The priest of Hercules, finding himself disarmed, experienced a momentary qualm; he knew fear, believing himself in the presence of a superior being against whom his strength could not avail, and turning his back on Hannibal he fled toward Saguntum. The people on the walls seeing his peril called to him. Some drew their bows to stop Hannibal with their arrows, but they dared not shoot for fear of wounding Theron. The Saguntines breathed hard at seeing their Hercules flee, pursued by the warrior who was heading him off so that he should not reach the city.
The giant being heavy and muscular, ran with difficulty over the ground strewn as it was with dead and with the litter of the fight. He stumbled over a shield; his knees bent; he arose again; but this time completely nude. The lion skin had fallen from his shoulders, and lay among the wrack of battle.
His pursuer caught up to him. The giant felt the cold steel sink into the muscles of his back, and not caring to die like a fleeing slave in sight of his entire city he turned quickly, extending his columnar arms to crush his enemy between them; but before the two muscular masses could encircle and mangle him, Hannibal had buried his sword again and again in the side of the colossus, and Theron fell, pressing his hands against his wounds and gazing at his dark red blood.
He looked at Hannibal without anger, with a childlike expression of pain, and then he fixed his death-clouded eyes on the lofty Acropolis, where the roofs glistened in the sun.
"Father Hercules!" he murmured bitterly. "Why do you abandon your people?"
His enormous head raised a cloud of dust as it struck the ground. Hannibal bent over it and with his sword began to hew the robust neck, obliged to strike many blows to sever the network of corded tendons and stubborn muscles, which seemed to blunt the edge of the blade.
A cloud of arrows began to plow the ground roundabout Hannibal.
The chieftain removed his helmet, loosing his mass of curling hair; he grasped the head of Theron by its gory mane, and placing one foot in the attitude of conqueror upon the body of the priest, he showed it to the people on the walls.
He was magnificent with his sword in his right hand and holding out his other arm which sustained the head of the giant. The dark integument of his eyes, brilliant as the metal disks which hung from his ears, gleamed with pride and icy hate.
The Saguntines recognized the victor, and wails of surprise and peals of fury thundered along the wall.