Now, while shattered shreds of night battled with approaching day, he paused to look tenderly at his wife and child. They were still in the cushioned chair, and both slept. But even though she was not awake, Emma's possessive arms still wrapped her daughter securely. It was as though she were a high wall over which the peril that stalked the baby would have to climb before it could work real harm. His shoes still in his hand, Joe took a long while to open the door in order to open it silently. He was hungry. But a man didn't think of his own needs if forgetting them meant that a feverish child and her mother could have another few moments of blessed rest. Besides, the hunger that tormented him was as nothing compared to the fever that burned baby Emma. Joe closed the door as softly as he had opened it, easing it back on its hinges and letting the latch fall slowly. His shoes still in his hand, he walked a little way onto the dew-wet grass before he sat down to pull the shoes on and lace them. For a moment he sat still, undecided, while the dew seeped through the bottom of his trousers and against his warm seat. He could always go to Hammerstown when baby Emma was well again, and if he stayed home today there might be some little things he could do to help Emma. He might bring cold water for her, or perhaps she'd need something from the store. Joe made up his mind. Barbara and Tad could do whatever needed the doing, and every day that passed was one day closer to the frosts of autumn. There was no time to lose. Besides, only Emma knew how to help the sick youngster. He did not cease to worry as he took a bridle from its peg in the barn and went toward the mules' pasture, but he was not so desperately troubled as he had been. Joe hid the bridle behind his back as he approached the pasture. The mules looked at him from the corners of their eyes, then turned their backs and drifted toward the other side of the corral. Joe muttered under his breath. When they thought they would have to work, the mules were always hard to catch. Joe dropped the bridle beside the fence and returned to the barn. He stuck a rope in his belt and took a couple of handfuls of corn out of the grain barrel. The corn in a wooden scoop, he went back to the mule pasture, entered the gate, and lolled near it. He thought again of the night in Tenney's store, and of Bibbers Townley telling about the west. In spite of the fact that Bibbers had been lying, the spirit of something bright and wonderful had been present. Joe thought of land, as much as a man wanted, free for the taking. He saw his sons planting grain for themselves, and not rows of dollar bills for some banker. He thought of his daughters happily married to strong men who needed, and had, space in which to grow.