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For all his uproarious stomping about the wagon last night, paga bottle in hand, singing gusty Tuchuk songs, half frightening Miss Cardwell to death, he seemed in good spirits, looking about, whistling, occasionally pounding a little rhythm on the side of his saddle. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 10, Sentence #182)

I had not known about the head-twisting trick. The wily Tuchuk, of course, had had me spit first. Now this morning we had come to the Plains of a Thousand Stakes. For all his uproarious stomping about the wagon last night, paga bottle in hand, singing gusty Tuchuk songs, half frightening Miss Cardwell to death, he seemed in good spirits, looking about, whistling, occasionally pounding a little rhythm on the side of his saddle. I would not tell Miss Cardwell but the rhythm was the drum rhythm of the Chain Dance. I gathered Kamchak had his mind on Aphris of Turia, and was, perilously to my mind, counting his wenches before he had won them. I do not know if there are, by count, a thousand stakes or not on the Plains of a Thousand Stakes, but I would suppose that there are that many or more. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 10)