The boys when working well will in a day do about as much work as a quarter of the same number of English labourers. They are inclined to be industrious when the _Baba_ is in sight, but they immediately drop down on their haunches with knees up the moment his back is turned. This is a moral certainty. Then singing ceases, for when working they are always singing. Any excuse for a passing diversion is immediately seized upon. On the shout of _inyoga_ (snake) they drop their tools at once, seize their knobkerries and jump into the jungle heedless for the time being of thorns and creepers. In respect of snakes they are not cowards. Inside the bush a perfect pandemonium is going on which never ceases till either the snake, generally a python or a black mamba, has been slain or has escaped into some pile of ancient blocks. Another day, after a brief absence from the temple, I found about forty women and girls from Mogabe’s kraal had arrived in the temple to watch their sons, brothers, and sweethearts at work. This they frequently do. The boys on this occasion, believing _Baba_ to be further off than he really was, were chasing the dusky Cleopatras up and down the parallel passages, in and out of the enclosures, and dodging them round the base of the Sacred Cone. One burly Junoesque, bead-and-bangle-bedecked mother was having a most delirious and frantic ride round the temple courts in our only wheelbarrow, which is an iron one. As the barrow bumped along at full tilt against the stones it would each time shake her up terribly. The shrieking, screaming, and laughter of the girls and the yelling of the boys made the temple ring with a noise sufficient to make the priests of the ancient Phallic cult whirl in their graves with horror. But—_Baba!_ and in thirty seconds the boys were all hard at work with most pious looks on their faces, and singing a well-known mission hymn. These great, fine-grown, frank-looking fellows, with their enviable ivories and provokingly pleasant smiles, are far worse than little children to manage. Their characters are perfectly riddled with frivolity, and their minds astonishingly mercurial. Every incident they notice is to them humorous, even the preservation work at the ruins is regarded by them as a sheer waste of time. Not one of them if he tried hard could keep silence for two minutes together. He must either talk, laugh, sing, whistle, or perform some absurd antic. Their utter guilelessness and naïve simplicity are in many respects both surprising and entertaining. To blame them before their fellows kills what little spirit they possess for work, while praise, even though barely merited, will cause them to redouble their efforts. To be in the slightest degree friendly or familiar with them is to completely destroy one’s influence over them; the granting them any favour is regarded by them as an undoubted sign of the donor’s weakness, and of the virtue of gratitude they are absolutely destitute.