A Swell Veldt Part 10

It was not going well for Lord Sahib Sackable who now thought of himself as Lord I Need a Drink, as he stumbled across the vast veldt. Some of the spots he was seeing before his eyes took to landing on parts of his exposed skin and nipping him viciously while the others remained in place despite his efforts to wave them away. Bongo and his boys had slipped off with the Earl’s gin, but had left him otherwise well provisioned. No matter, where the Earl was least equipped was between his ears, the place where good sense had been replaced with bad temper. Without Bongo to lead him about the bush, Sahib was hopelessly inept.

It would be difficult to say which of his many mistakes was his first, but among the early ones was the discharging of many rounds of ammo into the air. The Earl had done this, not in hopes that someone might have heard and rushed to his rescue, but rather in an angry fit of pique that to him, required noise above the decibel levels achieved by his bellowing. When his own ears had begun to ring from the sustained barrage, he had put down the rifle, the only weapon left to him, and taken note of the many shell casings lying on the ground about him. I wonder if, he thought, and then checking confirmed, how many bullets were in fact left. They totaled three.

As the day wore on and warmed on as well, Sackable began to discard the few possessions he had brought along. Back pack and utility belt were abandoned first and then bits of seemingly unnecessary clothing, jacket, scarf, pith helmet and whatnot were left strewn behind him. The Lord was not accustomed to carrying much beyond himself and, when fatigued, not even that. They don’t call them bearers for nothing was his motto at such times. In a little less than two hours he had reduced his burden to rifle, canteen and a mounting surliness that rivaled the fabled rhino’s. Beastly it was and beastly it would need be.