Short Stories by Robert A. Heinlein Vol 2 Part 68

'Oh!' he panted. 'Be careful.'

'Take it easy.' Grimes caressed the dog's head and spoke to him. When he had calmed down, Grimes grabbed a handful of hide between the dog's shoulders, measured his spot, and jabbed in a hypo. He rubbed the area. 'There, old fellow!

That will make you feel better.'

Getting back caused Waldo to be rocked again, but he bore it in martyred silence.

The ambulance made just one jerky manoeuvre after it entered the atmosphere. Both

Waldo and the dog yelped. 'Private s.h.i.+p~' the pilot yelled back. 'Didn't heed my right-of-way lights.' He muttered something about women drivers.

'It wasn't his fault,' Grimes told Waldo. 'I saw it.'

The pilot set them down with exquisite gentleness in a clearing which had been prepared between the highway and Schneider's house. A party of men was waiting for them there; under Grimes's supervision they unslung the tank and carried Waldo out into the open air. The evolution was performed slowly and carefully, but necessarily involved some degree of b.u.mping and uneven movement.

Waldo stood it with silent fort.i.tude, but tears leaked out from under his lowered lids.

Once outside he opened his eyes and asked, 'Where is Baldur?'

'I unstrapped him,' Grimes informed him, 'but he did not follow us out.'

Waldo called out huskily, 'Here, Baldur! Come to me, boy.'

Inside the car the dog heard his boss's voice, raised his head, and gave a low bark. He still felt that terrifying sickness, but he inched forward on his belly, attempting to comply. Grimes reached the door in time to see what happened.

The dog reached the edge of his shelf and made a grotesque attempt to launch himself in the direction from which he had heard Waldo's voice. He tried the only method of propulsion he knew; no doubt he expected to sail through the door and arrest his flight against the tank on the ground. Instead he fell several feet to the inner floor plates, giving one agonized yelp as he did so, and breaking his fall most clumsily with stiffened forelegs.

He lay sprawled where he had landed, making no noise, but not attempting to move. He was trembling violently.

Grimes came up to him and examined him superficially, enough to a.s.sure him that the beast was not really hurt, then returned to the outside.

'Baldur's had a little accident,' he told Waldo; 'he's not hurt, but the poor devil doesn't know how to walk. You had best leave him in the s.h.i.+p.'

Waldo shook his head slightly. 'I want him with me. Arrange a litter.'

Grimes got a couple of the men to help him, obtained a stretcher from the pilot of the ambulance, and undertook to move the dog. One of the men said, 'I don't know as I care for this job. That dog looks vicious. Look't those eyes.'

'He's not,' Grimes a.s.sured him. 'He's just scared out of his wits. Here,

I'll take his head.'

'What's the matter with him? Same thing as the fat guy?'

'No, he's perfectly well and strong; he's just never learned to walk.

This is his first trip to Earth.'

'Well, I'll be a cross-eyed owl!'

'I knew a case like it,' volunteered the other. 'Dog raised in Lunopolis - first week he was on Earth he wouldn't move -just squatted down, and howled, and made messes on the floor.'

'So has this one,' the first said darkly.

They placed Baldur alongside Waldo's tub. With great effort Waldo raised himself on one elbow, reached out a hand, and placed it on the creature's head. The dog licked it; his trembling almost ceased. 'There! There!'

Waldo. whispered. 'It's pretty bad, isn't it? Easy, old friend, take it easy.'

Baldur thumped his tail.

It took four men to carry Waldo and two more to handle Baldur. Gramps

Schneider was waiting for them at the door of his house. He said nothing as they approached, but indicated that they were to carry Waldo inside.

The men with the dog hesitated. 'Him, too,' he said.

When the others had withdrawn - even Grimes returned to the neighbourhood of the s.h.i.+p - Schneider spoke again. 'Welcome, Mr Waldo Jones.'

'I thank you for your welcome, Grandfather Schneider.'

The old man nodded graciously without speaking. He went to the side of

Baldur's litter. Waldo felt impelled to warn him that the beast was dangerous with strangers, but some odd restraint - perhaps the effect of that enervating gravitational field - kept him from speaking in time.

Then he saw that he need not bother.

Baldur had ceased his low whimpering, had raised his head, and was licking

Gramps Schneider's chin. His tail thumped cheerfully. Waldo felt a sudden tug of jealousy; the dog had never been known to accept a stranger without

Waldo's specific injunction. This was disloyalty - treason! But he suppressed the twinge and coolly a.s.sessed the incident as a tactical advantage to him.

Schneider pushed the dog's face out of the way and went over him thoroughly, prodding, thumping, extending his limbs. He grasped Baldur's muzzle, pushed back his lips, and eyed his gums. He peeled back the dog's eyelids. He then dropped the matter and came to Waldo's side. 'The dog is not sick,' he said;

'his mind confuses. What made it?'

Waldo told him about Baldur's unusual background. Schneider nodded acceptance of the matter - Waldo could not tell whether he had understood or not - and turned his attention to Waldo. 'It is not good for a sprottly lad to lie abed.

The weakness - how long has it had you?'

'All my life, Grandfather.'

'That is not good.' Schneider went over him as he had gone over Baldur.

Waldo, whose feeling for personal privacy was much more intense than that of the ordinarily sensitive man, endured it for pragmatic reasons. It was going to be necessary, he felt, to wheedle and cajole this strange old creature.

It would not do to antagonize him.

To divert his own attention from the indignity he chose to submit to, and to gain further knowledge of the old quack, Waldo let his eyes rove the room.