"Why do aspens shake, Jim?" he asked.
"They're soft. I figger their branches ain't tight's other trees."
"That isn't the reason at all," Ellis dissented. "The Cross on which Christ was crucified was made of aspen, and since then all aspens have trembled."
"Whar'd you l'arn that?" Snedeker demanded.
"I'm just naturally smart. Besides, I saw it in a book."
"Book l'arnin'," Snedeker pronounced gravely, "don't do nobody no good. Gives 'em fancy ideas in a plain kentry. You ought to tell the missus that, Joe."
Joe grinned. Emma had been teaching Tad and baby Emma the fundamentals of English, arithmetic, and spelling. It had helped her pass the time and, in spite of Snedeker's ideas on the subject, it would help the youngsters too.
"Your freckle-faced young 'un's comin'," Snedeker said.
Mike came racing back to leap on Tad. The dog frolicked around him, wagging his tail furiously. Tad pushed him away and Mike fell in at his master's side. Joe smiled. Mike hadn't earned his keep in Missouri or on the Trail either, but it was a comfort to know that he was there and he was a companion for Tad.
"Can I take the rifle an' go huntin', Pa?" Tad asked.