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. All we have to do is hook them
...oops!"
The rope had come within five feet of the ledge, almost
within reach. Then, abruptly, it sagged and went limp.
The rope dangled from the flying craft, its hook swinging
fifteen feet out from the cliff.
"Oh, breakdown!" the gnome cursed. "It melted!"
"Melted?"
"Right. I used up the last of my water, soaking it, then
spent the night at least ten thousand feet up, freezing it. I
thought that would work."
"Well, don't worry," the kender called. "Just try to hold
still."
Strutting with pride, Chess brought out his supply
pole -- twenty feet of slim sapling, with loops at its ends.
He attached the narrow-end loop to the raisin-and-cider
pack and lifted it, then began to feed out pole toward
Bobbin's dangling hook.
Leaning over his wicker rail, the gnome watched with
worried eyes. "That isn't going to work," he said. "You
can't lever that much weight that far out without a coun-
terbalance."
Chess braced himself, struggling to feed out the pole.
The weight of the supplies seemed to double with each
foot of extension. "I may need some help," he admitted.
The others had gathered around him, watching with a
mixture of amusement and disbelief.
"You need more than help," Wingover advised. "There
isn't enough pole there."
"This just has to work," the kender panted, beginning
to stagger at the leveraged weight of the supply pole. "It's
the only idea I have
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