Give me my daughter.' They struggled together.

Some cried 'Kill him,' and some (but they were not near enough) strove to trample him to death.

Tug as he would at the old man's wrists, the hangman could not force him to unclench his hands.
'Is this all the return you make me, you ungrateful monster ?' he articulated with great difficulty, and with many oaths.
'Give me my daughter!' cried the locksmith, who was now as fierce as those who gathered round him: 'Give me my daughter!' He was down again, and up, and down once more, and buffeting with a score of them, who bandied him from hand to hand, when one tall fellow, fresh from a slaughter-house, whose dress and great thigh-boots smoked hot with grease and blood, raised a pole-axe, and swearing a horrible oath, aimed it at the old man's uncovered head.

At that instant, and in the very act, he fell himself, as if struck by lightning, and over his body a one-armed man came darting to the locksmith's side.

Another man was with him, and both caught the locksmith roughly in their grasp.
'Leave him to us!' they cried to Hugh--struggling, as they spoke, to force a passage backward through the crowd.