Free Highway of Eternity by Clifford D. Simak

a moment,” he told Enid. “Give me a chance to check what’s out there.”
    He jumped out of the port, straightening swiftly when he landed, the rifle up and ready. It was all damn foolishness, he told himself. There was nothing here. If it was southwestern North America of 50,000 years ago, there’d be only the game herds and the prowling predators; those would not be lying in wait for stray humans who might come stumbling in and who, in any case, probably would make poor eating.
    He was right. There was nothing. The land was empty except for the black dots that he had spotted earlier and had recognized as grazing game herds.
    The traveler lay at the foot of one of the buttes that thrust up here and there across the plain. Somewhat less than halfway up the slope stood a small grove of scraggy trees—junipers, more than likely. Except for the clump of trees and ragged haphazard carpets of grass, the butte was bare. Occasional stratified ledges of sandstone poked out of the bareness.
    Enid came up beside him, saying nothing.
    â€œWe have it to ourselves,” he said. “The traveler knew what it was doing. Except for a desert area, it picked the most out-of-the-way place it could find.”
    â€œThe traveler had nothing to do with it,” she said. “It was just happenstance.”
    The sun was halfway down the sky—Boone took it to be the western sky. Why he thought so, he didn’t know.
    A lone bird drifted above, not moving its wings, coasting on a thermal; a scavenger out to spot a meal. Small boulders lay here and there. Out from behind one of them came a wriggler. It wriggled its way across the sand, moving away from them.
    â€œHe and his kind are what we have to watch out for,” said Boone.
    â€œA snake? What kind?”
    â€œA rattler. A rattlesnake.”
    â€œI never heard of that kind. My acquaintance with snakes has been limited. I don’t think I have seen more than one or two in all my life.”
    â€œSome of them can be dangerous. Not necessarily deadly, but dangerous.”
    â€œThe rattlesnake?”
    â€œDangerous. Sometimes deadly. But he warns you, buzzing at you with the rattles on his tail. Not always, but usually.”
    â€œYou asked what we should do. I said I had no idea. How about you?”
    â€œIt’s early yet,” said Boone. “We’ve barely gotten here. You bought us some time. Let us use it.”
    â€œYou mean to stay here?”
    â€œNot for long. There is nothing to keep us, nothing here at all. But here we can sit quietly for a while, collect our thoughts, and talk things over. In the meantime, let’s look around a bit.”
    He started off, along the base of the butte. Enid trotted to keep up.
    â€œWhat are you looking for?”
    â€œNothing, actually. Just the lay of the land, to get some idea where we are and what might be here. It’s just possible there might be a spring flowing out of the butte. That’s sandstone up there on the slope. Water percolates down through sandstone. Sometimes, when it hits a less porous stratum, it flows out.”
    â€œYou know the strangest things.”
    â€œJust simple woodcraft. Knowing how nature works.”
    â€œYou’re a barbarian, Boone.”
    He chuckled. “Yes, of course I am. What did you expect?”
    â€œOur people were barbarians, too, up in the time we were born in. But not like you. We had lost touch with what you call nature. Up in our time there is little nature left. Wild nature, that is.”
    A jagged spur of limestone jutted out of the side of the butte. As they were circling around it, a gray animal jumped out from behind the outthrust of stone, ran for fifty feet or so, then swung around to have a look at them.
    Boone laughed. “A wolf,” he said. “One of the big prairie wolves. He’s puzzled about what we are.”
    The wolf did look puzzled. He sidled cautiously away from them, dancing a