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Tasslehoff scampered to the base of the tree. Looking up, he
launched himself at a low, sturdy branch, and began scrambling up hand
over foot like a monkey.
"Tasslehoff, you get down from that tree this minute!" Gisella
cried in alarm. "You'll plunge to your death, and I'll have nothing
but bloody bones to trade to the council."
"So nice of you to be concerned about my health," he said
sweetly.
"What do you see up there, Mr. Burrfoot?" Woodrow asked.
There was a brief pause as Tasslehoff swung from branch to
branch in the tree. "Well, it's three pulleys... no, it's four
pulleys. Hooked together in pairs. Only really it's six pulleys,
because two of them are two pulleys hooked together side by side. And
they're all linked with ropes as thick as my wrist, only real short.
My guess is it's Fondu's pulley job."
Gisella turned to Fondu. "No doubt." But she was doubtful.
Gisella could not believe that a bunch of gully dwarves could have
rigged up such an apparently elaborate system.
Fondu's face crinkled up into a glassy-eyed smile. "Many men
come and build pulley job. They funny little men." Imitating them,
Fondu frowned up at the tree, stroking an imaginary beard. Abruptly he
marched around, stumbling over his floppy shoes and swinging his arms.
Giggling, the crowd of gully dwarves marched in small circles,
slapping their feet up and down.
"They sound like gnomes, because gnomes like to build things
like this, but they look like dwarves," Tas said, laughing at the
antics of the gully dwarves
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