Next there came along a poor little lizard home by eager and willing--I had almost said hands--pincers. Here a pair were fixed in, there another pair. Everywhere that a pair of pincers could find a grip there was the pair. I pulled the lizard out but it was quite dead. So I pushed it back into the excited line and it was soon on the march again. After a little there came past a curious round little object into which dozens of ants were sticking and which with ants swarming atop was being carried along with the stream. I rescued this strange thing too, because I was anxious to find out what it was--the thing inside this living ball of ants. One of the boys got a basin of water and plumped the ball into it, and with a piece of wood scraped the angry insects and frothy-looking stuff off. Then there was revealed a tiny toad which the boys called “Nantuzi.” It was just like a little bag with four legs, one at each corner. When annoyed it swells itself up like a ball and refuses to budge. When seized by the ants it had promptly covered itself with a frothy, sticky spittle, and so was little hurt. Had I not rescued it, however, it would have been eaten at last overcome by numbers. Then I got tired watching, and left the never-ending ant army still on the march. CHAPTER V THE AFRICAN CHILD Inside such a house as has been described, and in many a smaller one, are born the children of Africa. At first and for a few days they are not black. I am told they are pink in colour and quite light, but that they soon darken. The mothers and grandmothers are very pleased to welcome new babies and bath and oil them carefully. Nearly all the women one meets about a village have children tied on their backs, or are followed by them toddling behind. These mites glisten in the sun as they are well oiled to keep their skins in good condition. In some tribes very little children have no names. You ask the mother of an infant what she calls her baby, and she replies, “Alibe dzina”--It has no name. I once asked the father of a plump little infant what the name of his child was. He told me that it had not been named yet but that when the child would begin to smile and recognise people it would get a name. “Well,” I said, “when he smiles call him Tommy.” Months after I saw the child again, a fine boy he was too, and Tommy was his name. But alas! Tommy did not live more than two years. He took some child trouble and died. [Illustration: HIS FIRST SUIT]