As he sat cross-legged on the ground, Bao said to Uljii, “The border situation is very tense, and my superiors are pressing me to organize a militia and begin training. It was an unexpected stroke of good luck that this hunt produced some hand-to-hand combat.”
“Grassland Mongols are born fighters,” Uljii said. “Give them a weapon and they’ll join the fight. This hunt has provided you with a double victory: the killing of wolves and the training of troops. I say write up two summary reports, and that will satisfy your superiors.”
The Chinese students crowded around Chen Zhen and Yang Ke to look at their pelts and touch them enviously. A student named Wang Junli said, “If you two hadn’t taken in this dog, we students would have no face at all. We’d be nothing but a bunch of retainers to the Mongol cavalry.”
Chen said, “We Chinese have never had the fighting skills or courage of nomads, and when others are your betters, you do well to learn from them. We’ve been given the rare opportunity to serve as retainers to the herdsmen when they fight wolves.”
With a superior tone of voice, Wang said, “Sure, nomads have made many incursions into the Central Plain. But both times they ruled the nation they eventually surrendered to the advanced culture of the Chinese, didn’t they? The grasslanders have had their moments of grandeur, but in the end they haven’t moved beyond the talent of shooting birds out of the sky with bows and arrows, and can display only military might.”
“You might be right,” Chen countered. “But be careful when you place the civil over the military. Without military might, the most glorious culture ever will eventually be reduced to rubble. The civil control of the Han and Tang dynasties was founded on military might. Just think how many great civilizations throughout the world have come to ruin at the hands of backward but militarily strong races. Even their written and spoken languages were lost as a result. You’re wrong when you say the Han civilization destroyed the backward grassland people, for they’ve retained their language, their totemic faith, and their traditional customs. Khrushchev tried to supplant the Kazakhstan nomadic culture with Russian agriculture and industry. And what happened? One of the world’s great grasslands is now a desert.”
Seeing that the combative male students were on the verge of another argument, the student Sun Wenjuan spoke up. “Okay,” she said, “that’s enough. We hardly ever get to see each other, since our flocks are so far apart. Let’s not ruin this reunion by fighting. You guys turn into wolves as soon as you come to the grassland, nipping at each other nonstop!”
Erlang, clearly uncomfortable with people putting their hands all over his pelt, walked up slowly. Assuming no dog taken in by students would bite any of them, Sun took two chunks of curd out of her pocket to reward him. “Good boy, Erlang.”
Without wagging his tail or making a sound, Erlang glared venomously as he approached the student group, frightening Sun, who backed up. “Come here!” Chen yelled, but not in time to keep the dog from growling and threatening to attack the students. In her fright, Sun stumbled and sat down hard.
“You son of a bitch!” Yang shouted as he raised his herding club threateningly. But Erlang tightened his neck and showed he’d rather be hit than retreat. He was, after all, a once feral dog that had just killed four wolves, and Yang was afraid of arousing his still-smoldering wolfish nature. Knowing it would be foolish to use his club, he let it drop.
“No one will dare visit you two in your yurt after this,” Wang Junli said. “If he hadn’t killed all those wolves, I’d be ready to skin and eat him.”
“He’s a strange dog,” Chen said apologetically, “a lot like a wolf, and he doesn’t take easily to humans. Come by more often and he’ll get used to you.”
The students drifted away. Chen patted Erlang on the head. “See what you’ve done,” he said. “You’ve offended my friends.”
Erlang took a few steps toward the pile of carcasses and stared blankly at their pale bodies. Dozens of other dogs standing off at a distance, respectful and somewhat afraid, wagged their tails in his direction. But only Bar, head held high, came up to him; Erlang, neither overbearing nor servile, brushed noses with him. Now that he’d gained the approval of the pasture leaders and the herdsmen, he was being welcomed into the ranks of Second Brigade hunting dogs.
But Chen Zhen detected a look of loss in Erlang’s eyes. He wrapped his arms around the dog’s neck, wishing he knew of a way to console him.
Bao Shungui invited Bilgee over to where most of the hunters had gathered. The old man sat in the center and spread out an array of sheep and horse droppings to describe the battle in detail. His audience listened raptly, with Bao asking a few questions and every once in a while shouting his approval. “This battle,” he said, “should be entered into a military textbook. It was more brilliant than the plan the wolves engineered in massacring the warhorses. You, sir, are a military genius.”
“In the days of Genghis Khan,” Chen volunteered, “Bilgee would have been one of his great generals, as great as Muhuali, Jebe, and Sabutai.”
The old man waved off the compliment. “Don’t compare me with those Mongol sages, or Tengger will be angry. If not for them, the grassland would have been tamed long ago. I’m just an old slave who mustn’t be mentioned in the same breath with them.”
It was nearly noon, and Batu still hadn’t returned, but it was time to head back to camp. Then a horse raced up with a sense of urgency. Buhe jumped down and reported breathlessly to Uljii and Bao Shungui, “Batu says come at once. The wolves you fought this morning were only half the pack. The other half slipped away before daybreak and made its way to the reedy valley at the base of the mountains.”
Bilgee glared at him. “You must be wrong.”
“Batu and I rode into the valley,” Buhe replied, “where we saw fresh wolf tracks in the snow. Batu says there are at least twenty of them, and he thinks that includes the old gray wolf, the alpha male that led the attack on the horses. He says that’s one wolf we have to catch.”
Uljii turned to Bao. “All of us, horses included, have gone without food all night and half the day. And there are many injured dogs. I know that valley, it’s huge, thousands of acres, much too big for us to encircle. I say forget it.”
Bao stared suspiciously at Bilgee. “The nonnatives and the Chinese students tell me you usually take the wolves’ side. You didn’t plan this, did you? Your men and dogs should have been able to surround an additional twenty wolves so that we could wipe them out.”
“No,” Uljii said. “Today we trapped many wolves, like stuffing a big dumpling. If there’d been more of them, we’d have been stretched too thin, and the dumpling skin would have broken.”
Bao turned back to Bilgee. “I think you let them escape on purpose.”
Bilgee stared back at him. “Trapping wolves isn’t the same as scooping noodles out of a bowl! It was pitch-black and there were gaps between the riders. Of course some of the wolves got away. If you’d led the hunt, I’m willing to bet you wouldn’t have gotten a single one.”
Bao’s face colored as his anger grew. Smacking his whip into the palm of his hand, he bellowed, “There may not be enough men and horses, or dogs, but we haven’t used our rifles yet. Now that we’ve located more wolves in the reeds, I’m not letting them go. I’m taking charge of this campaign!”
Bao rode partway up the slope, turned, and said, “Comrades, another pack has been discovered in the reedy valley. There are many among you who still have no pelts, right? Especially you students. Weren’t you complaining that you were kept away from the front line? Well, this time that’s exactly where you’ll be. Comrades, we must prove that we can overcome exhaustion and keep our fighting spirit alive as we annihilate this wolf pack!”