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Gray-haired, delicate, with sorrowful eyes and long, white hands, Uncle Isaac sat in his big, carved, oaken chair.,“That’s tough luck,” said Bob, thinking that if he sympathized Jerry might let something fall which would be useful. But his ruse did not work, for Jerry merely said:,“In his office.”,“By no means. Comparatively few. Thad Holman never knew a thing about it. They were mostly dissatisfied cowboys and unsuccessful squatters who saw profit for themselves in a war with Mexico.”,While light bounding our spirits shall flow;,“But didn’t you have an awful time?”,“You bet you did,” was Bob’s answer. “Good for you. I don’t think there is any question but what the cattlemen are behind this.”,Jerry, however, was not so pessimistic. “Oh, I’m not beaten yet. I think I’ve got a scheme that’ll work, although it means we won’t be dry again until we get out of the canyon.”,“Well, John,” said Mother. “What is the matter?”,The man knew his was a losing fight yet he wanted to struggle on. Through the years he had watched over his motherless boy, he had dreamed dreams. He had seen the time when Bob would enter his office, when he would become a partner and at last when he would take onto his young shoulders the whole burden of the work. It had been a good dream and he was loath to give it up. He made one more effort.,Only when he had carried all his treasure to the door, did he realize that in all probability his work had been in vain.,“Is that so?” asked the little cripple..