The Star Beast by Robert A. Heinlein

The road meandered up the canyon and came out on a tableland; here was a barrier across the pavement: ROAD CLOSED. . . VEHICULAR PASSAGE FORBIDDEN BEYOND THIS POINT. Johnnie got down and looked it over. It was a single heavy timber supported at the chest height. “Lunimie, can you walk over that without touching it?”

“Sure, Johnnie.”

“All right Take it slowly. You mustn’t knock it down. Don’t even brush against it.”

“I won’t, Johnnie.” Nor did he. Instead of stepping over it as a horse might step over a lower barrier Lummox retracted pairs of legs in succession and flowed over it.

Johnnie crawled under the barrier and joined him. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Neither did I.”

The road was rough ahead. Jobnnie stopped to lash down the groceries with a line under Lummox’s keel, then added a bight across his own thighs. “All right, Lummie. Let’s have some speed. But don’t gallop; I don’t want to fall off.”

“Hang on, Johnnie!” Lummox picked up speed, retaining. his normal foot pattern. He rumbled along at a. fast trot, his gait smoothed out by his many legs. Johnnie found that he was very tired, both in body and spirit. He felt safe, now that they were away from houses and traveled roads, and fatigue hit him. He leaned back and Lummox adjusted his contours to him. The swaying motion and steady pounding of massive feet had soothing effect. Presently he slept.

Lummox went on surefootedily over the broken slabs, He was using his night sight and there was no danger of stumbling in the dark. He knew that Johnnie was asleep and kept his gait as smooth as possible. But in time he got bored and decided on a nap, too. He had not slept well the nights he had spent away from home. . . always some silliness going on and it had fretted him not to know where Johnnie was. So now he rigged out his guardian eye, closed his others and shifted control over to the secondary brain back in his rump. Lummox proper went to sleep, leaving that minor fraction that never slept to perform the simple tasks of watching for road hazards and of supervising the tireless pounding of his eight great legs.

John Thomas woke as the stars were fading in the morning sky. He stretched his sore muscles and shivered, There were high mountains all around and the road crawled along the side of one, with a sheer drop to a stream far below. He sat up. “Hey, Lummie!”

No answer. He shouted again. This time Lummox answered sleepily, “What’s the matter, Johnnie?’

“You’ve been asleep,” he accused.

“You didn’t say not to, Johnnie.”

“Well.. . all right. Are we on the same road?”

Lummox consulted his alter ego and answered. “Sure. Did you want another road?”

“No. But we’ve got to get off this one. It’s getting light.”

“Why?”

John Thomas did not know how to answer that question; trying to explain to Lummox that he was under sentence of death and must hide did not appeal to him. “We have to, that’s why. But just keep going now. I’ll let you know.”

The stream climbed up to meet them; in a mile or so the road lay only a few feet above it. They came to a place where the stream bed widened out into a boulder field, with water only in a central channel. “Whoa!” called out Johnnie.

“Breakfast?” inquired Lummox.

“Not yet. See those rocks down there?”

“I want you to step wide onto those rocks. Don’t put your big feet on that soft shoulder dirt. Step from the pavement to the rocks. Get me?

“Don’t leave tracks?” Lummox asked doubtfully.

“That’s right. If anybody comes along and sees tracks, you’ll have to go back downtown again-because they’ll follow the tracks and find us. See?” .

“I won’t leave any tracks, Johnnie.”

Lummox went down onto the dry stream bed like a gargantuan inchworm. The maneuver caused John Thomas to grab for his safety line with one hand and for his supplies with the other. He yelped.

Lummox stopped and said, “You all right, Johnnie?”

“Yes. You just surprised me. Upstream now and stay on the rocks.” They followed the stream, found a place to cross, then followed it on the other side. It swung away from the road and soon they were several hundred yards from it. It was now almost broad daylight and John Thomas was beginning to worry about air reconnaissance, even though it was unlikely that the alarm would be out so soon.