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The Older Tarl, who seemed pleased, drew near. - (Tarnsman of Gor, Chapter 4, Sentence #42)

Fortunately, before losing consciousness, I drew on the four-strap, and the tarn leveled out and then lifted his wings over his back and dropped like a striking hawk, with a speed that left me without breath in my body. I released the reins, letting them hang on the saddle-ring, which is the signal for a constant and straight flight, no pressure on the throat strap. The great tarn snapped his wings out, catching the air under them, and smoothly began to fly a straight course, his wings beating slowly but steadily in a cruising speed that would soon take us far beyond the towers of the city. The Older Tarl, who seemed pleased, drew near. He pointed back toward the city, which was now several miles in the distance. "I'll race you," I cried. "Agreed!" he shouted, wheeling his tarn in the instant he spoke, and turning him to the city. - (Tarnsman of Gor)