At 7 a.m. the ganger, a man who has worked in the ruins for Bent, Willoughby, and Schlichter, comes to the hut door to report that the men are now ready to start work. Then follows the roll-call, each raising his hand and passing on one side to a separate group as his name is read out. A boy absent for two days on account of alleged sickness is reported to have gone to a distant kraal to attend a “beer dance” where he danced the whole night through. A fine is entered against him. Makalanga split on one another in a fashion which English schoolboys would never permit. Our fines are rarely enforced, but the mere entering them in the book has a most wholesome effect. One feature in the roll-call generally strikes visitors as interesting, that is, the rhythmic sound of the names of the boys. To an Englishman these names would appear to be more suitable for girls than for men. In fact, all the names of the men are pretty, so pretty that it seems inappropriate to apply them to great fellows like some of our labourers. But like their ideally graceful and poetic gestures, while pronouncing each other’s names they unconsciously manage to throw into the pronunciation a delicate softness, rhythm of intonation, and charm of expression that are rather fascinating to the European listener. An Englishman totally unacquainted with the local language, and wrongly pronouncing the names, could not rob them of their poetry. The roll completed, all set off in Indian file either to the Elliptical Temple or the Acropolis, singing in chorus in a Tyrolese style, one man giving the recitative, which is almost always of a purely extempore and local character. When once within the ruins, blankets are thrown off and the forty boys make, with a background of light-coloured, lichen-draped walls, a dark mass of humanity, for, save their insignificant aprons fastened with a bark string to their waists, and their necklaces of blue beads and amulets, and brass bangles on arm and leg, they are practically naked, and the sun shines on their glossy chocolate-tinted skins as on burnished metal. The Makalanga have exceedingly strong social instincts, and prefer to work together in one mass even in a small area. To separate them into small gangs would mean little or no work done.