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. "It's all cockeyed!" she shrieked, flailing her
arms. "I can hear bottles breaking! Straighten it out! Straighten it
out!"
But the gully dwarves, who had no concept of what was happening,
continued their erratic march to the sea. In desperation, Woodrow let
go of the slower horse's bridle and was hauling vainly on the
fastermoving horse, trying to slow it down. Unfortunately the other
horse, with no one guiding it forward, stopped in its tracks.
The wagon lurched suddenly as something inside it broke free and
crashed into the back wall. Gisella clapped her hands over her ears
when a second crash echoed up the cliff face, then frantically slapped
them over her eyes as the wagon's door flew open and a potpourri of
melons, cushions, and personal items tumbled out of the doorway.
Everything she owned spiraled, for what seemed to Gisella like an
eternity, down the hundreds of feet to the sea.
By now, the wagon was hanging almost vertically. The door
flapped in the breeze with one of Gisella's nightshirts, caught on the
latch, waving like a flag of truce. Within moments, Woodrow brought
the advancing horse and gully dwarves to a halt and raced back to the
stationary line, then advanced it so the lines were again even. All
this was accompanied by even more smashing and tinkling from below.
Each crash made Woodrow wince, each tinkle made Gisella bite deeper
into her lip.
Finally, Tas announced from above that the wagon was level
again.
Peering down at Gisella, he called, "Maybe it's not as bad as it
sounded
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