Suddenly these were hushed, so suddenly indeed as to be almost startling. For other voices were raised, coming from the stockade which railed in the _esibayaneni_--the _sanctum sanctorum_. They were those of the royal "praisers" stentoriously shouting forth the king's _sibonga_:-- "He comes--the Lion!"--and they roared. "Behold him--the Bull, the black calf of Matyobane!"--and at this they bellowed. "He is the Eagle which preys upon the world!"--here they screamed; and as each imitative shout was taken up by the armed regiments, going through every conceivable form of animal voice--the growling of leopards, the hissing of serpents, even to the sonorous croak of the bull-frog--the result was indescribably terrific and deafening. Then it ceased as suddenly as the war-song had ceased. The King had appeared. Advancing a few steps from the gateway, he paused and stood surveying the gathering. Then, cleaving the silence in thunder tones, there volleyed forth from every throat the salute royal-- "Kumalo!" Over the wide slopes without it rolled and echoed. Voices far and near--single voices, and voices in groups--the melodious voices of women at work in the cornfields--all who heard it echoed it back, now clear, now faint and mellowed by distance-- "_Kumalo_!" There was that in the aspect of the King as he stood thus, his massive features stern and gloomy as he frowned down upon those whose homage he was receiving, his attitude haughty and majestic to the last degree, which was calculated to strike awe into the white beholders if only through the consciousness of how absolutely they were in his power. He had discarded all European attempts at adornment, and was clad in nothing but the inevitable _mutya_ and a kaross made of the dressed skin of a lioness, thrown carelessly over his shoulders. His shaven head was surmounted just above the forehead by the small Matabele ring, a far less dignified-looking form of crest than the large Zulu one. Then, as he advanced a few steps further, with head thrown back, and his form, though bulky, erect and commanding, a more majestic-looking savage it would be hard to imagine. A massive chair, carved out of a single tree stump, was now set by one of the attendants, and as Lo Bengula enthroned himself upon it, again the mighty shouts of praise rent the air-- "Thou art the child of the sun!" "Blanket, covering thy people!" "King mountain of the Matopo!" "Elephant whose tread shaketh the world!" "Eater-up of Zwang'indaba!" "Crocodile, who maketh our rivers to flow clear water!" "Rhinoceros!" Such, and many more, were the attributes wherewith they hailed their monarch, who was, to all intents and purposes, their god. Then the chorus altered. A new and more ominous clamour now expressed its burden. It became hostile and bloodthirsty in intent towards the white strangers within their gates.