Barbara suddenly exclaimed, "Mother!" Emma followed her daughter's anguished gaze, and she suppressed a gasp. The rooster and six hens hadn't been out of their crate since they'd been put into it, though Joe had cleaned the crate every day. Now, somehow, the crate had come open and the six hens were scuttling about the grass while the rooster flapped wings that longed for exercise. Barbara said, "We must catch them quickly!" "No," as always, Emma rose to the occasion. "Leave them alone and do nothing to frighten them. They'll roost somewhere tonight and we can catch them easier." She kept an anxious eye on the chickens as she mixed bread dough. The chickens were very precious and Emma did not know whether or not they could be replaced. But she would not let her children know that she worried or they might be troubled too. Barbara got a pailful of water from the spring and started peeling potatoes. Emma cut a generous chunk from the ham Yancey Garrow had given them and got it ready for baking. Sam returned with a huge armload of wood. "You want a fi'?" he asked. "Oh, thank you. If you will, please." The Negro built a fire in the fireplace and Emma dismissed him. Tired of playing, the younger children had cached their treasured frog somewhere near the spring and were lying listlessly in the grass. Twilight came, and with immense gratification Emma saw the chickens go back into their crate. It was a good thing, for certainly they could not ride all the way to Oregon without being out of the crate, and if they would go back of their own accord they could be freed every night. Not until twilight started to fade into night did Joe and Tad return. "By gosh!" Joe exclaimed. "You really have a camp set up!" Emma said, "The colored man helped a lot. Anybody hungry hereabouts?" "Hungry as a bear and three cubs." "Good." She put the food on the table, cutting generous slices from the ham and serving the children first because Joe wanted it that way. There was milk for them, coffee for Joe and herself. Emma placed a heaping plate of fluffy biscuits beside the potato dish. Joe ate in silence, noticing the new gaiety in Emma's face and manner, and he thought that maybe now she was feeling better about the whole trip. He finished, leaned back in his chair, and sighed happily. "I've got the six picked." "Did you have any trouble?" "Nope. Just had to look over a lot of mules. Got me six blacks, alike as six peas in a pod. Put 'em together in a little corral, and there won't be a prettier six-mule team in Missouri." "Ma," Tad spoke up. "Pa says it's all right with him if I go into town tomorrow." Emma said doubtfully, "I don't know--" "He'll come to no harm," Joe assured her. "Well, if your father thinks it's all right, you may go." "Oh gee! Good!"