Being broken by fatigue, breathless, and covered with dust and sweat, he threw himself on one of the benches placed against the wall, outside the house.

Here he was wounded by a musket bullet, but not killed.

At the sight of his blood shrieks of joy were heard, and then a young man with a pistol in each hand forced his way through the throng and killed the old man by two shots fired point blank in his face.
"Another still more atrocious murder took place in the course of the same morning.

A father and son, bound back to back, were delivered over to the tender mercies of the mob.

Stoned and beaten and covered with each other's blood, for two long hours their death-agony endured, and all the while those who could not get near enough to strike were dancing round them.
"Our time passed listening to such stories; suddenly I saw a friend running towards the house.