But they said he did not keep to the course. Then they
threw stones; and the Boy threw farther and straighter than any of
the rest. This made them angry.
Whispering together, they suddenly hurled a shower of stones at
him. One struck his shoulder, another made a long cut on his cheek.
Wiping away the blood with his sleeve, he turned silently and ran
to the Sheep Gate, the other boys chasing him with loud shouts.
He darted lightly through the crowd of animals and people that
thronged the gateway, turning and dodging with a sure foot among
them and running up the narrow street that led to the sheep-market.
The cries of his pursuers grew fainter behind him. Among the stalls
of the market he wound this way and that way like a hare before
the hounds. At last he had left them out of sight and hearing.
Then he ceased running and wandered blindly on through the northern
quarter of the city. The sloping streets were lined with bazaars and
noisy workshops. The Roman soldiers from the castle were sauntering
to and fro. Women in rich attire, with ear-rings and gold chains,
passed by with their slaves.
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