One-half of the boy's face was covered with blood, emanating from one
of his squinting eyes.
This time the interruption did not go unnoticed, and while the
distracted workmen finished unloading the caravan, with many a turn of
the head, the team of boys that Prut had organized had worked their way
through the courtyard and outlying structures as they called anxiously
to and fro to one-another, and rapidly expanded the territory of their
searches. Others ran out both the front and rear gates and could be
heard out in the fields, shouting to one another as they went about
poking and beating at the bushes with long sticks.
Finally the hue and cry went up from a number of them, and a concerted
chase ensued. Presently, they returned through the rear gates with two
of the biggest boys half-walking and half-dragging a lone struggling
boy, holding the unwilling youngster firmly by the upper arms and hair
to keep him from getting away again.
Habrunt came over and stood listening to them all arguing, and finally
raised his finger and pointed at Prut with a terse word to stand guard
while he turned and marched with an ominously slow, deliberate
reluctance across the courtyard towards Master Rababull. A sense of
dread fell upon the entire assembly, and gradually all fell silent,
watching as Habrunt resolutely approached Master Rababull.
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