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ed until the battle was over。 It seemed to Chen that he had held his breath the whole time； his heart was racing。
The old man stood up and stretched； then sat cross…legged in the tall grass on the edge of the snow cave； where he took a pipe with a jade mouthpiece out of his felt boot。 He filled it with tobacco； lit it； and； covering the opening with a lid made of an old silver coin； inhaled a mouthful of smoke。
Chen knew that as a young man； Bilgee had given a Han Chinese trader from Zhangjiakou twenty fox pelts for this pipe； the students considered it a bad deal； but the pipe was one of the old man’s prized possessions； and he had sympathized with the trader； who’d had to travel all the way to Mongolia to do business； risking death at the hands of highwaymen along the way。
The old man kept smoking。 “We can head back after this pipe；” he said。
But Chen was still on a hunting high。 “Aren’t we going to take a look on the other side？” he asked anxiously。 “I’d like to see how many gazelles the wolves trapped。”
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狼图腾（英文版） 2（12）
“That’s too dangerous。 Anyway； I know without looking。 There will be hundreds of them。 Outside of the young animals； plus the thin ones and the lucky ones that can somehow make it out of the snowdrift； the rest are all fated to go to Tengger。 You needn’t worry。 This pack of wolves won’t be able to eat all their kills； and even after our group goes out and brings back all we can； there’ll still be plenty left out there。”
“The young animals； and the thin ones； how do they manage to get away？”
The old man’s eyes crinkled in a smile as he said； “Young animals are thin； which makes their bodies light； so they don’t go deep into the snow。 They can usually find a way out； and the wolves won’t go after them。” He beamed。 “My boy； today you’ve witnessed the virtues of wolves。 Not only do they watch and preserve the grassland； but they’ve delivered New Year’s gifts to us。 Thanks to them； it’s going to be a good year。 There’s a grassland rule here that the spoils of a hunt belong to whoever sees them first。 Since you and I are the witnesses； we’ll make sure your yurt gets a bit extra。 We Mongols place much importance on repaying debts of gratitude。 In the future； don’t waste your time talking about the wolf hunt with other Chinese or outsiders。”
Chen Zhen could barely contain his excitement； he was impatient to fill a wagon with gazelle carcasses and take them back to the yurt。 “In the two years I’ve been here；” he said； “the wolves have caused me nothing but trouble。 I never expected that one day I’d benefit from their efforts。”
“We Mongols benefit from their efforts all the time；” the old man said。 He raised his herding club and pointed to a mountain range behind them。 “There’s another range of mountains behind that one。 It’s not part of our pastureland； but it’s famous around here。 The old people say that Genghis Khan’s great general Muqali fought a battle there。 He drove several thousand mounted Jurchen warriors of the great Jin dynasty into a snowdrift； and the following spring he sent men back to collect the spoils of war。 There were mountains of swords and spears and bows and arrows； plus helmets and armor； and saddles and lan—terns。 Where else could he have learned that but from wolves？ If you add up all the major battles involving Mongols； more than half were fought with skills learned from the wolves。”
The two men walked back to the ravine behind them； and when the dark horse saw its master； it jerked its head up and down excitedly。 Every time Chen saw this horse； which had once saved his life； he pat—ted it on the head to once more show his gratitude。 The horse accepted his thanks by nudging him on the shoulder。 This time； however； Chen felt a powerful impulse to somehow pat a wolf on the head。
They removed the cowhide fetters from the horses’ hooves； mounted up； and rode off at an easy canter toward home。
The old man looked up at the sky； “Tengger is protecting us；” he said。 “The weather will hold tomorrow。 If a blizzard came tonight； we wouldn’t wind up with a single gazelle。”
狼图腾（英文版）3（1）
Fine weather greeted them the following morning。 Kitchen smoke rose from the yurts like slim white birches； the tips of their high—est branches boring into the heavens； into Tengger。 The cows and sheep were ruminating leisurely； the sun had driven off the cold night air； and frost on the animals’ hides was just then turning to dew； to eventually rise from their bodies as mist。
Chen Zhen asked his neighbor Gombu to tend his sheep that day。 As a onetime herd owner； Gombu was kept under surveillance； and his right to tend sheep had been taken from him； but the four Beijing stu—dents asked him to watch their animals whenever they could； for which Gasmai would let him earn the appropriate work points。 Chen and one of the other herders； Yang Ke； yoked up a light cart and headed to Bil…gee’s yurt。
Yang； a classmate who lived in Chen Zhen’s yurt； was the son of a famous professor at one of Beijing’s most prestigious universities。 They had as many books at home as a small library。 In high school； Chen and he had often traded books。 They’d exchange views when they finished； and were best friends。 In Beijing； Yang had been a shy； mild…mannered boy who blushed whenever he met a stranger。 No one could have pre—dicted that after two years of eating lamb and beefsteaks and cheese； after baking in the strong rays of the Mongolian sun season after sea—son； he would be transformed into a brawny son of the grassland； with a face as sunburned as the native herdsmen and none of the bookish manners he’d brought with him。
Yang was more excited than Chen； and as he whipped the back of the ox he said； “I didn’t sleep at all last night。 The next time Bilgee takes you hunting； be sure to let me go along； even if I have to lie there for two whole days。 This is the first time I’ve heard of wolves performing good deeds for people； and I won’t believe it until I personally drag one of the gazelle carcasses out of the snow。 Can we really take a cartload of them back with us？”
“Would I lie to you？” Chen smiled。 “Papa said that no matter how hard it is to dig them out； we’re guaranteed a cartful； which we can s for other things； like New Year’s items and some large pieces of felt for our yurt。”
Yang was so pleased he whipped the back of the ox until it glared angrily。 “It looks like your two…year fascination with wolves is begin—ning to pay off；” he said。 “I’ll have to start studying their hunting techniques myself。 Who knows； it might e in handy in a real fight one day 。 。 。 What you said could be a pattern。 Living on the grassland over the long haul as a nomad； it makes no difference which ethnic group you belong to； since sooner or later you’ll start worshipping wolves and treating them as mentors。 That’s what happened with the Huns； the Wusun； the Turks； the Mongols； and other nationalities。 Or so it says in books。 But the Chinese are an exception。 I guarantee you； we Chinese could live out here for generations without worshipping a wolf totem。”
狼图腾（英文版）3（2）
“Maybe； maybe not；” Chen said as he reined in his horse。 “Take me； for instance。 The wolves have won me over in a little more than two years。”
“But the vast majority of Chinese are peasants；” Yang countered； “or were born to peasants。 The Han have a peasant mentality that’s impossible to break down； and if they were transported out here； I’d be surprised if they didn’t skin every last wolf on the grassland。 We’re a farming race； and a fear and hatred of wolves is in our bones。 How could we venerate a wolf totem？ We Han worship the Dragon King； the one in charge of our agrarian lifeline—our dragon totem； the one we pay homage to； the one to whom we meekly submit。 How can you expect people like that to learn from wolves； to protect them； to wor—ship and yet kill them； like the Mongols？ Only a people’s totem can truly rouse their ethnic spirit and character； whether it’s a dragon or a wolf。 The differences between farming and nomadic peoples are simply too great。 In the past； when we were immersed in the vast Han Chi—nese ocean； we had no sense of those differences； but ing out here has made the inherent weaknesses of our farming background obvious。 Sure； my father is a renowned professor； but his grandfather and my mother’s grandmother were peasants。”
“In ancient times；” Chen said； picking up the thread； “the impact of Mongols on the world was far greater than that of the Han； who out—numbered them a hundred to one。 Even now； people in the West call us members of a Mongol race； and we accept that。 But back when the Qin and Han dynasties unified China； the word Mongol didn’t exist。 I tell you； I feel sorry for the Han Chinese。 We built the Great Wall and crowed about what an achievement it was； considering ourselves to be the center of the world； the central kingdom。 But in the eyes of early Western people； China was only a ‘silk country；’ a ‘ceramic country；’ a ‘tea country。’ The Russians even thought that the little Khitan tribe was China； and to t