But there, in the midst, towering above them all, close before the house they were attacking now, was Hugh on horseback, calling to the rest! Sickened by the sights surrounding him on every side, and by the heat and roar, and crash, he forced his way among the crowd (where many recognised him, and with shouts pressed back to let him pass), and in time was nearly up with Hugh, who was savagely threatening some one, but whom or what he said, he could not, in the great confusion, understand.
At that moment the crowd forced their way into the house, and Hugh--it was impossible to see by what means, in such a concourse--fell headlong down.
Barnaby was beside him when he staggered to his feet.

It was well he made him hear his voice, or Hugh, with his uplifted axe, would have cleft his skull in twain.
'Barnaby--you! Whose hand was that, that struck me down ?' 'Not mine.' 'Whose!--I say, whose!' he cried, reeling back, and looking wildly round.

'What are you doing?
Where is he?
Show me!' 'You are hurt,' said Barnaby--as indeed he was, in the head, both by the blow he had received, and by his horse's hoof.

'Come away with me.' As he spoke, he took the horse's bridle in his hand, turned him, and dragged Hugh several paces.

This brought them out of the crowd, which was pouring from the street into the vintner's cellars.
'Where's--where's Dennis ?' said Hugh, coming to a stop, and checking Barnaby with his strong arm.