the centre arch, an eminent position, which allowed him for a moment to
keep them at bay, and gave him breathing time. Suddenly he made a
desperate charge, clove the head of the leader of the band in two, and
beat them back several yards; then swiftly returning to his former
position, be summoned all his supernatural strength, and stamping on
the mighty, but mouldering keystone, he forced it from its form, and
broke the masonry of a thousand years. Amid a loud and awful shriek,
horses and horsemen, and the dissolving fragments of the scene for a
moment mingled as it were in airy chaos, and then plunged with a
horrible plash into the fatal depths below. Some fell, and, stunned by
the massy fragments, rose no more; others struggled again into light,
and gained with difficulty their old shore. Amid them, Iskander,
unhurt, swam like a river god, and stabbed to the heart the only strong
swimmer that was making his way in the direction of Epirus. Drenched
and exhausted, Iskander at length stood upon the opposite margin, and
wrung his garments, while he watched the scene of strange destruction.

Three or four exhausted wretches were lying bruised and breathless on
the opposite bank: one drowned horse was stranded near them, caught by
the rushes. Of all that brave company the rest had vanished, and the
broad, and blue, and sunny waters rushed without a shadow beneath the
two remaining arches.

"Iduna! thou art safe," exclaimed Iskander. "Now for Epirus!" So
saying, he seized the black mare, renovated by her bath and pasture,
and vaulting on her back, was in a few minutes bounding over his native
hills.