When dawn broke on December 15, 1914, a heavy mist hung over the river, but the Serbians knew with accuracy the location of the pontoon bridge. All during the previous day and during the night the retreating Austrians had been crowding over this bridge to escape into Austrian territory. At first the retirement had been orderly, but later in the day, as the news from the front became more serious, as the low, distant roar of rifle and machine gun rolled nearer, the movement increased in intensity, and, during the night, developed into a hurried scamper. Cannon were unlimbered and thrown into the river, and troops fought among themselves over the right of way along the narrow plank walk. In the midst of this confusion, while yet thousands of the invaders were still on the Serbian side of the river, just as dawn was breaking, there came a deep report, the hissing of a flying steel missile, and a shell dropped in the middle of one of the pontoon supports, hurling timber and human beings up into the air. The confusion now became a wild panic. Some tried to return to the Serbian shore, others fought on. Dozens of the struggling figures rolled over the side of the bridge into the eddying currents of the waters. Again came the dull, heavy report, then another and another, followed by the screeching overhead. Shells dropped into the water on all sides. And then another bomb burst on the pontoon where the first shell had landed. Even the roar of the shouting soldiers could not be heard above the crashing of timbers, the snapping of mooring chains. The bridge swayed, then caved in, where the pontoon had been struck and was sinking. Between the two broken-off ends, still crowded with struggling humanity, rushed the turbid current of the river. The last road to safety had been cut. Presently the fog lifted and revealed a long line of retreating Austrians, reaching down the road toward Obrenovatz, still heading desperately for the bridge, as unconscious of its destruction as a line of ants whose hill has been trampled in by a cow's hoof. But they were not long to remain unconscious of the fact that they were now prisoners of war. CHAPTER LIX SERBIANS RETAKE THE CITY--END OF THIRD INVASION As the sun rose on December 15, 1914, the Serbian cavalry, accompanied by King Peter, swept down from the heights of Torlak and entered the streets of the capital. A volley from the remnant of a Hungarian regiment met them. The cavalrymen dismounted and began driving the Magyars down the streets, from one square to another. And while this fight, an armed riot rather than a military action, was going on, finally to end in the practical slaughter of all the Hungarians who would not surrender, the king entered the cathedral of his capital to celebrate a Mass of thanksgiving for the deliverance of his kingdom from the hands of the enemy. And even as the Mass ended, stray shots echoed through the streets of the city still.