"And the Romans knew that they would kill them all if they once got across the bridge," continued the historian. "And they hurriedly talked about what it was best to do. And then one of them had a plan. He was a wonderfully brave and noble man, and he wasn't afraid of anything." "Bet he'd been scaret of a hyena," said the oldest Levi boy. "He was not afraid of anything. And this was his plan. He told the Romans that he would get two other men and alone they would cross the bridge and meet the enemy on the other side. This is what he said: "'Hew down the bridge, sir consul, With all the speed ye may; I, with two more to help me Will hold the foe in bay,-- In yon straight path a thousand May well be stopped by three. Now who will stand on either hand And keep the bridge with me?'" "Did they talk in po'try?" inquired Ginevra with awe. "Sometimes," said Miss Billy. "And two other brave men volunteered to go with him. The three crossed the bridge together, and boldly faced the army on the other side." The little Canarys showed signs of restlessness, and the young Murphys yawned, so Miss Billy went on hastily. "Of course there was a terrible battle there. Every time a man set foot on the bridge Horatius or one of his companions would rush upon him and slay him." "How? With a spearer?" inquired Aaron Levi with interest. The story teller nodded. "Till seven men lay dead, and Horatius himself was wounded in the shoulder. The big army stood still. Their chief was killed, and no soldier dared to move. Meanwhile the Romans had been at work at the bridge with their axes, and it hung over the river just ready to fall. The three men knew they must get back before it dropped. They started, but the great bridge cracked, and went down with a crash like thunder. Two of the men had time to get over safely, but Horatius was too late. He had darted back, and stood all alone on the bank of the river, with the enemy before him, and the broad river behind him. And then what do you think he did?" "Speared 'em some more," suggested Aaron Levi. "Died fer his country," quavered Ginevra. "Waded home," said Fridoline. "No, the water was too deep. He sheathed his sword, and faint and weary though he was, plunged into the raging flood." "Gee!" ejaculated Launcelot. "The water was very high, his armour was heavy, and his wound pained him severely; but he kept on. The blood ran down upon his hands, and he sank again and again; but he still swam on till not only the Romans, but the great army on the other bank cheered him and prayed for him. "And when he finally clambered out upon the shore, weary and weak and worn, they shouted and clapped their hands for very joy." The ringing words came involuntarily to Miss Billy's lips: