"Sure."
Joe walked nervously toward the house. Beyond much doubt, they would start for Oregon tomorrow and he had had few arguments with Emma. He felt uneasily that beginning their trip with a quarrel would be a bad omen, and sure to bring bad luck. Joe quailed when he looked in at the door, for Emma bristled to meet him.
"What did you do to Tad?"
Joe braced himself, then became a little angry. "I paddled his hinder for him, hard as I wanted to lay it on!"
"If you hadn't, Joe Tower, I'd have paddled yours! The idea! Shooting at that poor, besotted Indian!"
Joe asked in astonishment, "You're not mad at me!"
"I would be, if you hadn't done a father's duty!"
He put his hand on her shoulder for a moment, and gave her a wry smile. "Did Tad tell you?"
"Tad hasn't been near the house. Barbara told me." She wilted into his arms. "Oh, Joe, do you suppose—?"
Because he knew her so well, Joe knew what she was thinking. At eight years of age all youngsters were harmless, but at eighteen some might be bad and some good. Joe crushed his wife to him.