"But what about the horse?" cried the rabble of Trojans. "What about the horse?"

"The horse," said Sinon, "wars built as the soothsayer, Calchas, had directed. Otherwise, the ships could never have sailed. There it is now, standing among the reeds. The soothsayers declared that it would carry happiness and prosperity and peace wherever it should go. But the Greeks were unwilling that it should ever be a benefit to Troy. Therefore they built it so wide and high that it cannot be taken through your gates. They placed it among the reeds by the shore, hoping that the waves might undermine it and carry it away to the deep sea."

"Ah, that is their plan is it?" cried the excited Trojans. "Well, we shall see whether Troy is not made happy and prosperous by such a piece of work." And, forgetting Sinon, the whole company, with the king's officer at its head, rushed madly to the spot where the great horse stood.

"Beware, my countrymen, beware!" cried the voice of old Laocoön, as he struggled through the crowd. "This is a trick of the Greeks. The horse will not bring you happiness and prosperity, but rather misery and ruin. Cast it into the sea, burn it to ashes, but do not receive it into the city."

With these words he hurled his spear at the huge image. The weapon struck it full in the breast, and those who stood nearest declared that they heard deep hollow groans and a sound like the rattle of shields issuing from the throat of the monster.

"To the sea with it! To the sea with it!" cried a few who believed in the old priest.

But the greater number shouted, "To the city with it! To the city with it! We will yet outwit the Greeks!"

Some ran to the city for ropes and wheels, and others hastened to make a breach in the wall large enough for the monster to pass through.

The followers of Laocoön were too few and feeble to object or resist; and the old priest, with his two sons as assistants, withdrew from the crowd and went out on the beach to offer a sacrifice to Apollo, as was the custom of his country. He had built an altar of smooth stones and was preparing the sacrifice, when fearful cries were heard among the people by the shore, and all fled away in a panic of terror. Laocoön, looking up, saw the cause of the alarm.

In the sea two huge serpents were swimming. They appeared to be coming from the island of Tenedos, four miles away, and they were approaching the beach with wondrous speed. No doubt Laocoön thought they were common water snakes and would not come upon the land; for, after watching them a moment, he turned again to his altar and began offering the sacrifice. Swift as light the serpents sped toward the shore. Rearing their heads high in the air, they emerged from the waves and glided over the sandy beach. Before Laocoön saw his danger, the slimy creatures had reached the altar. In another moment they had wrapped their horrid folds around the arms, the necks, the bodies of the unfortunate priest and his sons. Lifeless and crushed, the victims fell down beside the altar they had builded; and the serpents, as though satisfied with their work, glided away and hid themselves under some rocks where the Greeks had carved a figure of Athene.

The Trojans, who had watched this dreadful scene from a distance, stood for a while speechless with fear, not knowing who might be the next victims. At length, seeing that the serpents remained hidden, they began to breathe more freely; and, as their courage slowly returned, some among them cried out, "Behold how the mighty Athene has punished the man who dared to insult her by striking the great horse with his spear!"

"May such be the fate of all others who would oppose the will of the ever living powers!" cried a white-bearded soothsayer. "Let us offer thanks to our protector, the wise and kind Athene; and let us hasten to draw her horse into the city, where it can have the protection which is its due. Then shall Troy be forever blessed."

Forthwith the fears of the past hour were forgotten. All began to talk at the same time, and all were intent upon taking the great horse to the city as soon as possible. Ropes were fastened to its neck and forelegs. Wooden rollers were placed under each corner of the platform on which it stood. Men with axes and hoes ran forward to clear a trackway across the plain to the place in the city wall where the breach had been made. Then the strongest and most willing seized hold of the long ropes and began to pull. Others pushed against the hind part of the platform. Still others stood by and offered kind advice to the workers. Some prayed to Athene.

Slowly but steadily the multitude advanced across the plain, dragging the wonderful horse which they believed would bless the city. The sun had set before they passed through the breach in the wall; and the darkness of night was beginning to fall when the lumbering wheels ceased their noise. The great horse came to a standstill in a quiet corner close by the temple of Athene.

"My friends," said the king's officer, "we have done a fine day's work, and Athene's horse rests near the place where it shall remain. Now, indeed, the happiness of Troy is insured. Let every person depart to his own home; for to-night, the first time in ten years, we shall sleep in security, fearing no foe."

With joyful shouts and friendly good nights the crowd separated, and every man went quietly to his own house. Soon the city was wrapped in darkness, and the streets were silent and empty. And Athene's horse stood grim and gaunt and motionless beside the temple wall.

About midnight a man crept stealthily out of the temple and made his way to the breach in the wall. In one hand he carried a basket of pitch, in the other a small torch which he had lighted at the temple fire. With much caution he climbed to the top of the wall. He hid his torch in a cranny, and swung the basket of pitch by a chain on the outer edge of the stone coping. Then he sat still and waited. Soon the sky began to grow lighter and the shadows in the city less dark. Presently the moon rose, bright and round. The roofs of the houses, the broad top of the city wall, the dull, deserted plain, the silent sea—all were silvered over with her soft, mellow beams.

The man on the wall looked eagerly toward the sea. What were those dark objects which he saw moving swiftly over the water and drawing rapidly toward the shore? A thousand ships, black-hulled and low, driven by twenty thousand oars. The cunning Greeks had not started for home, as the Trojans foolishly believed. They had gone only to the island of Tenedos and had lain there all day, hidden in the coves and inlets of the reedy shore. Soon their vessels would again be drawn up in their old places by the deserted camp.

The man on the wall seemed to understand it all. He lifted the torch from its cranny and dropped it carefully into the basket of pitch. A lurid flame arose. As it lighted up the plain and the outside of the wall, it shone also upon the face of the man. His eyes were red, his face was wounded and swollen, the half of his left ear was gone. It was Sinon.

Lights were seen on the ships; and then Sinon hurried down to the spot where the great horse was standing silent in the moonlight. With the flat of his short sword, he struck its foreleg three times. There was a noise above as of the rattling of armor. Then a panel in the horse's breast slid aside. A man's head, encased in a gleaming helmet, appeared at the opening.

"Is all well, Simon?" asked a deep voice.

"All is well, Cousin Ulysses. Our ships are even now moored to the shore, and our friends are marching across the plain. The foolish Trojans lie sleeping in their homes, little dreaming of what awaits them."

A rope ladder was let down, and Ulysses descended to the ground. Then fifty other heroes followed him, seeming glad to be in the open air again.

"But, Sinon," said Ulysses, "what mean those scars on your face, those half-blind eyes, and that mangled ear? Did the Trojans abuse you thus?"

"They abused me, but they made not these wounds," answered Sinon. "I made them myself, that I might the more easily persuade them to fall into our trap."

"I understand, Sinon," said Ulysses. "People call me the man of wiles, but that title must now belong to you. And now, for the ending of the whole business! Follow me, my men, and let fire and sword do their worst!"

Why should I tell the rest? The Trojans awoke from their dreams of peace to see their homes in flames, to hear the shouts of the triumphant Greeks, to know that for them there was naught but captivity and sorrow and death. Thus the long siege came to an end, and thus the fair, rich city beyond the Ægean Sea was overthrown.