Mike came racing back to leap on Tad. The dog frolicked around him, wagging his tail furiously. Tad pushed him away and Mike fell in at his master's side. Joe smiled. Mike hadn't earned his keep in Missouri or on the Trail either, but it was a comfort to know that he was there and he was a companion for Tad. "Can I take the rifle an' go huntin', Pa?" Tad asked. "It's pretty slushy." "I'll mind my step." "Well, go ahead. But don't go too far." Mike padding beside him, Tad trotted back to get the rifle. Snedeker looked after him. "Ain't you scair't to let him tote a rifle?" he asked Joe. "I would have been back in Missouri, but not here. He's learned a lot." "Likely little sprout," Snedeker asserted. "I mind the time--" Snedeker was off on a long, rambling story about a young Mexican they'd found in Santa Fe and Joe listened with half an ear. Missouri, somehow, seemed very far off and unreal, as though they'd never lived there except in a dream. Oregon was the only reality, and they had already covered a good part of the Trail. If they started from Snedeker's as soon as travel conditions permitted, they would reach Oregon long before those who started this spring from Independence. There would be plenty of time to find land they liked, build a cabin, and probably to plant some crops. "--the kid went to Texas," Snedeker finished. "The last I hear about him he's doin' right well for hisself stealin' hosses an' cattle in Mexico an' runnin' 'em over the border. Joe, you ain't payin' me no mind!" "Oh--Oh yes, I heard you. Jim, when can we expect grass?" "Emmy-grants," Snedeker grumbled. "They light out for Oregon an' their tail's afire 'til they get thar. Then they spend the rest of their days milkin' fool cows an' steerin' a plow. I don't know why any of you bother to leave Mizoury." "The ground's softer in Oregon," Joe grinned. "It makes for easier plowing." "Pah! If the Lord meant men to plow, they'd of been born with a plow in their hands." "And if He meant them to shoot, I suppose they'd be born with a rifle in their hands?" "'Tain't the same thing. 'Tain't the same thing at all. Sounds like your young-un's shot at somethin'." Up on the ridge, the rifle cracked, and its echoes died in the distance. Joe listened for a second shot but heard none. Twenty minutes later Tad appeared, dragging a timber wolf by a rope around its neck while Mike trotted proudly beside him. Tad panted to a halt. "There was three of 'em!" he gloated. "They was goin' to jump old Mike an' they didn't even see me! The other two cootered off like scared rabbits when I shot this one! Plunked him right in the ear!" "Was he runnin'?" Snedeker inquired. "Nah!" Tad said scornfully. "He was just trottin'." "Did you aim at his ear?" "Sure. Figgered that'd put him down to stay." Snedeker said dryly, "Well, don't be shootin' at my ear no matter if I'm walkin' or gallopin'. You'll be a right handy man with a rifle after you've growed a mite."