The Scarecrow and His Servant
The Scarecrow and His Servant
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A tattered scarecrow stands in the middle of a muddy field, taking no notice of the violent thunderstorm around him. But when a bolt of lightning strikes him, fizzing its way through his turnip head and down his broomstick, the Scarecrow blinks with surprise–and comes to life.
So begins the story of the Scarecrow, a courteous but pea-brained fellow with grand ideas. He meets a boy, Jack, who becomes his faithful servant. Leaving behind his bird-scaring duties, the Scarecrow sets out for Spring Valley, with Jack at his side. As the valiant Scarecrow plunges them into terrifying dangers–battles, brigands, broken hearts, and treasure islands–he never realizes he’s being followed by the one family who desperately wishes he’d never sprung to life. Will the Scarecrow discover the secret to his past before the crooked Buffalonis close in on him?
From the Hardcover edition.
with his ladle. “At least he's the commanding officer. It's the sergeant who's in charge.” “Oh, right,” said Jack. “I don't suppose I could have a potato?” “Clear off! Get out of it!” Nearly howling with hunger, Jack tugged at the Scarecrow's sleeve. “We have to speak to the officer,” he explained. “This way, master.” The colonel was sitting on a canvas chair, trying to read a map upside down. “Colonel Bombardo, sir,” said Jack, “my master Lord Scarecrow wants to join your army. He's a good
hand and a large silver watch in the other. Jack watched the Scarecrow, and the Scarecrow watched the doctor, and the doctor watched the watch. After a minute the doctor solemnly declared, “This patient has no signs of life at all.” The Scarecrow let out a piercing yell. “Oh no! I'm dead! Help! Help!” “You can't be dead yet, master,” said Jack, “not if you're making a racket like that. Can't you find anything that you can cure, doctor?” “Dear me, this is a very bad case, a very poor case
carefully putting the little bird back into the nest. “Now you sit still,” he said sternly. “No more squirming, you understand? If you can't fly, don't squirm. When I see your parents, I shall have a word with them.” Then he began to clamber back down the wall. It looked so dangerous that Jack hardly dared watch, but finally the Scarecrow reached the floor again and brushed his hands firmly. “I thought the birds were your enemy, master,” said Jack. “Not the children, Jack! Good gracious me.
and yelled in mortal fear—and those who could still see a little saw the Scarecrow's great knobbly face coming toward them and scrambled even harder to get away— And no more than ten seconds later the brigands were all running away down the road, screaming with terror. Jack stood in the doorway in amazement, watching them disappear into the distance. “Well, master,” he said, “it happened just as you said it would.” “Timing, you see,” said the Scarecrow. “The secret of all good scaring. I
Scarecrow eagerly. He was pointing at a canvas booth where a carpenter was hammering some planks together to hold up a brightly painted picture of a wild landscape. “That's going to be a play,” said Jack. “That's called scenery. Actors come out in front of it and act out a story.” The Scarecrow's eyes were open as wide as they could go. He moved toward the booth as if he were being pulled on a string. There was a big, colorful poster nearby, and a man was reading it aloud for those people who