Then a great roaring laugh burst from the biggest of the footmen as he came shouldering his way through the crowd toward Curdie.
'Yes, I'm right,' he cried; 'I thought as much! This messenger, forsooth, is nothing but a gallows bird--a fellow the city marshal was going to hang, but unfortunately put it off till he should be starved enough to save rope and be throttled with a pack thread.

He broke prison, and here he is preaching!' As he spoke, he stretched out his great hand to lay hold of him.

Curdie caught it in his left hand, and heaved his mattock with the other.

Finding, however, nothing worse than an ox hoof, he restrained himself, stepped back a pace or two, shifted his mattock to his left hand, and struck him a little smart blow on the shoulder.

His arm dropped by his side, he gave a roar, and drew back.
His fellows came crowding upon Curdie.