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Then he said, "Though you are a dweller of cities—a vermin of the walls—I think you are not unworthy—and thus I pray the lance will fall to me". - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 3, Sentence #69)

I looked away. "That," said the rider, "speaks to me of courage". We studied each other for a moment, sizing one another up. Then he said, "Though you are a dweller of cities—a vermin of the walls—I think you are not unworthy—and thus I pray the lance will fall to me". He turned his mount back to his fellows. They conferred again for a moment and then the warrior of the Kataii approached, a lithe, strong proud man, one in whose eyes I could read that he had never lost his saddle, nor turned from a foe. His hand was light on the yellow bow, strung taut. - (Nomads of Gor)