Swell Veldt Part 7

Well, thought Sahib Sackable, while streaming last night’s used gin on a handy bush and taking stock of his desolate surroundings, I didn’t get to be Earl for nothing. It required a lot of luck, money and being carefully born to just the right parents. I’ll have to use all those skills now to get me out of this fix.

“Bongo you bloody bugger” he shouts aloud. “Bring me the phone.” But there is no Bongo and there is no phone and along with noticing that his shoes are getting wet comes the realization that he’s doing two things into the wind. The second is shouting.


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Male lions are not particularly noted for their sense of scent, nor for keen eyesight or fleetness of foot. If one thinks about it, he will note that most of the film footage of the species has them lying about taking the sun and awaiting the delivery of their dinner by their female counterparts. In this respect they are much like male humans. Why the females of either species puts up with this is cause for wonder, but it is so and although not germane to this story is a thought in passing much like the one Leo was having as he prowled about the swell veldt trying to pick up the scent or sight of anything at all edible. Leo, as noted before, has neither mate nor pride and has to fall back on his own prowess as a hunter to survive. Were the lion documentarians to stumble on Leo as a subject, their footage of his prowess might well be titled Blind Luck.

The bright African morning had found Leo equidistance between the rhino trackers and the lost Earl. There was in fact a rhino with a bad temper – which is a bit like saying a leopard with spots – snuffling about and Leo wanted no part of that program. His choice was to move toward the trackers who had already made a mess of one night or toward the faint, odd scent arriving from upwind; a scent British pub goers would call used Tanqueray, but to a lion, a scent that meant man made. As there was no other potential food source in evidence, Leo loped off to investigate its source.

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Okay the blasted sun rises where, thought Sahib Sackable. As far as he could tell the only answer was…in the sky. He was looking up and to his chagrin the sun was looking down. Neither appeared to be moving. Sahib quit staring at the yellow ball and spun around a couple of times in a full circle. This action, combined with the bright little spots in front of his eyes acquired by the sun watching, gave him a bit of the same buzz that was his familiar state when gin was available. “That way” he said, pointing confidently to his fore, “That way.” Then he spun about again, but missed the full 360 by a few degrees which left him trotting off diagonally to “that way.” No matter. His current course had him intersecting with Leo in roughly four hours. They could both use the company.