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Harold had already taken up a position, looking about, near the edge of the well. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 16, Sentence #70)

On the other hand, I reminded myself, my own probabilities of success and survival were hardly better—and here I was, his critic—climbing up the drum rope, wet, cold, puffing, a stranger to the city of Turia, intending to steal an object—the egg of Priest-Kings—which was undoubtedly, by now, as well guarded as the Home Stone of the city itself. I decided that I would nominate both Harold and myself for an Idiocy Scar and let the Tuchuks take their pick. It was with a feeling of relief that I finally got my arm over the crossbar of the windlass and drew myself up. Harold had already taken up a position, looking about, near the edge of the well. The Turian wells, incidentally, have no raised wall, but are, save for a rim of about two inches in height, flat with the level. I joined Harold. We were in an enclosed well yard, surrounded by walls of about sixteen feet in height, with a defender's catwalk about the inside. - (Nomads of Gor)