Wide-eyed, they followed the perilous antics of Dexter as he issued from the alley gate, and they screamed with childish delight when the spurs had recalled to his memory that far-off dreadful day with the busy bees.

They now balanced precariously on the alley fence, the better to trace Merton's flight through the dust cloud.
"Merton's in a runaway, Merton's in a runaway, Merton's in a runaway!" they shrieked, but with none of the sympathy that would have become them.

They appeared to rejoice in Merton's plight.

"Merton's in a runaway," they joyously chanted.
Suddenly they ceased, frozen with a new and splendid wonder, for their descriptive phrase was now inexact.

Merton was no longer in a runaway.
But only for a moment did they hesitate before taking up the new chant.
"Looky, looky.