That ain't bein' planted any more, but in those
days it was well thought of. "Then Trask moves into the farm across the road. Trask was from down
south, from around New Orleans way, and he was fired up with all sorts
of backwoods stuff. Pretty soon he began to fight with Maudsley about
how good his hybrid corn was. Seems Trask believed the only way to
grow good crops was by usin' voodoo spells. Got so them two couldn't
come into sight of each other without startin' an argument. One day
Trask got so mad he let his cattle loose in Maudsley's cornfield. That settled it. Maudsley headed for Trask's place, armed with a
double-barreled shotgun. But before he got there, Trask made himself
invisible." "He did what?" demanded Mr. Tapping. "Well anyway, that's the story Maudsley spread around. Funny thing is,
folks believed him. He said Trask, bein' from New Orleans country, knew
all sorts of voodoo spells, and he said that Trask, bein' afraid, had
cast a spell over himself to make himself vanish. 'Course some persons
were suspicious and the sheriff asked Maudsley some questions. But
Maudsley proved his shotgun hadn't been fired, and no one had seen him
commit any crime. Trask was never seen around these parts again. After
that Maudsley got to actin' sorta queer: lookin' over his shoulder,
talkin' to himself. Then one day he up and cleared out, and the next
anything was heard of him he had moved south to New Orleans, the very
place Trask had come from. Maudsley is still down there; he wouldn't
come back even long enough to complete the sale of his farm." Jason's
voice died off as he reached the end of his story. "Did you hear what he said?" said Jimmy in a low voice. "Sure." Stella rose triumphant from capturing her bumble bee. "I knew
it all the time." *       *       *       *       *

It rained the next night and even with the spyglass Jimmy could see
nothing in the cornfields. But he knew the two scarecrows were out
there, and he could imagine them standing in the rain with beads of
water dripping from their hats. The muddy water would be running in
rivulets between the rows of shocked corn and when the lightning
flashed the shocks would gleam dully like so many stacked guns at an
army encampment. Next day after lunch Jimmy drew his sister aside. "If you don't tell anybody I'll show you the present I've got for Mr.
Maudsley. Promise?" "I promise," said Stella. Jimmy led the way into the barn and in the rear near one of the horse
stalls, swept aside a covering of hay. He picked up a long rusty knife
and displayed it with an air of pride. Stella was disappointed. "Just an old knife." "It's a voodoo knife, that's what it is. See the way the handle is
carved." Stella looked and saw a yellowed handle of what once might have been
ivory, carved in the shape of a running goat with several quasi-human
faces low down near the hilt. "What are you going to do with it?" she said. "I told you. Give it to Mr. Maudsley. It's his." "How do you know it's his?" "This is Mr. Maudsley's barn, isn't it? Besides, it was near his other
stuff." Stella was not enthusiastic. "Papa won't like it. He got mad when you
nailed that pie-tin to Mr. Maudsley's hand." "Papa won't know a thing about it. Come on." It was hot in the cornfield. The morning sun beat down fiercely and the
air smelled of damp earth. The ground between the rows of stubble was
marked with tiny channels the running water had cut the night before. But the shocks were dry again and in the slight breeze they whispered
and rustled gently. The two children made a bee-line for the center
of the field until they came to the two cross boards that served as a
framework for the scarecrow. The scarecrow was fashioned of some old clothing which had once
belonged to a fat man--overalls, a coat of what might have been a
Sunday suit at one time, and an ancient felt hat--castaways which the
children had found in the barn. The cardboard face, marked in black
crayon, a little blurred now from the rain, had been copied by Jimmy
from an old photograph the boy had come upon among some old papers
when he had cleaned out the attic. Jimmy had decided that even a crow
wouldn't be fooled by a faceless scarecrow. Jimmy was about to climb the upright shaft when Stella stopped him. "Wait," she said. "Let's not give Mr. Maudsley the knife." "Why not? It's his." "_Let's give it to Mr. Trask._"

The boy's jaw dropped as the enormity of the idea grew upon him. Then
he uttered a squeal of delight. Laughing and giggling, the two children turned and ran down and vaulted
the fence that enclosed the aisle of shocks to the road and adjacent
field. Five minutes later the second scarecrow brandished a knife at the end
of one of its handless sleeves. But as Jimmy came out on the road again, he looked across at Mr.
Maudsley. In full view in the sunlight, it wasn't a cardboard face now;
it was a round full face, with great folds of fat, and it was twisted
in an expression of stark fear. *       *       *       *       *

For three nights the skies over the Tapping farm were black, and a cold
wind huffing down from the north kept the children indoors where they
played endless games of parchesi. On the fourth night the moon broke
through the clouds. Jimmy, squatting by the window, the spyglass to his eye, stared out at
the two scarecrows. At intervals he thought he saw Mr. Trask descend
from the mounting pole, leap up over the shocks and begin his strange
dance. But at the instant those capers began, the clouds always managed
to blot out the light, and the boy never could be sure if it was a
trick of his eye or the glass. And then Jimmy observed two things. With him in his gyrations Mr. Trask
carried the knife, and as he darted back and forth, he edged almost
imperceptibly toward Mr. Maudsley. The boy watched a long time to confirm his fears. Then he turned and
ran to his sister's room. "Mr. Trask is getting closer," he said. "You'd better come see." At the window Stella spent several moments focusing the glass. Slowly
her body went rigid, and she uttered a hoarse exclamation. "He's going to kill Mr. Maudsley." The boy nodded, his eyes shining with terror. "We've got to try and stop him!" She turned and ran down the stairs and through the lower floor rooms
to the back door. Jimmy ran after her. Crossing the yard, they sped
halfway down the lane, then pushed through the cedar windbreak and
veered toward the cornfield. Pumpkins, golden in the moonlight, rose up
on either side as they raced up the incline. Suddenly Stella drew up short. "Look!" Mr. Trask had crossed the road and now was coming full tilt through the
row of shocks. Jimmy, arms spread wide, threw himself forward to block
the onrushing figure's path. He had a brief impression of a blurred
shadow bowling toward him and passing through him while he struck out
with his small fists ineffectually. Behind there was a ripping of cloth
and a hoarse scream. Stella came running to where Jimmy stood.