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Like most Gor compasses, mine contained a chronometer, and I took the compass, turned it over, and pressed the tab that would snap open the back and reveal the dial. - (Tarnsman of Gor, Chapter 6, Sentence #15)

"May your tarn lose its feathers," he roared, slapping his thigh, bringing his tarn to rest on the perch. He leaned over and tossed me a skin bag of paga, from which I took a long swig, then hurled it contemptuously back into his arms. In a moment he had taken flight again, bawling out some semblance of a song about the woes of a camp girl, the bag of paga, flying behind him, dangling from its long straps. Like most Gor compasses, mine contained a chronometer, and I took the compass, turned it over, and pressed the tab that would snap open the back and reveal the dial. It was two minutes past the twentieth hour! Vanished were my thoughts of escape and desertion. I abruptly forced my tarn into flight, streaking for the tower of the Ubar. In a moment it was below me. - (Tarnsman of Gor)