The Last Hunt
A work of fiction by Tsao Alexander
Waterton Publishing Company
No part of this book was created using Artificial Intelligence (AI).
This is a work of fiction. The events described are imaginary and the settings and characters are fictitious and not intended to represent actual places, companies, or persons.
Copyright © 2026 by Waterton Publishing Company. All Rights Reserved.
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THE LAST HUNT
CHAPTER 5
Jane meanwhile was trying to figure out how many porters would be needed and who among the porters was available for the Stevens safari. While Jane worked on the porter list, Gabelo assessed supplies in the storerooms. From one he noted six cabin tents and awnings, from another he took stock of food and water, from another chairs and tables, and from another cookware. He also checked on bedding. Then he went to see how Jane was coming along.
“Hello Jane, you know that last safari, the guy from England and his wife, I don’t think the gear has been returned yet.” Gabelo pulled a chair up to the table where Jane was making notes on a piece of notepaper.
“Is that a problem?” she asked; “Do we have enough other gear in the bins?”
Gabelo rubbed his chin and answered cautiously. “I don’t know. It depends on how many porters. How many days in the bush. How many times we have to move camp. Do you yet know the porter list?”
“Just four I think,” Jane answered. “We shouldn’t need more than four. It’s only the one guy and we will drive in as far as possible as usual. Speaking of which, how many Land Cruisers are available?”
“Two.” The tone of Gabelo’s response conveyed his concern.
“Two? Only two? Where the hell are the other ones?” Jane hit the table with her pencil. She tended toward drama, but the thought of cramming all the people and equipment in two Land Cruisers, even with trailers, was daunting.
“I think that other safari; I think they are still out; that’s what I’ve been trying to say.” Gabelo knew of Jane’s temperament and was not similarly responsive. “Those guys went out a week ago and they are still out. Must not have had good fortune.”
“Gab, I wasn’t here when they went out, do you know where they went? Does Clarence know that they have not yet returned?” Jane had calmed down and was reclining in her chair.
Gab shook his head; “I do not know. Then he added, “I think those English were after buffalo. But I’m not sure.”
“Where is he?” Jane was referring to Clarence and getting agitated again. “We better find him and see what is going on, don’t you think. I mean, we can probably pull this trek off with just the two vehicles, but still, we need to know what is going on with the English couple.”
At the house, Jane and Gabelo learned from a housekeeper that Clarence was out and expected back before dinner. The two decided to talk with Vince and Shammi, a reclusive tracker who was with them at lunch and stayed in one of the outermost cottages.
Before leaving the house, Gabelo took a couple of dog biscuits from the jar by the front door and gave them to two mastiffs lounging on the veranda. Gabelo wanted to keep those big hounds thinking favorably of him.
Vince didn’t know anything about the English couple other than the fact they were out and had not returned. He also did not seem too concerned. “They’re probably just cleaning up,” he said; “I wouldn’t worry.”
Jane never did care for Vince, his cocky demeanor, his nonchalant laissez faire approach to everything. She just shook her head and motioned for Gabelo to, “Come on, let’s go see if Shammi’s around, he may know something.”
“Ciao toots.” Vince winked and smiled. Jane was not his type, and he certainly wasn’t her type, so, nothing lost he figured, when dealing with her.
The two mastiffs soon came running full-speed toward Gabelo from the veranda, hoping for another treat, perhaps having a little fun, but in any event an amazing show of energy on a hot afternoon. “Ai! Shit!” Gabelo yelped. “They will knock me over and slobber all over me! Jane, make them stop!” Gabelo had been pinned by the two beasts on more than one occasion.
Jane hollered at the charging pair, “Mako, Tommy, stay!” She repeated it, “Stay! Stay!” She held her hand out to emphasize “Stop!” Gabelo huddled behind her. Mako and Tommy stopped running and came to a standstill. “Good boys!” Jane said, as if talking to preschoolers. “Now, go home!” She pointed at the house; “Go home!”
Mako and Tommy lay down in the red dirt. Jane tugged Gabelo’s arm, “Come on, I think that’s the best we can hope for,” and the two walked cautiously toward Shammi’s cabana.
When they got near, Gabelo yelled, “Shammi! Are you in there? It’s me and Jane! We just need to talk with you for a second. May we come closer?” This was standard protocol when approaching Shammi’s cottage. He was not only reclusive, but antisocial, and at times rather unfriendly. As a tracker, Shammi had a keen sense of his role in nature, as a participant, and he also had an exceptional ability to hit a moving target at long range with his Weatherby.
Jane and Gabelo stood quietly a good fifty meters from Shammi’s front door. Mako and Tommy walked up behind Jane and sat quietly as they watched the scene unfold. In a few minutes, the door opened only slightly, and a grey-haired African man looked through the crack.
“What you want Gab?” The old man’s voice was deep and raspy.
