Yet, in spite of his primitive
trappings, the man had such an aura of authority, of self-confidence,
and competence that it was clear he was top dog in his own section of
the world.
Soon another man, dressed much like the first, but with a rust-brown
cloak, came along, pulling behind him two very reluctant donkeys, whose
eyes rolled fearfully at sight of the dead wolf. Both animals wore packs
lashed on their backs by ropes of twisted hide. Then another man came
along, with another brace of donkeys. Finally, a fourth man, wearing
skins for covering and with a mat of beard on his cheeks and chin,
appeared. His uncovered head, a bush of uncombed flaxen hair, shone
whitish as he knelt beside the dead beast, a knife with a dull-gray
blade in his hand, and set to work skinning the wolf with appreciable
skill. Three more pairs of donkeys, all heavily laden, were led past the
scene before he finished his task. Finally, he rolled the bloody skin
into a bundle and gave the flayed body a kick before he ran lightly
after the disappearing train of pack animals.
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