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Harold was sitting there calmly on the back of his kaiila, a reproachful look on his face. - (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 24, Sentence #177)

Muttering I jerked loose the reins of my kaiila from the column to which I had tethered it, leaped to the saddle and raced after Harold, not wishing to be left behind somewhere in the streets of Turia or among the dark wagons beyond the gate, pounding on wagon after wagon to find which one might be mine. I bounded down the stairs of the palace of Phanius Turmus, and sped through the inner and outer courtyard and out into the street, leaving the startled guards trying to salute me as a commander. A few yards beyond the gate I hauled my kaiila up short, rearing and pawing the air. Harold was sitting there calmly on the back of his kaiila, a reproachful look on his face. "Such haste," he said, "is not seemly in the commander of a Thousand". "Very well," I said, and we walked our kaiila at a stately pace toward Turia's main gate. "I was afraid," I said, "that without you I would not be able to find my wagon". - (Nomads of Gor)