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Yet I was hesitant to make the strike of a thief at the wagon of Kutaituchik—for the Tuchuks, in their bluff way, had made me welcome, and I had come to care for some of them, particularly the gruff, chuckling, wily Kamchak, whose wagon I shared. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 12, Sentence #12)

The prairie stretched away for hundreds of pasangs in all directions. There was little cover. It was possible, of course, that I might declare my mission to Kutaituchik or Kamchak, and see what would occur—but I knew that Kamchak had said to Saphrar of Turia that the Tuchuks were fond of the golden sphere—and I had no hopes that I might make them part with it—and surely I had no riches comparable to those of Saphrar with which to purchase it—and Saphrar's own attempts to win the sphere by purchase, I reminded myself, had failed. Yet I was hesitant to make the strike of a thief at the wagon of Kutaituchik—for the Tuchuks, in their bluff way, had made me welcome, and I had come to care for some of them, particularly the gruff, chuckling, wily Kamchak, whose wagon I shared. It did not seem to me a worthy thing to betray the hospitality of Tuchuks by attempting to purloin an object which obviously they held to be of great value. I wondered if any in the camp of the Tuchuks realized how actually great indeed was the value of that golden sphere, containing undoubtedly the last hope of the people called Priest-Kings. In Turia I had learned nothing, unfortunately, of the answers to the mystery of the message collar—or to the appearance of Miss Elizabeth Cardwell on the southern plains of Gor. - (Nomads of Gor)