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I approached, the multiple sheath of saddle knives at my left hip. - (Players of Gor, Chapter 11, Sentence #83)

Also, of course, Boots would never have approved of vigorous altercations with paying customers, and certainly would have frowned upon slaying them, even a few of them. That sort of thing is not good for business. Boots motioned me forward. I approached, the multiple sheath of saddle knives at my left hip. "May I present Tarl, he of the Plains of Turia, he of the Lands of the Wagon Peoples, master of the mystic quivas, the famed saddle knives of the southern barbarians, come to us at great expense and in spite of many perils by special arrangement with Kamchak, Ubar San of the Wagon Peoples!" "That's Kamchak," I said. I thought I owed at least that much to my old buddy of the south. I supposed that if Kamchak had known his name was being used in this fashion, and mispronounced at that, and Boots was within his grasp he might have, as a joke, for Kamchak was fond of jokes, had Boots put in a sack and put out in front of the bosk, curious to see if they would move in that direction on that particular morning. - (Players of Gor)