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- The Man With No Name launched himself on to the chute, his body sliding easily on the smooth surface, polished to a high gloss by the passage of countless barrels. Too easily for he was forced to use his hands as brakes on each side of the chute, then to snatch them clear as the friction first burned them and then tore at the flesh of his palms, oozing blood from between his fingers. Just before he reached the end, he flipped his body to the side and came clear, crashed on to the floor.
- - A Fistful of Dollars novel, chapter 18
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