See, here is the pack to speak for itself.

For shame to mar a merry holiday in this unmannerly fashion! No; I will not give him up! Ye are no better than a pack of howling, ravening wolves.

I am the Lord of Chad, and I will see that no violence is done this day.

Back to your sports, ye unmannerly knaves.

Are ye fit for nothing but to set upon one helpless man and worry him as dogs worry their helpless prey ?" Howls, execrations, oaths followed freely; but the village people were to a man with their young lord, and the scions of Mortimer felt it by instinct.
"Who is he?
Whence came he ?" was being asked on all sides; but none could give an answer.