r this new world. It was a good world and the men who grew up
on it in the years to come would love it with all their hearts. But
Roddy could not give up his reaching back, his longing for Earth. He
shrank before the problem of their doubtful food supply. He caught
snatches of adult worries and nourished them with a dark agony that made
it appear to Jorden sometimes as if the boy were walking in a nightmare.

It had been cruel and brutal to bring him. But there was no use blaming
himself for that. If only Bonnie would stop blaming him! He couldn't
have known ahead of time that Roddy was one of those who could not
be--transplanted. Fervently, he prayed for the boy's life now and vowed
that when the ships came again he would be free to go home.

And always Bonnie's eyes were upon him. Sitting in the firelight of the
cabin, he could feel her staring at him, accusing him, hating him for
bringing them to Serrengia.

Once he looked up and caught her glance. "Don't hate me so much,
Bonnie!" he said. "You're driving Roddy down. I can feel it. Reach out
to him with your love and don't let him go."

But Roddy said later that same evening, "Maybe I'll go back to Earth
now, Daddy. Do you think that's where little boys go when they die?"

He wanted to return so badly that he was willing to die to achieve it,
Jorden thought. That's what Dr. Babbit said: "Roddy doesn't even want to
live, Jorden. As incredible as it seems, he's literally dying of
homesickness. I'm afraid there's not a thing I can do for him. I'm
sorry, but it's up to you. You and Bonnie are the only ones who can give
him a desire to remain, if anyone can."

Roddy's hate for Serrengia was greater than any desire they could induce
in him to live. With ease, he conquered all the miracle drugs Dr. Babbit
lavished from the colony's restricted store. He died on the sixth night
after Boggs' visit.

* * * * *

The funeral was held in the little community church built when the
colonists first laid out Maintown. Mark and Bonnie Jorden were almost
oblivious to the words spoken over the body of Roddy by the Reverend
Wagner, who had come as the colonists' spiritual adviser.

Bonnie's hands were folded on her lap, and she kept her eyes down
throughout the service. She was aware of the agony within Mark Jorden.
It was a real agony, and its strength almost frightened her, for she had
never before seen such a response in any man who had gone thro