There was the usual herd of cattle grazing near at hand, but the place had an unaccountable forlorn look, and the small boy standing on an ant-hill to watch the cattle seemed too listless to be curious, and too indifferent to run away.

The big brown tetse flies, that crossed their wings when resting, were everywhere, making no noise at all, but announcing themselves every once in a while by a bite on the back of the hand that stung like a whip-lash.

They seemed to have special liking for coat-sleeves, and a dozen of them were generally riding on each side of me.

One could drive them off, but they came back at once, as horse-flies do when poked off with a whip.
When I drew near the village nobody came out to look at me, which was suspicious in itself.

Nobody shouted.