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"Do not draw your swords!" cried the small fellow. - (Dancer of Gor, Chapter 29, Sentence #232)

It bit through the back of the neck of the man and cast the body down, with the quarter of the dried tarsk which they had brought. Almost instantly another of the men had begun to draw his sword, but the beast, before the blade was half from the sheath, on all fours, scrambling, tearing the grass behind it, moving with incredible swiftness, not like anything on two legs, seized him and tore open his throat with a single slash of those terrible fangs. We screamed in terror, bound, twisting at the railing, half choked. "Do not draw your swords!" cried the small fellow. "Do not draw your swords! It is harmless. It is harmless!" The beast then regarded the men, who shrank back from it, their hands at the hilts of their swords but not daring to draw them. The beast then took the second body and threw it with the first, together with the quarter of a dried tarsk. - (Dancer of Gor)