ThisTaleSpin fanfic is respectfully dedicated to the late Chris Barat: Disney animation enthusiast, admirer of Walt Kelly's comic strip Pogo and the TV series Kimba, The White Lion. His comments and reviews in the fan publication W.T.F.B. were always informative, thought-provoking and fun to read. His web log was even more so. He will be missed.
CLIFF HANGER
Baloo glanced at the view outside the cockpit windows. Rocky islands to the left, a mountainous coastline to the right, the Sea Duck droned steadily up the waterway that the northlanders called 'The Slot.' It was a great day for flying, just like the last time he'd been up here. Then the pilot turned to look at his young navigator in the right-hand seat.
"I hope yer not worried about Sven an' Olav, Kit. They won't be doin' their act on you, this trip, now that you're my navigator," Baloo remarked.
Kit glanced up from the chart and smiled at the pilot.
"Nope! We talked a bit when I was here the first time, Baloo. They said that since I'm part of the Sea Duck's crew, that makes me a regular." Kit paused and a thoughtful expression slid across his face for a moment. "I . . . I've never been . . . somebody, before."
Baloo hid a smile. In the two months since he'd met Kit, the young cub had mentioned his past life only two or three times. Each little hint of what it was like — and how life as Baloo's navigator was different — made them more of a team.
Kit studied the coastline and then pointed to the right at an opening in the mountains. "False Bay. Right, Baloo?"
"Yep. We want the next one."
Kit checked the time, and after five minutes said, "This one, Papa Bear!" Baloo turned the control yoke and swung the seaplane into the long, narrow fjord that led to Foggy Bay. After a minute or so, Kit became surprised by what he didn't see.
"But . . . where's the fog, Papa Bear?"
Baloo chuckled. "Durin' the summer there ain't any, Kit. It's too warm, and the nights are short." He pointed ahead, toward the land beyond the open part of the bay. "But up country you can get some nasty weather, even in the summer. It can be sunny here in Foggy Bay, and snowin' up at Frozen Bird Pass."
Kit nodded, and gazed ahead of the seaplane as it swept out over the bay. That was the main pier . . . count over to the left . . . there! He could see a figure standing at the end of the pier, under the sign that said 'SOURDOUGH'S SUPPLIES.'
Baloo brought the Sea Duck down with his usual skill. The hull kissed the water gently before he closed the throttles and let the twin-engine seaplane settle onto the surface of the bay. Almost at once Kit was out of his seat and hurrying to the side door, ready to take the mooring lines onto the pier. As they slid slowly up to the pilings, Kit hurled one line to the figure on the pier. Then he leaped ashore himself, moments before the fuselage bumped gently against the fenders made of old ropes that hung down toward the water.
The large, muscular polar bear on the pier caught the line and firmly snubbed it to a piling, while Baloo cut the engines and Kit looped a second rope around a cleat. Then the white-furred bear straightened up and called out to Kit.
"Godmiddag! Hur mår do, Kit?" At Kit's puzzled expression, the bear grinned and repeated, "Good afternoon, I mean. How are you, Kit?"
"Oh, I'm fine, Mr. . . . "
"Just call me 'Olav,"' he smiled. "'Mister Svenson' would sound too formal when you're talking to a dockworker."
"But, you and Mr. Olavson aren't just dockworkers," Kit protested. "Sitka told me you're both really educated!"
"That's true, my young friend. But in the north country a diploma matters far less than the ability to build a stout shelter against a storm on the trail." Olav turned towards Baloo, who had stepped out of the Sea Duck and on to the dock.
"Or being able to find your way across two hundred miles of trackless tundra in clouds and snow, eh, Baloo?" The pilot nodded.
"Kit can do that, Olav; he's one sharp navigator, let me tell ya." Baloo glanced around the pier as he spoke.
"Say, where's Sven? Usually, both you fellas meet the Duck when I bring in a load for Sourdough."
"Oh, Sven is doing some geological survey work for the railroad." Olav pointed north-east toward the mountains, and explained that his co-worker had been hired by the company which operated the railroad that ran from Foggy Bay almost two hundred miles into the interior. A ledge on the cliff near the summit of Frozen Bird Pass was being examined, to see if it needed to be blasted loose before it fell on its own, but at the wrong time.
"Oh, yeah," Baloo slowly replied. "He did that sort o' thing in the Nordmark Army, didn't he?"
"Yes. When he wasn't building tunnels, gun emplacements and troop shelters," Olav answered. He looked at Kit with a thoughtful expression, and added, "Have you ever been inside a gold mine?"
"Uh, no, sir."
"Well, if you have a day to spare, perhaps I could show you around one. It's only an hour's flight from here. Sitka has been after me to show her the Long Ridge Mine, and I think the owners would let me guide the two of you through the tunnels."
Kit felt a flash of excitement for a moment, but then managed to say, "Thanks, Olav, I'd like that. That is, if we can stay for a day."
Baloo grinned. "I sorta reckon we could, Kit."
"Good! Let's get this cargo unloaded, then. Did you bring the Caterpiggle tracks we ordered, Baloo?"
"Yep! Two sets of 'em." Kit hopped back in the Sea Duck and went to the controls for the stern loading hatch, while Olav and Baloo shifted the mooring lines and slowly turned the seaplane until the hatch was against the pier. At Baloo's signal, Kit opened the hatch and let it swing down to the surface of the pier. Then he got a large, brown envelope from the cockpit and hopped out of the plane.
"Papa Bear? Shouldn't I take the paperwork to the office?"
"Huh? Oh, yeah, go right ahead." As the two bears began to unstrap the crates and boxes in the hold, Kit trotted down the pier toward the office.
At the door Kit paused for a second or two, and then knocked. A female voice inside called out, "Come on in!" He turned the handle and pushed the door open.
The figure at the desk had her back turned as Kit came in. He closed the door behind him, cleared his throat and spoke. "Uh, Miss Sitka . . . ?"
The ground-squirrel woman turned around in her chair. Kit felt an odd touch of disappointment, for it wasn't Sitka. Before he could say anything, and while he was still wondering why he was disappointed, she smiled at him and gave a wave of one hand.
"Come on in, youngster; I won't bite you. You're Baloo's new navigator, aren't you?"
"Yes, ma'am. I'm Kit Cloudkicker . . . "
"I know. My daughter told me about you. Sven and Olav gave you the business the first time you were here, didn't they?"
"Well, they held me up in the air by the feet, and said, 'Make a wish,'" Kit answered. The lady made a face that mixed annoyance with amusement.
"Those two! Either one of them has more education and brains than any four other men in the territory, but they both like to fool people . . . as if they were only five years old." She gave a sigh, as if to indicate that this was a problem of long standing. "They're just frustrated actors, at heart."
"This is the paperwork for the cargo we brought in, ma'am." He handed her the envelope and then asked, "Pardon me, but, are you Sitka's mother?"
"Now, where are my manners? We haven't properly met yet, have we? I'm Juneau Salopian, and Sitka is my daughter. How do you do, Kit?" Juneau made a nod with her head and shoulders that gave Kit the impression of a lady bowing. He took off his cap and answered as politely as he could.
"I'm just fine, ma'am . . . uh, Mrs. Salopian."
"Please, just call me 'Juneau,"' she grinned. "The only time anybody is formally addressed in Foggy Bay is when they're getting married, buried, put on trial or talking to a banker about money." She nodded at a chair as she opened the envelope. "Have a seat while I take care of this."
Kit hung his cap on one of a series of pegs in the wall and sat down. He had only been seated for a minute when the door to the storage part of the warehouse swung open and a medium-tall fox with a handlebar mustache strode in. Like Olav, he wore a checked shirt, dungarees, and well-made boots. A moment later Sitka followed him into the room.
"Was that the Sea Duck I heard come in, Juneau?" said the fox.
"Must have been, Dad; here's Baloo's navigator," said Sitka, walking over to the chair. "Nice to see you again, Kit. How was the flight?"
"Real smooth; no problems," Kit answered.
The fox turned from the desk and looked at Kit with an appraising expression on his face. Kit hopped off the chair at once and looked Sitka's father directly in the eye.
"Kit Cloudkicker, is it?" Kit nodded. "Well, I've heard some good things about you, Kit. You're going to have a rough time keeping that plane of Baloo's on course, but you just stick with him. He could fall off the Moon on a boulder, and land it safe in Cape Suzette harbor without getting a bruise." He stuck out his right hand toward Kit. "Put 'er there, son!"
Kit's hand was swallowed by Sourdough's in a firm — but not painful — grip. He managed to say hello without his voice breaking, and then remarked that he had seen the picture of Sitka's parents the first time he had come to Foggy Bay. "Baloo told me some things about his first trip here, but not much else."
"He probably would, if you asked him," said Juneau. "Or, you could talk to some of the old-timers that he flew food for during the late spring of '32."
Just then the outside door swung open and Baloo walked in, followed by Olav. Between them they carried a long, slat-sided crate with the word 'Caterpiggle' stenciled on it. They put it down with a thump, and Sourdough's face lit up with a smile.
"Oh, good! Now Tony will stop pestering us for a new set of treads for his truck."
"Sitka?" Kit asked. "What is a 'Caterpiggle?' Those things look like they belong on an Army tank."
"A few years back, somebody came up with a way to use automobiles in mud and heavy snow," the girl replied. "He took off the front wheels, mounted them on a spare axle and put it under the body, just ahead of the rear axle. Then he fitted one of these treads to the two wheels on each side, and put heavy-duty skis under the front where the wheels used to be. Somebody called the thing a 'Caterpiggle,' and the name stuck."
"Yeah, I took three of 'em up to Bluemoose once," Baloo remarked. "Had to take 'em apart, fly the pieces up there, an' then Wildcat put 'em back together again."
"Say," said Kit, "what's that noise?" Everybody else stopped talking, and then they all heard it. It was a steady whistling, as if the steam whistle on a locomotive was being held wide open.
"That's trouble," Sourdough observed, and everybody hurried outside. Around the docks and the beach, people were either staring up the main street or trotting towards it, while the wailing whistle grew louder. Kit saw a thin pillar of smoke moving between the buildings at the far end of town. This turned out to be from a small locomotive that came steaming down the center of the street toward the harbor. A set of rails ran straight through the town down to the city pier, and the engine didn't stop until it reached the end of the track.
A medium-sized feline jumped down from the engine and sprinted from the track toward Sourdough's warehouse. As he drew near, Juneau spoke. "That's Mike Manx; he was working with Sven today!"
"What's up, Mike?"
"Something go wrong with the survey?"
"Is anybody hurt?"
Sitka and her parents all asked questions at once, and Mike was forced to wait a moment before he could get a word in. Then he quickly explained that Sven and his crew had followed a narrow ledge a hundred feet up the side of Edwards' Cliff to the point the railroad wanted them to check. Sven was inspecting the rock face to see if it was likely to fall, when a part of the ledge behind the party had collapsed. Mike and one other man had been left on the part of the ledge that led down to the ground, while Sven and three others were now stuck on a shelf of rock, with no way to get down.
"What's more," Mike added, "it looks like a bad storm is buildin' up, to the northeast. We need to get a line to 'em, so they can get down by tonight. There's a railroad section gang working at the summit, so I hitched a ride on a railroad hand-car. After ten miles I met them, and they gave me a lift, so's I could tell folks what happened and get help." He pointed back at the locomotive, where a considerable crowd had gathered.
"Stuck on a ledge, a hundred feet up, in Frozen Bird Pass, during a storm . . . " Juneau's voice sounded worried. "That's not good."
"How big is this ledge that Sven is on?" Baloo asked Mike.
"About twenty feet long, and three feet wide."
"Shucks, if somebody can show me where it is, I'll fly close to the cliff an' drop `em a rope," Baloo casually remarked.
"Mike, just where is this ledge?" Sourdough asked. The cat began to explain, and as soon as he finished, Sitka spoke up.
"I know where that is, and I can spot it from the air, Baloo. I've flown through Frozen Bird a couple of dozen times in the past two years."
Kit stared at her in amazement. "You . . . you're a pilot, too?"
"Well, officially, only for the last ten days," she answered. "I've been taking flying lessons from two pilots Dad knows for the past three years, but I had to wait until I was sixteen to get my license."
Sourdough and Juneau promptly backed Sitka up on this point. "In fact," her father remarked, "you spend half of your free time in airplanes, young lady. Either on the ground or in the air."
"But the air currents in the pass can be tricky," she said to Baloo. "Remember what happened when you flew that load up to Lake Mandible?"
The pilot flinched. "Yeah, don't remind me! But that was a few years ago, Sitka, an' I didn't have the Sea Duck, then."
"Okay! You fly, and I'll show you where they are. Who's going to throw the rope?"
"I will," said Olav, very firmly. "However, I will need someone to assist me."
"I'll do that," said Kit. "Just tell me what you want me to do." Olav smiled and gave him a gentle slap on the back.
"I'll get some rope from stock; the rest of you, get that plane ready!" Sourdough's voice had a snap of command in it. "Get cracking, people!"
Less than fifteen minutes later the Sea Duck was empty of cargo, three coils of rope had been tossed into the hold, and with Sitka, Kit and Olav on board, Baloo guided the seaplane into the air.
As they headed toward the mountains, Sitka and Olav were somewhat tense and silent for a time. Then the girl nudged Kit and pointed off to the right toward a wide, slowly rising valley. She explained that this went up to a pass through the mountains, but it was so high and narrow at the top that airplanes didn't use it. Even explorers on foot found it almost impossible. It had earned the name of 'Deadman Pass' for a very good reason. Trying to fly through it was considered suicide.
"Only two pilots have ever flown the Deadman and made it in one piece. Maybe you heard of one of them: Wiley Pole."
"I've heard of him," Kit said. "Who was the other one?"
Sitka didn't answer, but just tipped her head to look past Kit towards Baloo. Kit turned to follow her gaze and realized what she meant. He looked closely at the pilot, and noticed that Baloo was blushing . . . just a little. Kit decided that later he would have to ask Baloo about some of the things he had done before he got the Sea Duck.
After a bit Kit asked how Frozen Bird Pass got its name, and Olav explained that the winds blowing down the pass in the winter were said to be so cold that any bird trying to fly up the pass would be frozen solid. Sitka added that in the spring a traveler could find plenty of frozen birds along the ground near the summit. "But if you try to roast one, they thaw out, wake up, and fly away," she finished, with a totally serious expression. Kit just grinned, and after a moment Sitka grinned back at him.
Although Baloo had the Sea Duck climbing steadily, the ground below was getting higher almost as fast. Ahead they could see a steep rise and what seemed to be a level place beyond it. Olav said that this was the summit, and the cliff would be on their right. Baloo swung the Sea Duck into a series of circles and gained more altitude. When they were well above the level of the summit, he headed into the pass.
"They should be on our right in about a minute . . . one-third of the way up from the ground . . . there they are!" Sitka's arm shot out to point toward the vertical cliff off the right wing. A splash of color, made by the men's clothes against the rock, made it easy to spot the ledge. They droned past at the same level as the stranded party, and Sitka opened the cockpit window and waved to them.
"Okay, here's how we do it." Baloo's voice had a touch of the sound Kit had heard in Sitka's and Sourdough's. It was an 'I'm-in-charge-and-you-folks-follow-orders' sound that made him turn and look at his friend in surprise. Baloo didn't notice Kit's reaction; he just continued to talk.
"The wind's comin' down the pass, an' we need to be higher than that ledge. I'll turn around, an' come through slow an' as close to the cliff as I can. Sitka, you stay here an' sing out if I'm getting' too close. Kit, you an' Olav go back to the door an' get ready to throw that rope!"
"Hey . . . look at that," said Sitka. They all looked where she was pointing, which was straight ahead. On the horizon was a black mass of clouds that looked cold and bleak. Even as they stared at it, the storm seemed to be slowly moving toward them. The deadline for the rescue attempt was visible . . . and too close for comfort.
The Sea Duck swung around and sailed back through the summit area. Then Baloo headed up-canyon again, throttled back the engines and eased over toward the right-hand side. They droned past the cliff, and Kit came into the cockpit.
"Baloo? Olav says you've got to get closer; he doesn't think he can throw the rope to them from this far out." Baloo nodded and wheeled about for a second try, which was followed by a third. Then Baloo took the Sea Duck up higher and eased a bit closer to the rock wall.
"If I go any slower she'll stall! An' the gusts off that cliff are rough!" Baloo shouted back toward the cargo bay. When Kit brought Olav's answer to Baloo, he noticed that the pilot's hands were gripping the control yoke like a vise, and sweat was running down his cheeks.
"He says this is good," said Kit. "He'll drop the rope on this run."
Kit watched out the door for the ledge as they went by the cliff again. Olav had rigged himself a safety harness, and stood in the door with the rope coil in his hands.
"Here it comes!" Kit called, and moved clear. The polar bear crouched like a tightly-coiled spring, and then hurled the rope out and ahead of the plane! Kit watched it fall in a graceful, curving path toward the ledge . . . only to miss as a last-minute wind gust shoved it aside. He went to the cockpit to tell Sitka and Baloo what had happened.
"Okay, I'll go around again, a little closer," Baloo growled.
On the next run Olav hurled a second coil of rope, which struck the ledge a short distance beyond the men. Kit saw one of them lunge to grab it, but the coil slid over the edge and fell to the ground below. When Kit reported this, Sitka asked Baloo if he could get any closer on another run.
"If I try it, those gusts could throw us against the cliff. They almost did, that last time!"
Sitka was clearly getting worried. "We've got to do something! If they don't get off that ledge before that storm hits, some of them won't make it!"
Kit tapped Baloo on the shoulder. "Papa Bear? You make another run, faster and higher up. I'll put a rope right in Mr. Olavson's lap!" Kit held up his skyfoil. Baloo stared at it for a moment, and then grinned.
"Yeah! You can get closer than I can, L'il Britches. Go for it!"
Puzzled, Sitka and Olav watched as Kit looped a third rope coil around himself, paid out a long length of towline from the winch in the hold, and then opened the stern cargo doors. He glanced out the side door as Baloo flew down the pass again and began a climbing turn. Then he took the towbar in one hand, his skyfoil in the other, and calmly dove out the back hatch. Sitka screamed!
Moments later Kit came into view, cloud-surfing behind the Sea Duck, and clearly enjoying himself. Sitka returned to the cockpit and tapped Baloo on the shoulder. "Baloo? Is- is it safe for him to do that?" The pilot shrugged.
"He does it all the time. Whups! Here comes that ledge."
A minute later Olav entered the cockpit. "Kit didn't drop the rope, and he's waving one hand in a circle, Baloo. I believe he wants you to make another pass."
Baloo nodded and swung the plane around again. Nobody mentioned the fact that the storm clouds seemed to be much closer. As the Sea Duck flew down the pass and turned again, Olav commented in some detail on the apparent impossibility of what Kit was doing . . . according to current aeronautical knowledge and theory. When Baloo began the run, both Olav and Sitka went back to watch Kit on his skyfoil. Both were wondering if the young cub could succeed, and even if he would survive.
Out at the end of the towline, Kit was worried. The way the air currents were bouncing him around, he couldn't swing in over the ledge, drop the rope, and hold the towline, too. What Sitka had said ran through his mind: Some of those men on that ledge might die if they didn't get this rope. Kit swung well out to the left and climbed as the Sea Duck neared the ledge. Then he released the towbar and dove!
"Aim for the ledge! Aim for the ledge! Aim for the ledge!" Kit muttered as he sliced through the air. The gusts and wind currents plucked and pulled at Kit, but he made rapid adjustments to his glide angle and aimed directly for the biggest figure on the small ledge. At the last possible moment Kit shifted the skyfoil, trading speed for altitude and stopping power, and stalled in to a perfect landing in Sven Olavson's arms.
"Hello, Kit. We met this way the last time," Sven calmly remarked. "Thanks for bringing us a rope. Now all that's necessary is for the section gang down there to understand what we require of them."
Kit slipped off the coil of rope, leaned against the cliff face, and said, "Just what do you want them to do?"
Sven told him, Kit repeated the instructions back to be sure he'd got them right, and finished by asking, "How far up can you toss me?"
Two minutes later, propelled by Sven's arms, Kit sailed up and out from the cliff. He swung the skyfoil under his feet, caught the wind, and glided down to land beside the somewhat amazed railroad men. By that time the rope Kit had delivered was being lowered from the ledge. When the Sea Duck came back down the pass, a pulley was already being lifted to the ledge, and Kit waved to Baloo as he flew past.
BWKRMBWKRM
Two hours later, Kit was sitting beside Sven as they rode the afternoon train back to Foggy Bay. The polar bear made little of his work in rigging a 'breeches buoy' to ferry the survey party to safety, and instead, he carefully examined Kit's skyfoil. He also asked Kit many questions about it. Where did Kit get it? How did he learn to 'cloud-surf?' When did he start doing this? To all the questions Kit gave brief, truthful answers, but he felt preoccupied and uneasy.
Finally, Sven folded the skyfoil, handed it back to Kit, and remarked that the cub seemed to be upset. "You really should be proud of yourself, Kit. You probably saved four lives today."
"I know . . . it's just . . . I'm a little shook up, I guess." Kit hesitated and burst out, "Mr. Olavson, I've never done that before! Glided down to land on a ledge, I mean. Oh, I've come down a mile, or landed in the sea. I've landed in jungles and deserts . . . but I've never tried to land on a ledge before!" Kit shivered slightly. "I took a big chance . . . it was stupid."
"Do you know why you took that chance, Kit?"
"Well . . . " Kit hesitated, remembering just what had made him do it. "You needed the rope."
"Yes. People's lives were in danger, so you took a risk to help them. That's very understandable."
Kit looked up at Sven sharply.
"In Nordmark we have lots of heavy snow, and in the mountains avalanches are not exactly uncommon. There is a special civilian rescue service — most of the members are volunteers — which ventures out to help find people who are lost. And many times the Royal Army sends its engineers to clear away wreckage after an avalanche. They go out, no matter what the weather is like, and many others volunteer for search and rescue duty. Sometimes one or two of the rescuers are lost, Kit. But the next time there is an emergency, just as many people volunteer for duty."
Sven chuckled. "It sounds crazy, doesn't it? Two or three people lose their lives, trying to save a single person who is lost. But if you look through history, legends, fiction and traditions, you'll always find it: When a person's life is in danger, others don't count the cost in life to save them." He put one massive paw on Kit's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. "What you did was very natural. And in some ways, Kit, you are older and wiser than your years."
Kit leaned back in the seat and let his muscles relax. It made sense, now. And he felt better about it.
BWKRMBWKRM
The next morning dawned bright and clear. As he walked down the pier to his plane, Baloo felt as happy and pleased as he ever had. He turned and spoke to the fox who walked beside him.
"Well, thanks for puttin' us up for the night, Sourdough."
"Anytime, Baloo. You and your navigator earned it with that nice piece of rescue work." Sourdough glanced at the Sea Duck, where Kit and Sitka stood, discussing something.
"Besides," he went on, "I haven't seen my girl get that impressed by somebody for quite a while." He and Baloo continued walking toward the end of the pier, and gradually began to hear what the two youngsters were saying.
" . . . you've been doing this 'cloud-surfing' that long?" Sitka shook her head. "I've heard some whoppers told at the Pioneer Days tall tale contests, Kit, but you could top every one of them! What's more, you wouldn't have to lie a bit." At the sound of footsteps on the planks, she turned toward her father and Baloo.
"Dad, we've got to have them here for Pioneer Days. How about it?" Sourdough frowned a bit, and the girl turned toward the pilot. "Baloo . . . ?"
"Well, now, that depends on what cargo Becky has for us to carry," said Baloo. "If'n she has a delivery to Shytown for us, that's where we'll go. Thembria, or maybe even Moustralia."
The pilot rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "'Course, if Sourdough orders some stuff to be delivered when Pioneer Days are goin' on, why, then we'd probably be here." Baloo looked at Sourdough with an innocent expression on his face.
"I think that's likely this year, Baloo." Sourdough turned to look directly at Kit, and added, "But just one thing: I'd appreciate it if you didn't teach Sitka how to do this 'cloud-surfing' of yours. She's given me and Juneau enough gray hairs already."
"Dad!"
Kit and Baloo did their best to hide their smiles.
"You've got your pilot's license, Sitka; that should be enough for a few years," her father replied. She grinned and shrugged.
"Maybe next time Olav can show us through that gold mine," Kit remarked.
"Yeah! Have you ever done any cave exploring, Kit?"
Kit checked himself just in time. Admitting that he'd been one of Don Karnage's air pirates, and that they used a cave as a hide-out, might not be a good idea. "Once or twice," he finally answered.
Baloo cleared his throat and pointed at the Sea Duck. "Time to get movin', navigator, if we're gonna stop at Louie's on the way home."
A few minutes later the Sea Duck lifted into the air, circled over Sourdough's pier and headed down the fjord. Baloo remarked that it had been real nice of Sourdough to telegraph Rebecca and explain why the Sea Duck had had to stay at Foggy Bay overnight. Then he noticed that Kit wasn't really listening.
"Hey there, navigator!"
"Huh? What did you say, Baloo?"
"Penny for yer thoughts, L'il Britches?"
"Well, I was just wondering . . . when are the Foggy Bay Pioneer Days?"
THE END
Note: If you have not read my story "Flyer's Luck," you may want to. It introduces Sitka, Sven and Olav to the reader, along with the location of Foggy Bay. More stories of this kind are on the way.
Please feel free to review my stories. All comments will be answered.