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ited； without quite knowing why。 The vague image of a wolf totem formed in his head。 Before leaving Beijing two years earlier； he’d read and col—lected books on the inhabitants of the grassland； and had learned that they revere a wolf totem； but only now did he have an inkling of why they treated the wolf； a beastly ancestor； an animal despised by the Chi—nese and by all people who tilled the land； as their totem。
The old man looked at Chen； his broad smile turned his eyes to nar—row slits。 “You Beijing students threw up your yurt more than a year ago；” he said； “but you don’t have enough felt padding around it。 We’ll take a few extra gazelles back with us this time and trade them at the purchasing center for some felt。 That way the four of you will be a bit warmer this winter。”
“That’s wonderful；” Chen said。 “We’ve only got two layers of felt now； and even our ink bottles freeze inside the yurt。”
The old man smiled again。 “Well； take a good look； because this pack of wolves is going to hand you a nice gift。”
On the Olonbulag at the time； a full… grown frozen gazelle； meat and hide； sold for twenty yuan； equivalent to a herder’s wages for two weeks。 Considered choice material； its hide was used to make pilots’ jackets。 But China’s pilots could not get them； since the gazelle hides produced in Inner Mongolia were for export only； a modity of exchange with the Soviet Union and Eastern European countries for steel； automo—biles； and munitions。 The choice meat cuts were canned and exported。 The remaining meat and the bones were targeted for domestic con—sumption but only occasionally appeared in butcher shops in the Mon—golian banner territories； where ration coupons were required。
狼圖騰（英文版） 2（4）
In the winter of that year； great qu
