Fully armed, the three brave men sprang to the end of the bridge farthest from the city, and flung defiance at Lars Porsenna and his great army.
The king and his army, seeing but three stalwart warriors, laughed them to scorn, yet ere long their scorn gave way to amazement.
Before the missiles hurled upon them, before the fiercest sword-thrusts, Horatius and his comrades stood dauntless and unafraid, while at their feet rose a ghastly heap of those the brave Romans slew.
And while they held the bridge thus resolutely, behind them fell the blows of mighty axes, loosening the great beams that held the bridge secure.
Soon the axes had done their work. The bridge began to totter, to sway, and the Romans shouted to the noble three to come back ere the bridge gave way.
At the call, Lartius and Herminius turned and darted swiftly across the swaying planks.
But Horatius stayed behind. Not till the bridge fell into the river would he stir from his post.
Then, with a mighty crash the bridge gave way, and fell into the rushing torrent beneath.
Horatius, separated from his friends, stood alone, facing thirty thousand of the foe. Behind him tossed the broad surging river.
‘“Down with him,” cried false Sextus,