As it happened, the sentence of the court was never pronounced. Paul suddenly started to his feet, crying, “What’s that?” Bunny also sprang up. From the direction of Mrs. Groarty’s house had come a clamor of voices, rising above the pounding of hammers and the sounds of labor in the neighborhood. The yells grew louder, and yet louder, and the boys dashed to the open window of the house. Everybody in the room was on his or her feet, and all seemed to be shouting at once. It was impossible to see many in the crowd, but two men close by the window made a little drama all by themselves. They were Mr. Sahm, the plasterer, owner of one of the “little little lots,” and Mr. Hank, the ex-goldminer, owner of one of the “big little lots”; they were shaking their fists at each other, and Mr. Sahm, the party of the first part, was shouting at Mr. Hank, the party of the second part, “You’re a dirty, lying, yellow skunk!” To which the party of the second part answered, “Take that, you white-livered puppy!” and hit the party of the first part, Biff! a crack on the nose. The party of the first part countered with a nasty uppercut to the jaw of the party of the second part, Bang! And so they went to it, Biff, bang! Bang, biff!—and the two boys gazed through the open window, horrified, enraptured. Whoopee! A scrap! IX There was a general appearance as if everybody in the room were fighting; but that could not have been the case, for there were several left to separate Messrs. Sahm and Hank, and to shove them into opposite corners. Before this process was entirely completed, Bunny heard a voice calling his name from the front of the house. “All right, Dad!” he answered, and ran to meet his father. The three men of the Ross party were descending the front steps, and proceeding down the walk. “Come on,” said the father; “we’re a-goin’ back to the hotel.” “Gee, Dad! What happened?” “They’re a bunch of boobs, and you can’t do anything with them. I wouldn’t take their lease if they offered it as a gift. Let’s get out of here.” They were walking towards their car, which was parked a little way down the road. Suddenly Bunny halted. “Oh, Dad,” he cried; “wait just a minute! Please, Dad, there’s a boy I met, and I want to tell him something. Wait for me, please!” “Well, be quick,” said Dad. “I got another lease to see about tonight.” Bunny raced back, as fast as his legs could move. A panic had seized him. “Paul! Paul!” he shouted. “Where are you?” There was no sound, and no sign of the other boy. Bunny ran to the wood-shed, he ran all the way round the house, shouting, “Paul! Paul!” He dashed into the screen-porch, and opened the back door, and peered into the empty, white-enameled kitchen; he ran back to the wood-shed, and then to the garage in front of it; he stood gazing across the dark cabbage fields and calling at the top of his lungs: “Paul! Paul! Where are you? Please don’t go away!” But there was no reply.