But Mogabe is in my good books, for he gave me permission to move some Makalanga graves made in certain of the passages on the Acropolis. Bent merely told Chipfuno that he was going to move the selfsame graves, and he at once withdrew all the labourers, and this not only caused Bent considerable difficulty, but he was not afterwards allowed to open the passages. Twelve years later Mogabe gives his consent on the understanding that he is given half a cup of salt, that the remains were to be properly re-interred, and that the boys who did the work should be allowed to go to their kraals to purify themselves. This purification is no mere excuse, but is an actual cleansing of those engaged in this particular undertaking. The boys informed me that until they had washed they could not eat, and that their fellows would keep away from them. The bones were not touched by hand, but were moved with two sticks. Once I picked up a solid copper bangle, which must have come, judging by the presence of scattered human bones, from some grave disturbed years previously by some excavator for relics. The boys were genuinely horrified when I touched it, but more so when I put it on my wrist. They said I must take it off at once and wash myself, and this horror at what I had done possessed them for several days and was a constant theme of conversation. _Tjiya!_ (cease work!) is sounded, and the boys take up the cry, and spring like chased buck helter-skelter through the western entrance into the hot, sultry atmosphere, singing, laughing, yelling, and caterwauling, just like boys let out of school. The relentlessly broiling heat and glare of noontide make one long for the beautifully cool shade of the huts. Arrived at the camp, some of the boys lie at full length on the hot boulders and so take sun-baths, others resume their own carving or other work, some make music, or play with dollasses, or fence, while the majority gather round the various sets of game-holes and play _isafuba_, but there is a camp rule, found by experience to be necessary, that _isafuba_ cannot be played until the cooks state that the pots have commenced to boil. So fascinating is this game that formerly we found the cooking operations often became neglected. _Isafuba_ is one of a group of games, the origin of which is explained on pages 79, 80 of _The Ancient Ruins of Rhodesia_. In our camp are several sets of game-holes; one set has four rows of sixteen holes each, and another two rows of twelve holes. This last is generally patronised by the picaninnies. Some of the _isafuba_ games have different moves, numbers of holes and counters, and the games vary slightly in different districts.