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contain seven or eight suffocated gazelles； and all that heat keeps them from freezing right away。 As the heat builds up overnight； the animals get bloated； their legs turn rigid； and the skin over their abdomens turns purple。 As much as half the meat on them is bad by the time they finally freeze。 So what you get is a frozen gazelle with half its meat inedible。 At the purchasing station； you’ll get less than half the price of a whole gazelle； money for the hide only； not a cent for the meat。 But rotting meat is the wolves’ favorite； and the gazelles buried here will be on their mind all winter。 So we’ll leave the choice wolf food for the wolves。”
The old man lay down on the felt and thrust his hooked pole into the depression； which was at least six feet deep。 He probed and probed until he abruptly jerked the pole upward。 “I’ve hooked one；” he said to Chen。 “Help me pull it up。” They began raising the animal； dropping it back a little between pulls to let the displaced snow fill the gap beneath it。 They stood on the felt； bending over to pull the pole up； before long； the snow…covered head of a dead gazelle broke the surface。 The hook had caught the animal in the throat； which preserved the integrity of the hide。 Chen bent over； grabbed the gazelle （which weighed fi fty or sixty kilos） by the head； and pulled it onto the felt。 It was pletely frozen； its abdomen neither distended nor purple； it had died and fro—zen quickly。 “A perfect specimen；” the old man said。 “It’ll bring the highest price。”
“There are more down there；” he said； taking a deep breath。 “You try to snag one。 It’s like hooking a bucket at the bottom of a well。 When you’ve found the right spot； pull with all your might。 Don’t hook it where you’ll spoil the pelt and lower the price。” Chen a
