Having escaped from the wolf ’s maw； he became an immediate con—vert to the devotion paid to Tengger； just like his Mongol hosts。 He also developed a plex attitude of fear； reverence； and infatuation toward the Mongolian wolf。 It had touched his soul。 How could it possess such a powerful attraction？
Chen did not catch sight of another wolf pack over the next two years。 During the day he tended his sheep； occasionally spotting a lone wolf； maybe two； off in the distance。 Even when he was far from camp； he never saw more than four or five at one time。 Often； however； he came across the remains of sheep or cattle or horses that had been killed by wolves； individually or in packs。 There might be one or two dead sheep； two or three cows； and maybe three or four horses； but sometimes carcasses would be strewn over a wide area。 When he was out making calls on people； he regularly saw wolf pelts hanging on tall poles； like flags waving in the wind。
Now Bilgee lay fl at in the snow cave； not moving a muscle； his eyes glued to the gazelles grazing on the slope and the wolf pack that was inching nearer。 “Stay calm；” he whispered to Chen。 “The first thing you need to learn as a hunter is patience。”
Having Bilgee beside him was forting。 Chen rubbed his eyes to clear away the mist and blinked calmly at Bilgee； then raised his tele—scope again to watch the gazelles and the wolves。 The pack still had not given itself away。
Since his earlier encounter with the wolves； he had e to under—stand that the inhabitants of the grassland； the nomads； were never far from being surrounded by wolves。 Nearly every night he spotted ghostly wolf outlines； especially during the frigid winter； two or three； perhaps five or six； and as many as a dozen pairs of glittering green lights mov—ing around the perimeter of the grazing land； as far as a hundred li or more distant。 One night he and Bilgee’s daughter…in…law Gasmai； aided by flashlights； counted twenty… five of them。
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狼图腾（英文版） 1（6）
Like guerrilla fighters； nomads strive for simplicity。 During the win—ter； sheep pens are semicircles formed by wagons and mobile fencing； with large felt rugs that serve as a windbreak but cannot keep out the wolves。 The wide southern openings are guarded by packs of dogs and women on watch shifts。 From time to time； wolves break into the pens and fight the dogs。 Bodies often thud into yurt walls； waking the peo—ple sleeping on the other side； twice that had happened to Chen Zhen； and all that had kept a wolf from landing in bed beside him was that wall。 Frequently nomads are separated from wolves by no more than a couple of felt rugs。
At night； when the wolves came out to hunt； Chen would sleep lightly。 He had told Gasmai to call him if a wolf ever broke into the pen when she was on guard duty； assuring her that he would help drive the animal away； fight it head…on if necessary。 Bilgee would stroke his goatee； smile； and say he’d never seen a Chinese so fixated on wolves。 He seemed pleased with the unusual degree of interest displayed by the student from Beijing。
Late one snowy night during his first winter； Chen； flashlight in hand； witnessed at close quarters a battle between a wolf； a dog； and a woman。
“Chenchen！ Chenchen！”
Chen was awakened by Gasmai’s frantic cries and the wild bark—ing of dogs。 After pulling on his felt boots and buttoning up his Mon—gol robe； his deel； he ran out of the yurt on shaky legs； flashlight and herding club in hand。 The beam of light sliced through the snow to reveal Gasmai holding on to the tail of a wolf； trying to pull it away from the densely packed sheep。 The wolf tried desperately to turn its fangs on her。 Meanwhile； the stupid； fat sheep； petrified by the wolf and nearly frozen by the wind； huddled together and kept backing up against the windbreak； packed so tightly the snowflakes between their bodies turned to steam。 The front half of the wolf was immobilized； it could only paw at the ground and snap at the sheep in front of it； all the while engaged in a tug…of…war with Gasmai。 Chen staggered over to help but didn’t know what to do。 Gasmai’s two dogs were hemmed in by the huddled sheep。 Unable to get to the big wolf； they were reduced to wild； impotent barking。 At the same time； Bilgee’s five or six hunting dogs； together with their neighbors’ dogs； were fighting other wolves east of the pen。 The barks； the howls； and the agonizing cries of dogs shook heaven and earth。 Chen wanted to help Gasmai； but his legs were so rubbery he could barely move。 His desire to touch a living wolf had vanished； replaced by paralyzing fear。
Gasmai cried out anxiously； “Stay where you are！ Don’t e near us！ The wolf will bite you。 Get the sheep to move！ Let the dogs in！”
Gasmai was tugging so hard on the wolf ’s tail she was nearly falling backward； her forehead bathed in sweat。 Her grip on the tail caused the wolf so much pain that it had to suck cold air through its bloody mouth。 Desperate to turn and claw its tormentor and seeing it was futile to press forward； the wolf abruptly backed up； spun around； and came at Gasmai； fangs bared。 With a loud ripping noise； the lower half of her fur deel was torn off。 A panther…like glare flashed in her Mon—gol eyes； and she refused to let go of the tail。 She jumped backward； straightening the animal out once more； and began dragging it over to the dogs。
狼图腾（英文版） 1（7）
Thrown into a panic； Chen raised his flashlight and shone it on Gas—mai and the wolf to help her see better and avoid getting bitten； then he brought his herding club down on the head of the sheep next to him。 That threw the flock into chaos。 Frightened of the wolf in the dark； they fought to huddle against the light shining in their midst； Chen had failed to get them moving。 Even worse； he saw that Gasmai was los—ing the tug…of…war with the wolf； which was dragging her forward。
“Mother！ Mother！” The fearful screams of a child tore through the air。
Gasmai’s nine…year…old son； Bayar； burst out of the yurt。 The moment he saw what was happening； there was a change in his screams。 He ran straight to his mother and； as if mounting a pommel horse； flew over the sheep and landed next to her； where he grabbed hold of the wolf’s tail。
“Grab its leg！” she shouted。
Bayar let go of the tail and grabbed one of the hind legs； pulling it backward and slowing the animal’s forward progress until the two of them managed to stop it altogether。 Mother and son staunchly held their ground； making sure the large wolf in their grasp was unable to drive any sheep out through the felt…topped windbreak。
By then Bilgee had reached the flock； pushing the sheep out of the way as he called to his dog： “Bar！ Bar！” In Mongol bar means “tiger”； Bilgee’s was the biggest； most ferocious wolfhound in the camp。 It was not as long from nose to tail as one of the large wolves； but it was taller and broader in the chest； thanks to its partial Tibetan lineage。 At the first call of its name； it withdrew from the battle outside and rushed to its master’s side； where it stopped； its mouth reeking of wolf blood。 Bilgee took the fl