Pete Domley's white horse was tied outside the door, and Pete came from the house to meet them. Joe handed the filleted fish, which he was carrying on a slab of wood, to Tad. "Take these to your mother, will you? She'll want them soon if we're going to have them for supper." Pete Domley glanced down at the pile of fish and sniffed hungrily. "They look downright good. It's a long while since I've had time to get any for myself." "Maybe you'll stay and help us eat these?" Joe invited. "There's plenty." Pete grinned. "I might just do that. Sorry about the cow. She stepped in a chuck hole and broke a front leg. There just wasn't anything else to do." "I know. Thanks for taking care of it, Pete." "Emma said to sell the beef to Les." "Yeah, and I reckon she's right. Nobody here would eat it." "Les gave me twenty-three dollars and seventy cents, cash money. I gave it all to Emma." "You should have kept something for your trouble." "It wasn't any trouble. Emma says you're going to Oregon?" "That's right, Pete. We are." Pete said seriously, "I don't know but what it would be a good move for anybody. Yes, I'm sure it would be." "Why don't you come along?" "I probably would, if I was fifteen years younger. But I'm pushing fifty, and I've chased a lot of will-o'-the-wisps in my day. Guess I'm getting chicken-hearted." "Oregon's no will-o'-the-wisp." "I know, but by the time a man gets to be my age he thinks everything is. I stick to what I know, and I can't make out any place unless I think so. I don't think I'd make out in Oregon. Want to sell me your standing hay?" "I'll give it to you." "Don't be so open-hearted; you're going to Oregon and you'll need money. Besides, I winter a lot of stock and hay's worth money to me. Would twenty-five dollars be right?" "Right enough with me." "Good. I'll cut the hay when it's ready for cutting. I swear, Joe, you look like a kid again." "I almost feel like one, Pete. Doggone, it's not that I don't like Missouri. It's just that I sort of felt myself batting my head against a brick wall here, and now we're going to Oregon." Pete nodded wisely. "The world would be just as well off if all men hit down a new road when the old one ends blind. Only most of us lack the courage to get off paths we know. Especially when we're older. I envy you." "Don't be so darn philosophical, Pete. Come on. Let's go in and wait for something to eat." Pete Domley finished his meal and rode away. A great restlessness gnawed at Joe, and he felt his usual imperative urge to be doing something. Only now it was a happy anticipation, and not a frustrating tenseness. Joe glanced at the lowering sun, decided that at least an hour of daylight remained, and a moment later Tad joined him. "Hey, Pa, let's be doin' somethin'. Huh?" "Sure. Let's bring some of that oak and hickory in from the wood lot."