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"This wicked deed will cost you your throne, as well as
much suffering, for my friends will avenge my
destruction."
"Your friends are not here, nor will they know what I
have done to you, when you are gone and can-not tell
them," answered the King in a scornful voice.
Then he ordered the Scarecrow bound to a stout stake
that he had had driven into the ground, and the materials
for the fire were heaped all around him. When this had
been done, the King's brass band struck up a lively tune
and old Googly-Goo came forward with a lighted match and
set fire to the pile.
At once the flames shot up and crept closer and closer
toward the Scarecrow. The King and all his people were so
intent upon this terrible spectacle that none of them
noticed how the sky grew suddenly dark. Perhaps they
thought that the loud buzzing sound -- like the noise of
a dozen moving railway trains -- came from the blazing
fagots; that the rush of wind was merely a breeze. But
suddenly down swept a flock of Orks, half a hundred of
them at the least, and the powerful currents of air
caused by their revolving tails sent the bonfire
scattering in every direction, so that not one burning
brand ever touched the Scarecrow.
But that was not the only effect of this sudden
tornado. King Krewl was blown out of his throne and went
tumbling heels over head until he landed with a bump
against the stone wall of his own castle, and before he
could rise a big Ork sat upon him and held him pressed
flat to the ground. Old Googly-Goo shot up into the air
like a rocket and landed on a tree, where he hung by the
middle on a high limb, kicking the air with his feet and
clawing the air with his hands, and howling for mercy
like the coward he was.
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