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Whatever may be the case the trail upward was crowded with hurrying, jostling, panting men eager to make it through the gate at the summit of the wharf trail before it might be shut against them by their own officers. - (Rebels of Gor, Chapter 9, Sentence #52)

It is not difficult, in the quiet of the night, or the quiet of the study, to analyze with shrewdness, and compose with deliberation. But, unfortunately, those in the ranks are seldom familiar with the manuals, and would not care for them if they were, and many cannot read. And officers, familiar with the manuals, sweating in the midst of fighting, exhausted, hoarse, their arm weary, looking about themselves, discover they are now surrounded by disorganized, swarming men, innocent of, or forgetful of, codes, excited, frightened, violent, celebratory, reckless men who have survived battle, men who are not eager to renew war, to face again the blades of a desperate enemy, men who are now exhilarated to find themselves alive, and are intent on loot, without which the pittance of a common fee is negligible. Whatever may be the case the trail upward was crowded with hurrying, jostling, panting men eager to make it through the gate at the summit of the wharf trail before it might be shut against them by their own officers. One might, in such a moment, be able to seize and carry away, even concealed in one's garments, enough to purchase a tavern or farm. Some men apparently died in the climb upward. Those in the foremost ranks, gasping, legs aching, bracing themselves, pushed from behind, paused as had their predecessors, the timid peasants sent ahead to reconnoiter, at the large threshold. - (Rebels of Gor)