He was too late. The two coach dogs swerved from the cart to take Mike, one on either side. There was a shrill yelp as Mike slashed the first one, and a scream of pain as he got the second. The two dogs streaked back to their cart and the driver made a U turn that brought him up beside Joe's wagon. "Is that your dog?" he demanded furiously. "Now, see here. Your dogs tackled--" "Is that your dog?" the other repeated. Joe's anger flared. "Yes! What do you aim to do about it?" "Give you a horsewhipping." He took a ridiculous little whip from a socket in his cart and shook it threateningly. Joe caught up the long-lashed bull whip that he sometimes used on the mules. "If you want to play--" The lash snapped within an inch of the other's ear and the mules jumped nervously. With a practiced hand, Joe held them in. He faced the dandified youngster in the cart. "Smart thing for you to do is leave me alone, stranger. Your dogs started the fight." "You barbarians from the back country--!" "That'll be enough too." Without another word, the outraged young man wheeled his cart and drove on. Joe started the mules, and for a second he remained furious. Then he chuckled. "Give me a horsewhipping, huh! He couldn't break a soft-shelled egg with that little switch!" Tad came alongside the wagon and looked into it, grinning and starry-eyed. "Gee, Pa, that was great! Why'nt you tease him into fightin'? You could of cleaned his clock like nothin'!" "There'll be no fights anywhere if I can help it. Speaking of that, keep your dog on a rope while we're in Independence. It might save trouble." "Aw, Pa--" "You heard me." Joe tossed the youngster a length of rope. "Use this." Joe drove on and all except Mike, who sulked under confinement or restriction and who was doubly offended now because there were plenty of dogs on the street, marveled at the sights and sounds of a bustling metropolis like Independence. There were more ox, horse, and mule teams on any one street than passed through Tenney's Crossing in three months. Joe didn't like the place because he preferred the open country and villages, and he'd be just as happy when he got out of it. But it was interesting, and since they had to go through anyway, they might as well look. Somewhere was a ferry that would take them across the Missouri, and Independence was the last great city they'd see. Except for Salt Lake City--and the Oregon Trail did not go through there--everything between Independence and Oregon was still settlements, missions, and army and trading posts.