Hannibal, on foot, guided the phalanxes, which marched with lowered lance or lifted sword. He was fighting like a soldier, anxious to end this siege which was delaying his plans, believing this to be the decisive moment, and that a supreme effort might make him master of the city. With sharp words he encouraged the soldiers in the different idioms of their tribes, reminding them of the great riches within the city, of the beauty of the Greek women, of the large numbers of slaves inside those walls, and the Balearians attacked with lowered head, holding before them their wooden spears with points hardened by fire; the Celtiberians roared their war songs, beating on their breasts as on sonorous drums, drawing their sharp two-edged swords, and the Numidians and Mauritanians, dismounting from their horses, moved from place to place, cautious and sly, hurling upon the besieged the missiles which they carried in their girdles hidden beneath their white vestments. All in vain. The breach was a narrow throat. The Carthaginian army, in spite of superior numbers, had to contract its front to fight in such a constricted space, and in this equalizing of forces, the Saguntines retained an advantage, repelling the besiegers as often as they tried to climb over the mound formed by the fallen wall. Swords sunk into flesh producing atrocious wounds characteristic of ancient warfare; breasts were torn open by the brutal force of lances; combatants clinched entwining their arms like tendrils, linking their legs, making their panting chests wheeze like bellows, and rolling on the ground biting each other in the face. Often when the victor arose he proudly displayed a piece of bleeding flesh between his teeth. Hannibal's troops rushed up the mound like a hurricane, and on its approach the mass of defenders swayed, but none fell back; they must die firm at their post, for behind them was a compact multitude which forced them to be valiant, leaving no space for retreat. Thus the battle raged for hours. The mounds of dead between besieged and besieger made the advance difficult. The sun had sunk low in the west, and Hannibal was exasperated by the stubborn resistance which mocked his efforts. Still trusting in his lucky star he ordered the trumpets sounded for the final assault; but at that instant an unheard of thing occurred which disconcerted the chieftain and sowed confusion among his troops. Actæon did not know for a certainty whence came the voice. Perhaps it was an hallucination produced by faith; perhaps the invention of some enthusiast tired of being on the defensive. "The Romans!" shouted a voice. "Our allies are coming!"