Our path led down a slight valley from East Ruins to the Mapudzi stream, and here the Beroma was found not to be such an obstacle to our progress as was at first imagined, for on its west side is a broad defile leading up to the ledge of land a third way between the base and summit of the range, and at the top of the defile, and a hundred yards to the left, is a well-built ruin which guards the approach up the defile. Chenga’s Ruin, as it is called, occupies a position well chosen for defensive purpose, and presents several good architectural and constructive features. Here the coastward-bound convoy would first realise they had quite left Zimbabwe behind them, and would start to count the fifteen to twenty days of their tedious and, no doubt, highly dangerous journey to the sea, which should bear them in their gold-laden argosies homewards, either to the port of Eudaemon (the present Aden), or to the _Moscha_ (“harbour”) of Ophir, metropolis of the ancient Sabæans, or else, if later, to Ezion-Geber, the Jewish and Phœnician port on the Red Sea during the reign of King Solomon. Chenga’s Ruin is outside the Zimbabwe ruins’ area, and is the first posting station on the road to Sofala. In 1540 the Moslem Arab traders in gold and ivory informed the Portuguese that the journey from Sofala to Zimbabwe required from fifteen to twenty days (twelve to fifteen miles a day), so that the later Arabs must have travelled on foot taking native carriers. They too may have used as caravansaries the line of ancient forts that stretches from Zimbabwe towards Sofala along rivers whose valleys form the natural outlet to the coast for the populations of Southern Rhodesia, for they could thus find admirable protection at easy intervals for the night, or halt within the walls built, possibly, by their remote ancestors. So the ancients leaving Chenga’s Ruin might know they had at least fifteen days of tramping ahead of them, for no evidence of their employing oxen, horses or camels, or any wheeled vehicles, has come to light. The journey may have even been longer, owing to the delays of the slave gangs and carriers with their burdens of gold and ivory, and to the caution needed in passing through a land clearly shown by the protecting forts to have been hostile territory. The weary stretch of the Sabi Valley lay before them—Sabi, a name which students of Chicaranga and of other native languages state has no known derivation, and of which the natives emphatically affirm “It is but a name. It means nothing to us.” It has therefore been repeatedly conjectured that the name Sabi, Sabæ, or Saba has a connection with the river with which they must have been very well acquainted. From scriptural accounts we find that such duplication of names of places was a practice of the old Semitic peoples, as in Havilah, the local and pastoral country, and Havilah, the foreign and mineralised country, in a superlative sense the gold