All things considered, he had had a good day. There was much about ax work that he enjoyed. An ax in the hands of a man who knew how to use it ceased to be a mere tool and became a precision instrument. To an ax man, an ax was much like a good rifle to a hunter. "Are you going to cut more trees?" Emma asked. "I'll work in the timber until the hay needs cutting." That was all they said but that was all they had to say because the rest fell into a precise pattern. When the trees were felled and trimmed some would be split into rails for rail fences and the rest used for firewood. As soon as snow eliminated the danger of forest fire the brush would be burned. That was always a minor festival. The whole family turned out for the brush burning. The children watched, fascinated, while leaping flames climbed skyward through crackling branches. Then, while Joe raked the unburned branches together and fired them, Tad and baby Emma built a snow man or a snow fort for the delectation of the rest. It usually ended with Emma and Barbara serving a lunch beside still-glowing coals and Joe always saved enough branches so everyone could have a dry seat. Emma went to the door and called "Tad!" and as though the eight-year-old were on some invisible leash that attached himself to his mother, he appeared out of the lowering night. His seal-sleek hair proved that he had already washed at the well, but no mere water could suffice for Tad now. His face and arms were laced with deep gashes from which blood was again beginning to ooze, and there were fang marks on his upper forearms. Joe said in astonishment, "What the dickens happened to you?" "I caught a wildcat!" Tad said gleefully. "Caught him right in a snare I set myself!" "Don't you know better than to fool around with wildcats?" "It's only a little one," Tad said, as though that explained everything. "Not hardly big enough to chew anything yet. Got him in the barn, I have. I'm goin' to tame him." "Get rid of him," Joe ordered. "Aw, Pa!" Joe was inflexible, "Get rid of him now! One thing we don't need around here, it's a wildcat!" He caught up a lantern, lighted it, and with Tad trotting protesting at his heels, stamped out to the barn. The wildcat had already seen to its own liberation. Tad had put him in one of the mules' feed boxes, covered it with a board, and weighted the board with a rock. The imprisoned cat had worked the board free and slipped away. "Blast his ornery hide!" Tad ejaculated. Joe said sternly, "What's that you said?" "You say it." "So you can too, huh? Get this, don't let me ever again hear you say anything that even sounds like a cuss word. And no more wildcats." "It was only a little one." "You heard me!" Tad's face was stubborn, a little sullen. For a moment he said nothing and Joe repeated, "You heard me!" "Yes, Pa."