with his divining rod, arrives at the khotla to hear what is required of him. He then proceeds to "doctor" the rod with a black pigment and human blood (I fancy in the remote past a human victim was always sacrificed, but times are changed, and a few drops of blood are all the rain-god now requires). The people assemble in the village and watch him as he ascends the nearest mountain. When on the summit, he raises his rod heavenward, and calls "Pula ha-e-na a bolokue" (Rain come down and save us). This he does several times, and goes through a considerable amount of pantomime; but, as no one is allowed to go near him, only his gestures can be followed after that one loud call. When he is satisfied that rain is coming, he runs back to the village singing. The people join him, and indulge in feasting and merry-making. If, after seven days, no rain comes, there is something wrong with the divining-rod, which has displeased the rain-god, so the rod is again "doctored," and "Ngaka" goes off once more to the mountain, where he remains in supplication until "he brings down rain." In reality, these men consult the heavens before consenting to make rain, and consequently are seldom unsuccessful.

Certain children are selected, in infancy or early childhood, to be made doctors. Their poor little bodies are cut, and various "medicines" rubbed into the wounds, which bestow powers of divination, of healing, and of witchcraft upon the children. They become restless and unable to sleep in the hut at night, and, as their minds develop, they are trained by the old doctors to succeed them.

There is in Basutoland a little creature of whom all stand in awe. He is not much bigger than a baboon, but is minus the tail, and is perfectly black, with a quantity of black hair on his body. He has hands and feet like an ordinary mortal, but is never heard to speak. He shuns the daylight, and abhors clothing, even in the coldest weather. Evidently he is above such sensations as heat and cold. This wonderful little creature is "Thokolosi," the Poisoner, the Evil One, whose deeds are cruel, revengeful, apparently unlimited. He has power to kill, to afflict in every imaginable way, to send mad, or to visit with unknown sickness; but to do good is beyond his power. There are several of these little people in the country. They generally are employed by the witch doctors to do their dirty work.

To slight a Thokolosi is to bring down disaster upon oneself. If once you offend him, or he is commanded to injure you, he will hunt you down remorselessly until his object is accomplished. During the day he generally remains hidden in the corner of the witch doctor's hut, behind the enormous juala pots, where it is so dark that he is unseen by even the sharpest eyes. If by any unfortunate chance you meet him at night, you must neither point at him nor speak to him.

Whether there really are creatures in any way answering to the description of these little people or not I cannot say. My own belief is that these doctors keep Bushmen who act the part and impose upon the superstitions of the Basuto, for there certainly is some truth at the bottom of it all, as I can prove from personal experience.

Some years ago, before I knew of the existence of Thokolosi, I was obliged to go to our cowshed rather late one evening to investigate the disturbance amongst the cows. The moon was nearly full at the time, and was shining brightly. The shed was at the bottom of our garden, some little way from the house. I went, accompanied by my native nurse girl and our big black retriever. Nothing occurred until we were returning, when suddenly we heard what I took to be a dog running from the Residency through the dead leaves in the garden towards us. I had barely said "What's that?" when we heard the "ping" of the wire fence, and saw, crossing the path, not a dozen yards in front of us, a little black creature about the size and shape of a boy of six. The night being very clear and bright there was no mistaking the fact that it was a human form of some sort. It ran with a peculiar shuffle, moving its head from side to side, straight through our garden into the darkness beyond. When my girl saw it she caught hold of me in terror, but uttered no word. The dog, on the contrary, gave vent to a sound half growl, half howl, and tore off to the house, where we followed as quickly as possible, and found him under my little son's bed, from whence he refused to stir. This was to my mind conclusive proof that I had not been "imagining things," as was said to me when I described what had occurred; for the dog is a really plucky one, and I had never seen him afraid before. My girl then told me we had seen "Thokolosi."

There is yet another evil influence called Moloi. He is in reality a "doctored" Mosuto, whose fate it is to kill the enemies of his clan or chief. When he is a child a deep wound is cut in his back near the spine; into this is rubbed a "medicine" composed of the necessary parts of a human body and various herbs. When this "medicine" influences him, he shuns his fellow-creatures, discards his clothing, and remains out in the veldt all night. His first duty is to kill a relation of his own, as, until he has done so, he can have no heart, no soul. He may be, and often is, extremely reluctant to do such a thing; but, sooner or later, the fever in his blood (the power of the medicine) will compel him to do the foul deed, after which his body finds rest, the fever leaves him, and he becomes a peaceable mortal once more, until the time comes when Moloi takes the place of the man, and he is ready for any deed, however brutal. Of course, many of these old superstitions and customs are dying out, but they are by no means altogether dead. They are, however, kept as much as possible in the background, and the whole country is making really wonderful strides towards civilization.

Before going to fight, the chief summoned all his warriors to his village, merely telling them to come supplied with "lipabi." This conveyed the desired meaning to them, and they secretly prepared their weapons of war, and ordered their women-folk to prepare the "lipabi," which is merely roast mealies ground to a powder and mixed with sugar or salt. This is the only food carried during the campaign by a Mosuto warrior. Towards sunset they arrived at their chief's village and prepared to kill the sacrifice. This must be a bull in good condition, and the manner of his death is particularly brutal. The unfortunate animal is driven into a secluded spot some distance from the village, the whole "army" accompanying it. (In cases where several chiefs combine against a common foe, each calls his own men, offers his own sacrifices of one or more bulls according to the number of warriors, and has his own separate war-dance.) Of course the "Ngaka" (doctor) is also present. When it is time to kill the bull, the oldest and bravest warriors step forward armed with three assegais each, which they throw in turn at the quivering, maddened animal, until at last one proves more merciful than its predecessors, and puts an end to the poor brute's sufferings; but on no account must death occur too quickly. As soon as it was dead, it was skinned, and the meat, partially cooked, was divided amongst the company, nothing but the skin and the bare bones being allowed to remain. "Mogobelo" (the war dance) then began, the warriors presenting a most grotesque appearance, with their faces and bodies smeared with red and white clay, ox tails suspended round their waists, and from elbows, knees, and often shoulders, their ox hide oblong shields in one hand, an assegai in the other, and head-dresses of every shape and form on their heads.

The doctor had already prepared a spot, and round this they danced, growing more and more excited as the night advanced. Every now and then a warrior would break through the circle into the centre, where he would stamp and shout out the number of foes he had killed in battle, and how and where he had killed them, striking his assegai into the ground for every slain foe.

At daybreak they were all "doctored," and at once set out for the battle-field. As far as I can learn, they had not any recognised order of advance, but merely did so en masse, until within a few hundred yards of the advancing foe. Each side then halted, while from their ranks advanced one of the bravest of their warriors, who in stately manner proceeded to cross the intervening space. Upon his arrival he joined the ranks of the enemy. Whichever warrior succeeded in reaching the foe first, enabled his side to commence the attack.

In former days the warriors were armed only with assegais, battle-axes, shields, and clubs; but now every Mosuto of any standing possesses a firearm of some sort, consequently their method of fighting has undergone considerable changes. They are by no means deadly shots, and would have small chance of success against an European foe in the open; but could give a pretty good account of themselves in the wilds and fastnesses of their own land.

Some of the quaint proverbs, doings, and sayings of the Basuto deserve mention. For instance, it is not correct to pass behind any one, even in a large assembly. It is looked upon as a moral stab in the back. Neither is it correct to insult a foe in the presence of others, the proverb being, "If you prick an enemy with a two-pointed assegai, it will hurt you as well."

When a special blessing is given, the saying is, "May your feet go softly all your days, and may your face be as the Morning Sun!" In times of peace their greeting to a stranger is, "We welcome you. We are sitting down building houses."

Another proverb is, "One hand washes another." Again, when wishing to praise another, "You have taken the wedge from between my teeth." To one in trouble the greeting is, "The Mother of Consolation comfort you."

Another is, "Break not your heart, sorrow will roll away like mists at sunrise." When any one is dying, they say, "It is not a person. It is only the grave of one."