Our harvest is ruined, and there is but little corn left in the storepits now when we looked to gather the new grain.

Messengers come in from the outlying land telling us that nearly all the sheep and goats and very many of the cattle are slain.

Soon we shall starve." "As you deserve to starve," I answered.

"Now--will you let us go ?" Simba stared at me doubtfully, then began to whisper into the ear of the lamed diviner.

I could not catch what they said, so I watched their faces.