It crashed on the fringe of the Amazon jungles.
Five Moon pioneers dead. Three uninsured, dependent families. Joshua provided for them, but the critical newspapers overlooked that point. One editorial observed that Joshua Lake would get a rocket to the Moon and back if it took every able-bodied man in the country. The project would have died right there if Joshua had needed money. No bank in the nation would have loaned him a dime. Fortunately he was not yet broke. He started over.
Fortunately?
At times he had wondered. But always, his faith had returned to buoy him up....
Joshua reached out and took Myra's hand. He looked up into the sky. "You may be wrong, my dear. Possibly it's the other way. A man's ambition—" he smiled. "Lee called it an obsession once. A man's dream can keep him alive."
"But why does it have to be so hard? Why can't one of the big corporations help you? They'll profit from your success!"
"At least I had no competition in the fulfillment of my dream."
They were silent for a time; then Myra said, "But now you can rest. We'll go away. We don't need much money. We'll have a garden. You can lie in the sun."
He laughed softly; not with humor; rather from a quiet, new-welling courage. "We're talking as though it were all over—finished, done with. That isn't right."