"We'd better find him before he gets too far," Tom said. "I've got a hunch he's not coming back. That's why the food."
"I'll wring the little coward's neck," Bart said as he led the way along the one trail of footprints they had all made to the sand by the sea. They scattered out, calling and looking. Tom, on a hunch, headed for the shoulder of the mountain that jutted out in the sea, while Bart and Pudge went the other way.
The sun was high in the clear blue sky when Tom at last came around the point to the little cove a stream had made in the side of the mountain. He walked up the narrow sandy bank between the red cliffs until a short way in, he found the cases of food and a pile of blankets. His yell echoed off the red cliffs several times before he looked up to see Willie standing on top of the cliff twenty feet above him.
"Come on back to the ship, Willie," Tom called as though Willie was just out for a walk. "We're going to blast off this afternoon. Got to head home."
"I'm not coming back," Willie said. "I'm staying here."
"Be reasonable," Tom shouted, "you can't stay here. Come on back to the ship."
"I'm going to live here. I'm going to colonize," Willie said.
"What?" Tom's voice was unbelieving.
"I'm going to live here," Willie repeated. "Tom, give me your word you won't force me to go back and I'll come down so we can talk."