I think, taking all in all, the lectures were the most popular items on the list. Sometimes we had one every day, generally after dinner—which is about the sleepiest time of the day in a hot country. Snorers weren't liked; they disturbed both lecturer and audience. Apart from the value of the lecture itself one was always sure of a quiet, after-dinner smoke. Yes, I fancy those pow-wows ranked first in popularity. Then there was bomb making and throwing. There is a lot of excitement to be got out of that racket—especially when you go in for experimental work. Some of our home-made bombs were fearsome contraptions. Most of us had quite a number of narrow shaves, and even the niggers, keen as they were to sell their oranges, wouldn't come within coo-ee of our mob when engaged in bomb-throwing operations. They knew a thing or two, did those niggers. I almost forgot to mention field geometry. I fancy it about divided favour with bomb-work as an occupation. For one thing, it was more restful and distinctly quieter; for another, it was a jolly sight safer. You could sit down on the sand, when it wasn't too hot, and get right into field geometry without having to keep your ears open for a constantly recurring yell of: "Look out, boys! Here she goes!" or—"Duck, damn you! I've got a whole slab in her!" Once or twice during our training we had a written examination covering the work, both practical and theoretical, we had done; and the examining officer smiled on us like a tabby with new kittens when he came to read our papers. Joking apart, he was more than pleased, and he didn't forget to tell us so. This sort of thing may strike the reader as a bit far-fetched—sort of blowing one's own trumpet; but if the said reader will pause to consider the class of men that composed our company he will be bound in common fairness to admit that I am not straining things too much. Colonial training, I reckon, isn't the worst preparation for most branches of the service; it turns out _men_ anyway. And you don't run across illiterates in the colonies—even way back in the Never-Never. Once or twice we took part in field manœuvres—or Divisional Training, to use the proper term. For our little lot such things usually meant hard graft with the pick and shovel plus a lot of tough marching. The fun seemed to go to the infantry and mounted men—if there was any fun in the game. Sometimes we were out for only a single day, but it mostly worked out at a night and a day. Once we were away from camp for five days and nights. In all cases actual war conditions were observed.