The old Earth man is to be patched
to poor Tiggle instead of Ghip-Ghisizzle, who has in some way
managed to escape from the Room of the Great Knife--no one knows how
but Tiggle, and Tiggle won't tell."
"We're sorry for anyone who has to be patched," replied Fredjim in a
reflective tone, "for although it didn't hurt us as much as we
expected, it's a terrible mix-up to be in until we become used to
our strange combination. You and we are about alike, now, Jimfred,
although we were so different before."
"Not so," said Jimfred. "We are really more intelligent than you
are, for the left side of our brain was always the keenest before we
were patched."
"That may be," admitted Fredjim, "but we are much the strongest,
because our right arm was by far the best before we were patched."
"We are not sure of that," responded Jimfred, "for we have a right
arm, too, and it is pretty strong."
"We will test it," suggested the other, "by all pulling upon one end
of this bench with our right arms. Whichever can pull the bench from
the others must be the strongest."
While they were tussling at the bench, dragging it first here and
then there in the trial of strength, Trot opened the door of the
palace and walked in. It was pretty dark in the hall, and only a few
dim blue lights showed at intervals down the long corridors. As the
girl walked through these passages, she could hear snores of various
degrees coming from behind some of the closed doors and knew that
all the regular inmates of the place were sound asleep.
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