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. He struggled to untie a cor-
ner of the canvas, and finally he pulled enough away to
climb further up the spokes and crawl inside the box. It was
surprisingly cramped, he noted as he looked around.
Plows! By Reorx, the mountain dwarves were indeed go-
ing to great lengths to ship plows! And cheap ones at that!
Flint mouthed his astonishment silently. The interior of the
wagon held five huge iron plow-blades. Each of the blades
looked uncorroded, as if it had been freshly forged, but the
metal was pitted and rough from imperfections of casting.
They should be embarrassed to have anyone see such
shoddy workmanship!
This was not what Flint had expected to find. Who cared
if the mountain dwarves' notorious greed allowed them to
lower their smithing standards? Flint was curled into a pain-
ful ball to keep his head from bulging the canvas, but he
shifted onto his knees now and hunkered down to think.
Suddenly, his aching back produced a most unexpected
thought.
Why was he bent double in a box that was at least as tall
as he? Unless it was two boxes, not one, he concluded excit-
edly
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