In his right hand was a huge spear, about the neck a thick torque of gold, and bound on the forehead shone dully a single and enormous uncut diamond.
Still there was silence; but not for long.

Presently the man, whom we rightly guessed to be the king, raised the great javelin in his hand.
Instantly eight thousand spears were lifted in answer, and from eight thousand throats rang out the royal salute of "_Koom_." Three times this was repeated, and each time the earth shook with the noise, that can only be compared to the deepest notes of thunder.
"Be humble, O people," piped out a thin voice which seemed to come from the monkey in the shade, "it is the king." "_It is the king_," boomed out the eight thousand throats in answer.
"_Be humble, O people, it is the king._" Then there was silence again--dead silence.

Presently, however, it was broken.

A soldier on our left dropped his shield, which fell with a clatter on to the limestone flooring.
Twala turned his one cold eye in the direction of the noise.
"Come hither, thou," he said, in a cold voice.
A fine young man stepped out of the ranks, and stood before him.
"It was thy shield that fell, thou awkward dog.

Wilt thou make me a reproach in the eyes of these strangers from the Stars?
What hast thou to say for thyself ?" We saw the poor fellow turn pale under his dusky skin.
"It was by chance, O Calf of the Black Cow," he murmured.
"Then it is a chance for which thou must pay.