The sun was warm and good on the wagon cover, and green grass that had not yet reached the fullness of its maturity grew in and on both sides of the Oregon Trail. It was grazed a little but not heavily, for the few travelers they'd met had been coming east from Oregon. There were Mountain Men with sometimes only the horse they rode, the clothes they wore, and the rifle they carried. Others had from two to as many as thirty pack animals, loaded either with furs or with goods that they were taking to Fort Boise. But the Oregon Trail, probably the longest, widest, and most heavily traveled in the history of the world, had not yet known the great press of traffic that it would know as soon as land-hungry emigrants reached this place. That would be months; the fastest-traveling wagons wouldn't get here until the last part of August or the first part of September. Ellis and Barbara, on Ellis's horse, had gone down the Trail together. Carrying his short rifle proudly, Tad walked beside the wagon and Mike padded at his heels. The back flaps were open to allow free passage of air and the youngsters crowded at the back, looking out. They were in Oregon, the Promised Land, and they remained so interested that they played their games only at sporadic intervals. Sitting beside Joe, Emma had taken off her bonnet and a soft wind played with her silky hair. Emma knew a great peace and a quiet happiness. For almost a year they had been homeless wanderers and now, soon, they were once again to have a home. "Look at the land here!" Joe gloated. "Look at the grass! A man wouldn't have to be much of a farmer to grow crops in land like that!" "I love it, Joe!" "So do I!" Joe drew a long breath. He had his ax, his rifle and his tools. The mules were his and so was the cow. Everything a man could possibly need was at hand, but it was different because complete freedom was present here too. The next time Joe plowed a field he would be plowing it for himself and not for Elias Dorrance. Joe slapped the reins over the mules' rumps to make them walk a little faster. Then he eased all rein pressure while a little fright rose within him. Both mules had started out briskly that morning, and he had given them only cursory attention, but now he saw that the mare mule was walking with her head down and ears drooping. She was unsteady on her feet, and when Joe slapped the reins she swayed from side to side. Emma saw it too, and the alarm she felt was plain in her voice, "What's the matter?" "I don't know." The team halted as soon as he spoke, and the horse mule turned a questioning head toward his mate. He sniffed softly at the mare, and Joe hopped from the wagon seat to walk to the head of the team. The horse regarded him anxiously, but the mare stood tiredly in harness with her nose almost touching the Trail. Gently, Joe took hold of their bridles and led them into grass. The mare gasped for breath. "She's sick!" Joe said. "We'll have to stop!"