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Ho-Hak, sweating, breathing deeply, wildly, his great ears flat against the sides of his head, the iron, riveted collar of the galley slave, with its broken, dangling chain, about his neck, clutching his oar pole, stood with his legs planted widely apart on the rence, at bay. - (Raiders of Gor, Chapter 6, Sentence #87)

Now, just outside the circle of his swinging pole, there must have been ten or fifteen warriors of Port Kar, their swords drawn, the light of the marsh torches reflecting from them, surrounding him, fencing him in with their weapons. He could not have been more enclosed had he found himself in the jaws of the long-bodied, nine-gilled marsh shark. "A fighter!" cried one of the men of Port Kar. Ho-Hak, sweating, breathing deeply, wildly, his great ears flat against the sides of his head, the iron, riveted collar of the galley slave, with its broken, dangling chain, about his neck, clutching his oar pole, stood with his legs planted widely apart on the rence, at bay. "Tharlarion!" he shouted at the men of Port Kar. They laughed at him. Then two capture nets, circular, strongly woven, weighted, dropped over him. - (Raiders of Gor, Chapter 6)