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unted 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。
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