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I wondered casually why Kamchak was taking the girls, for the proprietor of the slave wagon would surely want his fee for them as well as us. "Ho!" cried Kamchak, stomping into the wagon. "Meat!" he cried. Elizabeth and Aphris leaped up to tend the pot outside. He then settled down cross-legged on the rug, not far from the brass and copper grating. He looked at me shrewdly and, to my surprise, drew a tospit out of his pouch, that yellowish-white, bitter fruit, looking something like a peach but about the size of a plum. He threw me the tospit. - (Nomads of Gor)