A Map Made in Heaven
part 2

Higher for Hire
A Week Later
Saturday Morning
Day 1

The weather was beautiful for the start of the von Bruinwald family vacation. The rising sun turned the wispy cirrus clouds floating over Cape Suzette pink with halos of gold. A warm breeze gently ruffled the azure water in the harbor. Seagulls swooped over the small brown building by the harbor's edge.

Excitement was in the air at Higher for Hire. The von Bruinwald's dark grey Chevrolette sedan was parked close to the office door to facilitate loading. Rebecca stood beside the open trunk, holding the official trip clipboard upon which was the official trip list and official trip schedule. She was checking off each bag that was packed into the automobile while Cassie played at her feet.

"Here's my stuff, Mom," Kit said, swinging a duffel bag into the trunk.

Rebecca made a neat checkmark beside that particular item on the list. "Check."

"And mine, too, Mommy," Molly said, emerging from Higher for Hire, doll Lucy in hand. Her blue suitcase bumped along the cobblestones as she dragged it behind her.

Kit took her bag from her and stowed it in the trunk.

"Thanks, Kit. Who knew that clothes could be so heavy!" Molly put Lucy on the backseat, then sped off to remind Wildcat to feed Goldie, her pet goldfish.

But before Molly could scramble down the ladder leading to Wildcat's houseboat, Rebecca asked, "Did you remember to pack your swimsuits and your toothbrushes and plenty of clean underwear?"

"Yes, Mommy!" Molly answered, her blonde head disappearing down the ladder.

"Yes to all, Mom." Kit nodded as he scooped up his baby sister before she could eat a pebble. "We're going for a ride in the car, Cassie. Whatcha think about that? Can you say 'fun'? Fun. Fun."

"Fun, fun, fun..." the toddler repeated the newest word in her vocabulary over and over.

"Aw, man, don't get the little broken record started," Baloo said through a yawn. He staggered out to the car, lugging the heavy, ice-filled cooler. Stacked atop the cooler was the picnic basket. He peeked over his shoulder at the full trunk, and plunked both cooler and basket down on the ground, puffing, "The ol' car can't hold any more, Beckers. Now, if we'd take the Duck, we'd have plenty of room."

"For the last time, Baloo, we're not taking the Sea Duck! We'll just have to rearrange," replied practical Rebecca. She swiftly pulled each bag out, then, just as swiftly, put each bag in, leaving a large empty square in the middle of the trunk. "There. Plenty of room for the food, and there's even room for souvenirs," she said, shooting her husband an impish grin.

"You mean we gotta go shoppin' on this trip?"

"Of course," she replied matter-of-factly. "We can't go on a family vacation without bringing home souvenirs."

"Shoppin'," Baloo grumbled under his breath as he put the cooler and picnic basket in the trunk. He had to slam the trunk lid three times before it latched.

Rebecca once again looked over the official clipboard; everything on her list had been checked off. "Molly! We're ready to go, honey!"

As they ascended the ladder, Molly told Wildcat, "The food is right beside Goldie's bowl. Remember that she gets a pinch every morning and every night."

"Got it, Mollycat." The lion mechanic's grin turned to bewilderment. "Uh, what do I pinch? The fish?"

Giggling, Molly said, "A pinch means a little food, Wildcat. A few flakes."

"Snowflakes?" Wildcat said, becoming even more confused.

"Fish flakes. I left instructions by Goldie's bowl. You'll figure it out." She hugged Wildcat, saying, "I'll bring you back lots of souvenirs, and Mom said she's gonna take tons of pictures. I promise I'll tell you everything that we did when we get back."

"See you when I see you," Wildcat murmured a little sadly, returning her hug.

"Everybody in front of the car for a picture," Rebecca said brightly. At the sight of her family's grumpy faces, she added, "The sooner we take the picture, the sooner we can leave."

"Can't argue with that logic," Baloo said, pulling Kit and Molly to his side. "Huddle up, gang."

"Say 'fun'," Rebecca said, focusing the camera.

Everyone, including Cassie, chirped, "Fun!" with big smiles.

A split second after Rebecca snapped the picture, Baloo and the cubs piled into the car - Baloo in the front, the cubs in the back.

"Remember, Wildcat, you're in charge while we're gone." A scared look crossed Rebecca's face at that thought. "Make sure you bring in the mail, and if any customers call, tell them that we'll be back in a week, and..."

Baloo impatiently tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Annoyed, he said, "C'mon, Becky, let's pull chocks, already."

Before Rebecca got into the car, she handed a thick stack of papers to Wildcat. "Here's a list of places that we'll be, categorized by the date that we'll be there, and also the phone numbers of all the motels that we might stay at. If there's an emergency..."

"Which there won't be," Baloo interrupted.

"I want you to call us immediately," Rebecca concluded through clenched teeth.

"A-okey dokey, Ree-becca," Wildcat said, sagging under the weight of the list as he headed to his houseboat. "Bye, guys! Say 'hi' to Santa Claus if you run into him!"

"Everyone ready?" Baloo asked, turning his head to look at the kids in the backseat while Rebecca double-checked her list.

"Yeah!" the cubs answered.

"Whattaya say, boss lady?"

"All checked off and ready to roll, darling."

"Here we go!" Baloo started the car, put it in gear, and started off.

"Yay!" Kit and Molly shouted excitedly.

"My purse!" Rebecca cried, causing Baloo to stomp on the brake and back up.

Rebecca sprinted to Higher for Hire, got her purse, and ran back to the car. "All set."

"Here we go," Baloo said again.

"Yay!" Molly and Kit said, a little less enthusiastic this time.

"I forgot my squishy pillow!" Molly exclaimed. "I can't sleep without my squishy pillow."

Once again, Baloo backed up. Molly retraced her mother's steps and returned with the pillow. "Got it."

"Here we go," Baloo murmured dully, putting the car in gear a third time.

"Yay! Yay!" came Kit and Molly's curt, quiet cheers.

One block later, it became apparent that Cassie needed a serious diaper change. Frowning and grumbling under his breath, Baloo circled the block and headed home. Rebecca took Cassie into the house to change her.

While they waited in the car, Wildcat meandered out of his houseboat, wiping his greasy hands on his already greasy overalls. "You guys back already? That was a short vacation."

"We haven't even started," Baloo groaned, switching off the engine.

A few minutes later, Rebecca and Cassie got back into the car. "This time for sure, darling."

Cassie, on her mother's lap, gurgled happily. She smelled pleasantly of baby powder.

"All right," Baloo growled angrily. "Does anybody need anythin' else before we start?"

Everyone answered, "No."

Baloo turned the ignition.

Nothing but a click.

He turned the key several more time, becoming increasingly frustrated with every try.

Click, click, click, click!

He plunked his forehead down on the steering wheel in disgust. "Oh, man! Just my doggone luck!"

"Sounds like you got a sick little starter." Wildcat pulled out his trusty wrench from one of his overalls pockets. "They always click their tongues when they don't feel good. I'll have it fixed in a jiffy."

The von Bruinwalds all got out of the car, disappointed.

An hour later, they were truly on their way with a repaired starter and the car 'running smooth as a kitten and purring like silk' as Wildcat put it. It was a bright, sunny day, but not too hot. Their state-of-the-art 'air conditioning' - fifty-five miles-per-hour with the windows rolled down - made it comfortable.

Everyone was in a good mood, and all were looking forward to the sights that they were about to see. Baloo hummed to himself as he drove. He grinned over at Rebecca, who held Cassie on her lap. The toddler was fascinated by the passing scenery, lisping, "Twee" or "Moo-cow" every so often. In the back seat, Kit alternated between gazing out the window at the countryside and planning out their course. Molly was curled up in her seat behind her mother, reading a book.

Baloo grinned at Kit in the rearview mirror before breaking the long, comfortable silence with, "Ya know, you've had some humdingers of ideas, Becky, but this one's different."

"What do you mean - different?" Rebecca said suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

"This trip was actually a good idea," he chuckled, reaching over to squeeze her paw three times, meaning 'I love you'.

Rebecca's face softened into a smile, and she squeezed his hand back.

Aridzona Welcome Center
Three Hours Later
11:30 AM

Weazel leaned against the front of his black Fjord in the shade of the brick welcome center. His eyes, concealed behind orange-rimmed glow-in-the-dark sunglasses, darted around the bustling parking lot. He pretended to read a newspaper while scrutinizing every tourist that came and went. Blazoned across the front page of the paper was "Treasure Map of Emperor Karat Stolen! Huge Reward!"

The welcome center was a perfect place for a secret, highly illegal transaction. It was located in the middle of the Great Usland Desert, miles away from any city, and most importantly, police.

The weasel swiped his hand at the sweat that was trickling down his forehead and glanced at his watch. Kazim was two hours late, but Weazel knew that he had to wait there, all day, if necessary. If Heimlich Menudo ever learned of his failure to retrieve the map, he knew that his life wouldn't be worth the paper that that map was printed on. Menudo had contacts everywhere. He could orchestrate Weazel's death, even from prison. In fact, two of Menudo's masters of torture - Jerry the Nipper and Mickie Finn - were still at large. That terrifying thought alone kept loyal Weazel glued to that very spot, despite the sweltering heat and the utter boredom.

Weazel stared at a maroon Packard-Bruin over his newspaper as it pulled up beside his car.

The Packard-Bruin's driver side window rolled down. From the interior of the automobile, an accented male voice said, "The rooster crowed..."

"At midnight," Weasel replied readily. He retrieved a battered brown briefcase from his car and scurried over to the posh Packard-Bruin. "Do you have it, Kazim?"

"Please, no names," murmured the canine, casually scanning the parking lot. "Do you have the money, Effendi?"

"Got it right here. All $200,000." Weazel said loudly in a nasal voice that grated on Kazim's sensitive ears. He thrust the briefcase through the open window, nearly hitting Kazim in the nose.

There was a click of a clasp, then a soft rustling as Kazim thumbed through the stacks of one hundred dollar bills. Pleased with his prize, he drew a folded up, yellowed map encased in a brown paper sleeve from his jacket pocket and handed it to Weazel.

"You're sure that this is the original?" Weazel said suspiciously, peeking inside the paper sleeve.

"As sure as the hot wind blows across the desert. I don't need to remind you that you must never reveal where you got this map, or speak about it to anyone." Kazim ran a skeptical eye up and down over Weazel. "Or do I?"

"Don't worry, Kazim. I'm a professional," Weazel averred with a broad grin.

"Professional what?" Kazim said dryly, causing the goofy grin to drop from Weazel's face. The weasel's gaudy green suit and fumbling ways reminded him that it was becoming harder to find good lackeys. Aloud, he said, "Relate my best wishes to my friend Heimlich, Weasel."

"Uh, that's Weazel."

"Whatever." Kazim touched his fingertips to his forehead in a salute, rolled up the window, and exited the parking lot.

Weazel, cloaked in dust and exhaust from the receding maroon car, felt both relieved and nervous now that he had the treasure map in his possession. So nervous, in fact, that he had to use the restroom. "Good thing there's a bathroom here," he murmured to himself, stowing the map carefully in his pocket as he headed inside.

Meanwhile...

"Aridzona Welcome Center," Baloo read as they pulled off the road into the gravel parking lot. "What say we stretch our legs an' use the little pilot's room, gang?"

Getting out the car, Kit squinted into the bright sunlight. "Whew, it's hot! Almost as hot as that time when we were in Boomstone. Remember, Papa Bear?"

"No stones that go boom-boom here." Baloo chuckled.

"Bring the diaper bag, Molly," Rebecca said, "and I'll change Cassie."

"Got it." Molly shouldered the big pink bag that was on the floor beside her feet, got out of the car, and slammed the door. "Lookee, Mom, they got a playground!" she squealed, pointing to the swings, slide, and merry-go-round. "Can I play on the swings? Please?"

Rebecca glanced at the small park area, which also had a few picnic tables enclosed in a small shelter house. "Maybe after we eat, Pumpkin."

As the von Bruinwalds entered the restrooms, Weazel came out, drying his damp hands on his new pea green suit coat. He gingerly pulled out the brown paper sleeve and smiled at the map inside "Now all I have to do is get this map to Heimlich Menudo, and I'm home free." He confidently strolled towards the exit.

Just then, two policemen entered the welcome center, causing Weazel to freeze in his tracks.

"Oh, no! Cops!" Weazel squeaked with fright. "And I'm violating my parole!" He looked at the map in his hand. "If they find this on me, I'll be in prison for the rest of my life."

Without further ado, he shoved the map into a nearby rack containing Aridzona state maps and brochures for tourist attractions. Then, he dove behind a trash can and breathlessly watched as the policemen made their way to the men's restroom.

"'Scuse me, officer," Baloo mumbled as he lightly bumped into the panther policeman in the bathroom doorway. "The 'Big Guy's' rumblin' louder than a dumptruck drivin' through a dynamite plant. What's takin' those gals so long anywhoo, Li'l Britches?"

Kit pored over the colorful brochures in the rack that was situated between the men's and women's restrooms. "Mom's changing Cassie."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah," Baloo said, leaning against the wall, patting his ample belly. "Wish she'd hurry it up."

Behind the trash can, Weazel gasped in trepidation as Kit picked up a brochure and turned it over. The weasel sighed with relief when the boy put it back.

"See anything good, Kit?" Rebecca asked, walking from the restroom over to her son. Molly followed her, carrying Cassie. "Anything we should add to the schedule?"

"Nah. Just something about the world's biggest ball of twine." Kit grinned.

"That don't sound very promisin' unless you'd like to string the vacation along," Baloo joked.

The cubs snickered at the pun.

When Rebecca started searching through the brochure rack, Baloo whined, "C'mon, Becky, the kids are hungry."

"You mean you're hungry, Baloo," Rebecca chuckled, adjusting the heavy diaper bag that was slung over her shoulder.

"Hey, all that drivin' works up an appetite."

She smirked. "Then maybe I should drive. I don't want you passing out from hunger and endangering the lives of our children."

"Hardy-har-har, Rebecca. I just meant it's been a long, long time since breakfast."

Men are bigger babies than babies, Rebecca thought to herself. She plucked one of each brochure and map from the rack - including the treasure map - and stuffed them in the diaper bag to look at later. "All right. I'm coming."

After the policemen had gone and the lobby was empty, Weazel casually sauntered over to the brochure rack and looked for the map. He nearly went into hysterics when he couldn't find it. "Where is it? Where is it!" he murmured, grabbing handfuls of brochures and strewing them around frantically. He ripped the last brochure in the rack open - advertising the world's largest ball of twine - and tossed it over his shoulder in disgust. "That lady must have took it! It must be in that pink bag!"

Weazel dashed outside with a pounding heart and a brochure stuck to his foot. He raced around the parking lot like a chicken with his feathers in a knot, searching for the bearess with the pink diaper bag. When he didn't find her in the parking lot, he wearily slumped against the nearest car, thinking, I'm doomed!

Then, he heard a peal of laughter.

Following the sound of voices, Weazel skirted the building and came to the park. The bearess he was looking for was sitting at a picnic table in the shelter house. "Thank goodness!" he whispered in relief. He crept closer and hid behind a tall saguaro cactus that was a few feet away from the shelter house. Something's real familiar about these bears, he thought.

"Whatcha want, Muffin? We have bologna or bologna," Baloo said, holding a sandwich in each hand.

"Hmm..." Molly mused. Her eyes shifted from one identical sandwich to the other as she pretended to make up her mind. "Bologna, I guess, Daddy," she giggled.

"I'll take bologna, too, Papa Bear," Kit said, returning from the car with four cold Strawberry Fizzies, a small bottle of milk, and the bottle opener.

"Bologna sandwiches all around." Baloo dealt the sandwiches out as if he was dealing cards.

"Thank you, Baloo." Rebecca draped a bib around Cassie's neck, then started to pinch pieces of her sandwich off for the baby.

"Dealer takes two." Baloo piled two sandwiches on a napkin in front of himself.

"Trés excellent and tastes good, too," Molly said between bites.

"Ya know, Papa Bear, George Townsen's hangar is just a few miles away," Kit mentioned nonchalantly. He reached in the picnic basket for a bunch of grapes, picked a few off, then offered the bunch to his father.

"It is?" Baloo said with a spray of bread crumbs. He winked at Kit conspiratorially, took a grape, and popped it in his mouth. "Well..since we're in the neighborhood, we'd better stop an' say howdy to ol' Georgie."

"George Townsen?" Rebecca cried. "Not that man we spent an hour talking to in Picante City last year?"

"That's the one." Baloo slurped down a handful of grapes. "I heard through the grapevine that he's test flyin' some experimental aircraft. Real cuttin' edge stuff."

"Yeah, I know what you mean, Papa Bear - Derrick Vertaplanes!" Kit exclaimed, his eyes aglow with excitement. "I saw some awesome pictures in last week's edition of Flyboy Magazine, but it would be way better to see one up close."

Baloo clapped Kit on the shoulder. "Flyin' one would be better'n seein' it."

"Do you really think he'd let us?"

"No harm askin'."

"Flying, flying, flying," Rebecca muttered in exasperation. "Is that all you flyboys ever think about?"

"Yes," Baloo and Kit said simultaneously.

Rebecca helped Cassie to get a sip from the milk bottle. "But if we stop there, it'll throw our whole schedule off. I planned on reaching Flaggstone by..."

Baloo waved her aside. "Aw, schedule, schmedule. This is a vacation, honey. Ya gotta lighten up. Relax. Go with the flow."

"See some airplanes," Rebecca said dryly.

Baloo nodded vehemently and chomped into his second sandwich.

"If I wanted to see airplanes, I could have stayed at home," Rebecca retorted, wiping milk from Cassie's chin.

"I bet you a billion buckaroos that you've never seen nuthin' like this, Becky," Baloo averred, gulping down half his soda.

"It's a cross between Buzz's helicopter and a regular airplane, Mom," Kit explained. "Capable of vertical takeoffs."

"What's 'vertical takeoff' mean?" Molly asked. She stood on the bench to reach into the picnic basket for a bag of chocolate chip cookies.

"It can go straight up in the air when it takes off," Kit told her. "It doesn't need a runway."

"Neat-o!" Molly chose a cookie, then passed the paper sack to her brother.

"That would come in handy in tight spots, like the inside of volcanoes. In a sing-song voice, Baloo said, "Hey, Becky, I know what I want for a souvenir."

"Ha! Keep dreaming," Rebecca snorted. "One plane's upkeep is enough for Higher for Hire."

Baloo clasped his hands together melodramatically. "Can we go, Beckers? Pretty please with a cherry an' whipped cream an' sprinkles an' chocolate chips an' sparklers on top?"

Rebecca couldn't help giggling at Baloo's plethora of ice cream toppings. He was cute when he tried to get around her, which was about every other minute.

But the thing that really swayed her was Kit's hopeful, "Please, Mom?"

"Fine. We'll stop by for a quick visit."

"Fan-dang-tastic, Becky!" Father and son shared high fives. "Ya know, kid, I heard that them Vertaplanes don't even got rudders or ailerons or..."

Taking a thoughtful drink of her soda, Molly said, "Pilots always have their heads in the clouds, don't they, Mom?"

Frowning at her husband, who had absolutely no regard for time, Rebecca said testily, "Pilots definitely need to be grounded every once in a while, especially your father." She mentally reviewed the schedule. This unexpected stop was going to throw the entire trip's timing all off, and she had it planned almost to the very second.

"Whoa-ho! Dairy deluge!" Baloo cried, standing up quickly. Cold milk streamed down his legs onto the ground.

Cassie, who had accidentally knocked the bottle over, was blissfully unaware that she had done anything wrong. She giggled at the little jig that her father did.

"Aw, man, my sandwich is soggy," Baloo groaned. He waved the last few bites of his limp sandwich in front of Cassie, who promptly grabbed onto it. "I hope you're happy, young lady."

"There's no use crying over spilt milk, Baloo," Rebecca pointed out, prying the sodden sandwich from Cassie's hands. Eyes twinkling, she threw his own words back at him. "This is a vacation. You've got to lighten up, relax, go with the flow - the milk flow, that is." She burst out laughing.

"You're gonna milk this one for all it's worth, ain't ya, Rebecca?" He wrung out his shirttail, grimacing.

Rebecca could only nod. She was laughing too hard.

Behind the cactus, something pricked Weazel's memory, and it wasn't the cactus spines. Planes! That was it! This was the same fat pilot that he had hired two years ago to do some skywriting for Heimlich Menudo's master plan. It turned out that the pilot wasn't as stupid as he looked.

And here the fat pilot was again, foiling another one of Heimlich Menudo's plans. It was too much of a cruel irony. He had to get that map from them. He ran through a few possible scenarios in his mind.

I could just walk up to them and say, "I think you have something of mine - a map." No, no, no. That won't work. They'd turn me in to the cops, get the reward, maybe even the treasure. Heimlich wouldn't like that. How about, "This is a hiccup, er...stickup. Hand over the map and nobody gets hurt." But...I don't have a gun or a mask, and that approach works better with a gun and a mask. What would Heimlich Menudo tell me to do? I know! Look in the pink bag, Weasel. Find the pink bag, and you'll find the map. But I don't see the pink bag. It must be in their car!

He turned towards the parking lot where there were approximately thirty cars. Which one's theirs?

Deciding to go about it systematically, he snuck up to the first car and peered in at the backseat. Car by car, he worked his way around the parking lot. Finally, at the last car in the second row, he spied a large pink bag in the backseat. He stealthily glanced around the parking lot. Since no one seemed to be paying attention, he quickly opened the back door and reached for the bag. Just as he zipped it open, he heard a low growl.

Startled, Weazel looked up. A little brown and white dog with a pink bow around its neck was staring at him from over the front seat.

"Good doggy," Weazel said, smiling with relief. "Nice doggy." He patted the cute little dog's fuzzy head.

The next second, he wished that he hadn't touched the dog.

Yipping, snarling, and snapping, the dog latched onto Weazel's arm and went to town.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow, ow! Bad dog! Bad dog!" Weazel shook his arm wildly - up and down, around and around, and side to side - but the territorial terrier wouldn't let go. "Get off me, you mangy mutt!"

Then, to make matters worse, the dog's owner - an elderly racoon wearing a bright pink dress adorned with blazing orange polka dots - started beating Weazel over the head with her large purple handbag.

"Ow! Hey, cut it out, lady!" Weazel choked out as he was pounded into the ground.

With a happy yip, the dog let go of its victim and leapt into the woman's arms.

"Oh, poor widdle Sadie," the old lady crooned. "Was this mean, nasty man bothering you?" She glared at the bleeding, woozy heap that was Weazel.

Poor Sadie? Weazel thought, his head reeling. He was in too much pain to verbalize his thoughts. What about poor me? That little sadistic Sadie almost KO'd me. And you've got a mean backhand, lady.

"That'll teach you not to attack a defenseless little puppy," the woman scolded, giving Weazel a parting whack over the head.

"Yip," barked Sadie, as though in agreement.

She and Sadie got in the car and drove off, leaving Weazel lying face down on the pavement, writhing in pain.

Two cars down, Weazel saw the von Bruinwalds piling into their automobile.

"Oh, no," Weazel moaned weakly when the family of bears left. He wiped the dirt from his face with his torn sleeve. Despite the searing pain, he started to crawl towards his car. He had to follow that map.

George Townsen's Hangar
Four Hours Later

Down a dirt road, out in the middle of the desert, were a cluster of hangars. The hot afternoon sunlight glinted off of the domed, metal roofs. Aircraft of all shapes and sizes were taking off and landing on the nearby runways.

Inside the largest hangar, Rebecca sat on a crate in the corner with an impatient Cassie squirming on her lap. The baby had been wiggly ever since she had awakened from her nap a half hour before, and she was mad because her mother wouldn't let her run around the hangar.

"Cassie, don't hit Mommy." Rebecca caught the cub's paw before she could slap her on the arm again. "No. Hitting is not nice."

Molly looked up at Rebecca from the floor where she had been drawing shapes in the sand. "Aren't Daddy and Kit done talking yet? We've been here forever!"

Rebecca glanced at her watch. "Three hours and forty-seven minutes to be exact. There goes the schedule for today." She shouted across the hangar at the top of her lungs, "Ba-LOOOOO!"

Baloo's languid voice echoed across the hangar. "Yeah, Becky?"

"Let's go!"

"Just a few more minutes, honey."

"You said that an hour ago! Now, flyboy!"

"After we take this one for a test flight. I promise, Becky."

"Ooo...that bear! I'll test flight him," Rebecca murmured darkly. "Ouch! Don't hit Mommy, Cassandra!" She sighed wearily. "Molly, could you run out fo the car and get Cassie's diaper bag? It has some of her toys in it."

"Okay, Mom." Molly hopped up, eager for something to do.

"And get my purse." Rebecca placed a hand to her aching head, mumbling, "I need an aspirin."

Meanwhile...

Weazel had just pulled up beside the grey Chevrolette after driving down what seemed like every road in the county. Donning his sunglasses to protect his identity, he got out and, remembering the dog, cautiously peeked into the Chevrolette's windows. Seeing the pink bag in the backseat and no dog, he grinned from ear to ear. This time for sure. He was about to open the car door when Molly came skipping outside.

A wide-eyed Weazel dropped to his knees and hastily crawled under the car, pulling his brown fedora in after him. He breathlessly watched as Molly got the pink diaper bag out of the car. She set it on the ground mere inches from his nose while she rummaged around for her book. It was so close, yet so far away! Pinioned between the car and the ground, he lacked maneuverability.

He watched helplessly as Molly slammed the car door, picked up the bag, and headed to the hangar.

"Drat!" Weazel swore under his breath.

His spirits rose when he saw Molly returning - or rather her feet returning. She plopped the diaper bag on the ground again, tantalizingly close to him. It was even closer than before. Grunting softly, he scooted his body around so that the fingertips of his right hand could close around the bag.

Molly slammed the car door. She shouldered her mother's purse and reached for the bag. But when she tried to pick it up, it wouldn't budge. Must be caught on something, she thought. She bent down to look under the car when...

"Molly!" Rebecca called frantically over the noise of the squalling baby. "Where's Cassie's toys?"

"Got 'em, Mommy!" With a fierce tug, Molly yanked the bag out of Weazel's grasp and ran to the hangar.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid girl!" Weazel fumed, pounding his fist on the ground. "I almost had it. I was this close to...getting...that...map." He laughed nervously. A snake was eye-to-eye with him.

"Ssssss!" hissed the snake.

"Aaahhhhhh!" Faster than a streak of lightning, Weazel shot out from underneath the car. He ran and ran and ran some more, right onto the runway, into the path of a Piper Superduper Cub airplane was taking off.

"Aaahhhhhh!" Weazel screamed again, taking off in the opposite direction. He ran as fast as his short, stumpy legs would go, but it wasn't fast enough.

The hem of his raggedy coat got jammed between the strut and the landing gear, and he was whisked into the air along with the plane. Legs dangling, he glanced at the receding ground below before shutting his eyes, shouting, "There's gotta be an easier way to get that map!"

Flaggstone, Aridzona
The Dewdrop Inn
9:30 PM

The von Bruinwalds were relaxing in the clean, modest motel room that they had rented for the night. All had taken their baths and had gotten ready for bed. In fact, Cassie was already asleep in one of the double beds.

Baloo drifted in and out of consciousness as he lounged, hands folded behind his head, on the other bed. Kit and Molly were curled up side-by-side on the small roll-away bed listening to Kit's portable radio.

The comedian - George Burning - said over the radio, "Say goodnight, Macy."

"Goodnight, Macy," Macy replied.

Rebecca emerged from the bathroom where she had been washing Cassie's diapers. She flicked off the radio. "It's time we say goodnight, too, kids. We've got a big day ahead of us tomorrow at the Colossal Canyon."

Molly picked up her doll from atop the pile of luggage and climbed into bed beside the slumbering Cassie. "You know what, Mommy?"

"What?" Rebecca asked quietly, tucking the blanket around her daughters. She lovingly patted Cassie on the back.

Molly beamed, exclaiming enthusiastically, "I like vacations!"

"Amen, sister!" Baloo said heartily, waking from his doze.

Rebecca chuckled softly and kissed Molly on the cheek. "Night, Pumpkin."

"Night."

Baloo rolled off the bed to give Molly a kiss. "Nighty-night, Cupcake."

"Night, Daddy. Kiss Lucy, too." She held up the doll so that he could peck Lucy's cloth cheek. "Can I sleep in the little bed tomorrow night, Mom?" Molly asked drowsily, snuggling down under the covers.

"Sure, honey," Rebecca replied with a smile. She leaned down to pull the blanket around Kit, who was stretched out on the roll-away bed. "Comfortable, Kit?"

Kit shrugged and grinned; his feet hung over the edge, but he wasn't one to complain. "I've slept on worse."

A concerned frown momentarily crossed Rebecca's face. "Oh, sweetie..." she murmured, brushing the hair from his face before planting a kiss on his forehead. "Goodnight."

"Night, Mom."

Baloo ruffled Kit's hair with a "Night, kiddo."

"Night, Papa Bear. Man, those Vertaplanes were awesome!"

"You better believe it. An' flyin' 'em! Oh, baby! That was like...like..."

Rebecca cleared her throat. Sternly, she said, "I think we've had enough planes for one day, guys."

"You can never have too many planes, Beckers," Baloo retorted, getting into bed beside his wife.

"You wanna bet?" Rebecca said teasingly.

"Yeah," Baloo rejoined, grinning mischievously.

Rebecca moved closer to her husband, placing her paws on his chest. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," Baloo replied, grinning as he pulled her close for a long kiss. "Night, honey."

"Goodnight, darling." Rebecca flipped off the lamp.

Out of the darkness came Baloo's voice. "Say, Li'l Britches, didja notice how that Vertaplane...?"

"Oh, Baloo," Rebecca interrupted impatiently, "go to sleep!"

Meanwhile...
On the Road to Flaggstone

Weazel, swathed in bandages, drove through the desert, along the near-deserted highway. He scowled into the darkness, thinking, I'll get that map if it's the last thing I do! And I'll get those bears if it's the second-to-last thing I do, or my names's not Weazel. For emphasis, he slammed his bandaged fist down on the steering wheel.

"Owwwww!"

End of part 2