Free Highway of Eternity by Clifford D. Simak Page A

humorous little jig, then, apparently satisfied that they represented no danger, sat down with all deliberation, wrapping his tail comfortably around his feet. Watching them closely, he lifted his upper lip in the beginning of a snarl, then let it relax, covering the fangs he had displayed.
    â€œThere will be others around,” said Boone. “Ordinarily, wolves don’t travel alone.”
    â€œAre they dangerous?”
    â€œHungry enough, I suppose they could be. This one looks well fed.”
    â€œWolves and rattlesnakes,” said Enid. “I’m not sure I like this place.”
    As they rounded the spur of sandstone, Boone halted so suddenly that Enid, following close behind, bumped into him.
    The spur of sandstone curved inward, back into the butte, then curved out again, forming a rocky pocket. On the inside curve of the pocket stood a massive beast.
    A great, black, woolly head with a pair of heavy horns, six feet or more from tip to tip, faced them. Its head hung low. A heavy beard hanging from the lower jaw swept the ground.
    Boone grasped Enid by the arm and slowly backed away. The red-rimmed eyes of the beast glared at them out of a tangle of wool.
    â€œEasy,” warned Boone. “No quick moves. He could charge us. The wolves have been pestering him. He is old and desperate.”
    Reaching the point of the spur they had rounded to step into the pocket, Boone stopped. He let loose of Enid’s arm and, using both hands, lifted the rifle to ready.
    â€œA buffalo,” he said. “A bison. Americans called them buffalo.”
    â€œHe’s so big!”
    â€œAn old bull. He’ll run a ton or better. Not the bison of the twentieth century. An earlier type. Latifrons , maybe. I don’t know.”
    â€œBut wolves, you say. Wolves are no match for him.”
    â€œHe’s old and probably sick. In the end they’ll wear him down. Wolves have the patience to wait. He’s got his back to the wall, making his last stand.”
    â€œThere are a couple of wolves over there. Another partway up the slope.”
    â€œI told you,” said Boone. “They hunt in packs.”
    â€œThat poor bull,” she said. “Is there anything we can do to help him?”
    â€œThe kindest thing would be to shoot him, but I can’t do that now. He still may have a chance to get away, although I doubt it. You see that bird up there?”
    â€œI saw it a while ago, just floating in circles.”
    â€œHe’s waiting. He knows what the end will be. Once the wolves are done, there’ll be something left for him. Come on away. We’ll look for water elsewhere.”
    A short time later, they found water, a small seepage trickling out from under a sandstone ledge. It went nowhere, soaking into the thirsty ground, forming a small spot of wetness before it disappeared into the soil. Boone scraped out a hole into which it could collect. They went back to the traveler to find something that would serve as a water bucket. All they could find was a small saucepan. When they returned to the pool Boone had dug, enough water had collected to fill the pan.
    Boone saw that he had been right about the sun. It had been in the western sky. It had moved appreciably closer to the horizon.
    â€œThere’ll be wood up in that juniper thicket,” he said. “We’ll need a fire.”
    â€œI wish we had an axe,” said Enid. “I went through the stuff Horace flung into the traveler. Food, blankets, this saucepan, a frying pan, a fire-starter, but no axe.”
    â€œWe’ll get along,” said Boone.
    They made two trips to the junipers, hauling in more than a night’s supply of wood. By that time the sun had set. Boone started a fire while Enid rummaged through the rucksack to find food.
    â€œI think the best bet is the ham,” she said. “There also is a loaf of bread. How does that sound to you?”
    â€œIt seems excellent,”