At nine o’clock all was still and restful. There were no signs whatever of the forthcoming festivities. Passing through Baranazimba’s kraal, on the way to Havilah Camp at Zimbabwe, one found the population had retired to rest. At Mogabe’s kraal the only sign of active life was shown by the village dogs. The night was hot and close, and outside the huts natives were sleeping, each in his blanket. Arrived at Havilah Camp, one found a score of labourers, sublimely free from all anxieties, sleeping on the bare granite outside their huts, but so oppressive was the air that in their slumbers they had thrown off their blankets, and were lying in every conceivable posture, and snoring and talking in their sleep as if dancing and beer-drinking were matters that had not the slightest interest for them. The large full moon was yet some distance from its zenith, but the valleys were flooded with a greenish-grey mistiness, which lay over the high grass and ran up into the kloofs and gorges. The light made distant objects distinctly visible, throwing a mantle of romance over every clump, ridge, and kopje, while it was possible to read tolerably small print without the aid of artificial light. [Illustration: CONICAL TOWER AND PLATFORM (LOOKING SOUTH), ELLIPTICAL TEMPLE, ZIMBABWE] [Illustration: THE BALCONY, EASTERN TEMPLE, ACROPOLIS THE PARAPET IS BUILT UPON THE SUSPENDED BOULDER] For fully another hour the silence was unbroken. At last the desultory beating of a village drum at Mogabe’s kraal was heard. Later a drum was sounded at Chenga’s kraal, and another at Bingura’s kraal. The villagers were waking up for the feast. One of our labourers sat up, stretched himself and yawned, and commenced shaking his sleeping comrades. Within a few minutes Havilah Camp was all life. One native reached for his leggings of large nuts with dried kernels inside, others a horn, flute, piano, or harp, but all took two knobkerries, some having assegais. Those who possessed strings of wild-cat tails tied them round their waists. The early hours of evening had been devoted to greasing their bodies and limbs, and in the light of the moon their skins shone like burnished metal. Then began a general practising of dance steps, leapings, war-cries, and most hideous howlings. Meanwhile quite a dozen drums were being sounded up on Mogabe’s Kopje, and these were answered by similar numbers at Chenga’s and the other kraals. Horns were blown, parties of Makalanga, singing and shouting, were passing along the native tracks in front of our camp, each party going to its own kraal. Soon our labourers left in gangs for their respective villages and disappeared in the long mist-covered grass. Being all young men with a superabundant fund of spirits, they made a most fearful din in the course of their progress homewards. By this time the Zimbabwe kopjes resounded with singing, especially of girls’ singing, for the women-folk started the