A Map Made in Heaven
part 6

On the Road to Ester's Park
Wednesday Morning
Day 5

Long lanes of sunlight pierced through the pine trees and sprawled across the road that the von Bruinwalds' car was traversing as it made its way north. The bears' bad tempers were running almost as high as the alpine highway itself.

"Ouch!" Baloo winced as his head slammed against the car roof. "This road's got more bounce to the ounce than a trampoline. Do ya hafta hit every dang pothole there is, Becky?"

"I'm not trying to, Baloo," Rebecca snapped. She nervously glanced in the rearview mirror at the large truck that had been riding their bumper for the past three miles. Because traffic was so heavy, it couldn't pass.

Baloo crossed his arms and glowered at the scenery. "Seems like ya are."

"I am not!"

"You are, too!"

"Am not!"

"Are, too!" The car hit another dip, sending Baloo soaring upwards. "Yeowch!" He rubbed his sore pate. "Maybe you should get more in the middle of the road."

"And risk running into an oncoming car?" Rebecca scoffed. "That's not a good driving practice."

"Runnin' into a car would do less hurt to my head," Baloo snarled.

"But not to the car!"

Baloo turned to look at his son in the backseat; Kit was catacorner to him. "Why'd ya pick this rough ol' road, partner?"

Kit, weary of his parents' incessant bickering, replied, "Because this highway was the shortest route to Ester's Park." But it's not short enough for me.

"They should call it Pothole Road. Hope they got a good hospital in Ester's Park," the pilot murmured none-too-quietly.

"Keep up the backseat driving, flyboy, and you will need a hospital!"

"Mom, can we go to Wild Will Hiccup's Wild West Town?" Molly asked, perusing a bright brochure that had a picture of Wild Will himself on the front. "They got real horses and cowboys and shootouts and..."

"We'll see, Molly," Rebecca interrupted impatiently. "Mommy's driving."

"Is that what you call it?" Baloo said snidely.

"Ooo! Just...just stay out of this, Baloo! I'll drive; you ride." Her angry reply was muffled by the blare of the truck's horn behind them.

Just then, Cassie started to cry, because she needed to be changed. Wailing, the toddler climbed onto Kit's knees and latched onto her mother's neck from behind.

Startled by the sudden air restriction, Rebecca gasped out, "Cassie, don't...gah!...choke Mommy, honey. Do something, Baloo!"

"I am doin' somethin'. I'm stayin' out of this like you told me to." The big bear's devious smirk turned to one of agonizing pain when his head once again made contact with the car roof. "Ow!"

"Are you sure we're going the right way, Mom?" Molly asked, pitching her voice so that it could be heard over Cassie's crying. "I saw a sign that said the turn off to Ester's Park was back there."

Rebecca flashed a questioning look at Kit in the rearview mirror.

"Of course we're going the right way," Kit said peevishly. He frowned at his nine-year-old sister. "Molly probably misread the sign."

"I did not! I know how to read. Let me see the map, Kit!" Molly grabbed onto the road map that Kit held in his hands. A fierce tug-of-war ensued.

"Molly!" Kit yelped when the map ripped in two. The teenager held up his crumpled half. "Now look what you did."

"You tore it, too," Molly retorted, tossing her half of the map at him.

"Are ya one-hundred percent, posi-tutely sure we're goin' the right way, kid?" Baloo asked, holding Woobie to the top of his head in hopes that the teddy bear would serve as a cushion between his head and the car roof.

"Yes, we're going the right way!" Kit said irritably. "I've only been the navigator since forever. Doesn't anybody trust me? Jeepers!" He glared out the window, wishing that he was home, alone in his quiet room, away from his annoying family.

At her wit's end, Rebecca impulsively pulled off the road into a scenic overlook area. "Out!" she commanded. "Everyone out now!"

Baloo, Kit, and Molly stared dumbly at her. Cassie's sobs subsided to ragged whimpers.

"And that's an order!"

"You ain't gonna drive off an' leave us, are ya, Rebecca?" Baloo asked, hand on the door latch.

That tempting thought flashed through Rebecca's mind. Instead, she sighed in exasperation as she turned off the ignition. "No. We need a break from each other and this car, that's all. C'mon, baby. Let's get you cleaned up."

Meanwhile, Weazel, who happened to be driving by at a breakneck speed, saw the von Bruinwalds at the scenic overlook. At risk to life, limb and car, he stomped on the brakes, backed up, and pulled into the overlook. Engine idling, he rolled down window and put his binoculars to eyes, pretending to be a bird watcher.

The von Bruinwalds went about their business, unaware that anyone was spying on them. Rebecca changed Cassie in the backseat of the Chevrolette. Molly collected pine cones. Kit leaned against the railing, staring balefully out over the misty mountains. When Baloo put a paw on the teenager's shoulder, he shrugged him off and took two steps away.

"Sure is purdy, ain't it?" Baloo said tentatively.

Kit refused to answer. He continued to glare at the scenery.

Baloo looked at Kit for a long moment, not knowing what to say. Kit rarely got angry at him. Rubbing the back of his neck anxiously, the pilot stammered, "Um...I...uh...forget what I said back there. It was all them bumps on the head talkin'. You're still the best navigator there is, in the sky or on land, an' I'm real proud of ya, Kit. Forgive your ol' Papa Bear?" He held out his hand.

After that heartfelt apology, Kit smiled half-heartedly and took the proffered hand.

Father and son were talking like best friends when Rebecca approached them with Cassie in tow; the toddler was munching on a graham cracker. She tossed the car keys to Baloo. "Let's see how you do on Pothole Road, hotshot. If you hit one, single pothole..."

"You'll have my tail section in a sling," Baloo concluded with a grin. "Too bad we don't have chips to go along with all them dips."

The five bears piled into the car and soon were on the road again with Weazel's black Fjord following at a discreet distance.

In the Chevrolette's backseat, Molly opened her book bag and dumped her newly-acquired pine cones in. Then, a stunned expression settled on her face. She haphazardly removed everything from her bag, from the pine cones to the melted crayons. She became more agitated with each item.

Kit picked up the crumpled piece of yellowed paper that Molly had tossed on his lap. He smoothed the musty parchment out and looked it over, his eyes widening as they flitted over the Babbleonanonian pictographs. Then he gently traced the large 'X' on the left side of the map with his index finger. It appeared to be a genuine treasure map, but surely it couldn't be. Why would there be a treasure map in their car? It had to be a cleverly-produced facsimile.

He was about to say, "Molly, where did you get this map?" when she shrieked, "Stop, Daddy! Stop the car!"

With a squeal of brakes, the car bumped over a pothole and lurched onto the shoulder. A passing truck driver honked at them angrily.

"What's wrong?" Baloo and Rebecca cried simultaneously, spinning in their seats to look at their daughter.

But Molly was already out the door. She said frantically, "Open the trunk, Daddy! I gotta look in the trunk!"

Baloo shared a look with Rebecca, who shrugged in response. Everyone slid out, and Baloo unlocked the trunk.

Molly unlatched her suitcase and rifled through it.

"What are you looking for, sis?" Kit inquired, watching as she tossed clothes from her suitcase. A blue hair ribbon landed on his nose.

"Lucy. She's not here!" Big tears welled up in her eyes and her chin quivered as she wailed, "She's lost! She's lost, and...and... I'll never see her agaaaaaain!"

Rebecca knelt down and gathered her daughter in her arms. "We'll find her, honey. Shh...don't cry, Pumpkin."

Cassie also wrapped her arms around her big sister, gazing up at her with questioning eyes.

While Molly mourned her lost toy, Baloo and Kit diligently searched through the other bags, but to no avail. No brown-haired, brown-eyed doll in a blue dress was to be found.

Baloo shook his head sadly when Rebecca mouthed, "Find her?"

"We'll just retrace our steps until we find Lucy." She gave her husband a pointed look. "Won't we, darling?"

Baloo nodded. Patting Molly's golden hair, he said, "Yeah, Button-nose, we'll go rescue Lucy." He put a hand to his aching head. "Wish we didn't hafta go back over that bouncy and jouncy road again. Dunno if my noggin can take it."

Kit spread the two halves of the Coloradio map out on the closed trunk lid. "Who says we have to? About five miles back, there was a side road. We'll take that over to this other road, which will lead right into Manitoo Springs. Of course, it's not one of the speedier routes."

"Who cares?" Baloo said as they slid back into the car. "Gettin' there an' gettin' Lucy's the important thing."

One minute later...

"Wrong way! You're goin' the wrong way, you stupids! Ester's Park is the other way!" Weazel yelled when the von Bruinwalds passed him, going in the opposite direction. "They must be tryin' to throw me off the trail. Ha! I'm too smart for that old routine. Two can play that game. I'll double-cross the double-crossers."

With a squeal of brakes, he spun the steering wheel, making a tight U-turn in the middle of the road.

Dizzily, the weasel said, "When I catch up to those bears, they are going to be in real trouble, or my name's not Weasel...er, Weazel."

Weazel took off, tires smoking.

Ester's Park
Three Hours Later

"Where's the park?" Molly exclaimed. She held Lucy up to the window so that the doll could see the city. "All I see is stores, stores, houses, and more stores."

Rebecca smiled over at her daughter. She and Cassie were sitting in the backseat to give Molly moral support. "Ester's Park is the name of the town, Molly."

"More gift shops," Baloo grumbled under his breath, "means more shoppin', an' you know what that means, Li'l Britches."

"More sacks to carry?" Kit said helpfully.

Baloo nodded glumly. "Yep. More sacks to carry. Shoppin' with your mama is," he caught Rebecca's frown in the rearview mirror and swiftly changed his tune; "a whole lotta fun?"

Laughing, Rebecca squeezed his shoulder. "Sure, Baloo." She knew how much he despised shopping.

"There's a park!" Molly crowed, pointing over Kit's shoulder to a large expanse of green lawn dotted with shelter houses and playground equipment.

"The 'Big Guy's' gettin' hungry. What say we enjoy some of Mother Nature's green before spendin' all of our green on stuff?"

After their picnic lunch, Rebecca said, "I haven't gotten a picture of you kids in Ester's Park yet."

"'Yet' bein' the key phrase," Baloo murmured to Kit. "Becky's probably taken ten rolls of film already."

"Nine, if you must know, Baloo," Rebecca said, catching him in a candid shot; he was cramming a piece of fudge into his mouth. "Why don't you kids go sit at the top of the slide?"

Meanwhile, Weazel lurked behind a nearby oak tree. He watched as Molly clambered up the slide's ladder.

"Got her, sis?" Kit asked, handing Cassie up to Molly.

"Yep." Molly firmly grasped the toddler around the waist and swung her onto her lap.

"Hang on to her," Kit said. "I'm coming up."

As the cubs posed at the top of the slide, Weazel drew out his trusty revolver. "What a sweet family moment," he sneered. "Too bad it has to end."

"Say 'taffy'!" Rebecca said brightly, focusing the camera.

"No, say 'bye-bye'," Weazel said sinisterly. He closed one eye and carefully aimed his revolver at Baloo, who was sitting at the picnic table. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, he felt something tug on the hem of his trousers. He looked down just in time to see a chipmunk scurry up his leg and disappear into his jacket pocket.

"What the hey?" Weazel reached into his pocket. "Ow!" he cried, sticking his bitten finger in his mouth. "Stupid furball!"

The chipmunk climbed out of the pocket with a piece of folded-up paper chomped between its teeth. It ran down Weazel's leg, scampered up the oak tree, and concealed the paper in a hole in the tree.

"Give that back! Without that schedule, I won't know where those bears are going. If I don't get that map, Heimlich's hit-guys will get me."

The chipmunk sat on a branch, peering down at the weasel. Its chattering sounded like mocking laughter.

"Arrrgh!" Weazel screamed. Furious, he tossed the revolver at the chipmunk. It missed the chipmunk, but hit the branch. The pistol discharged, sending the bullet flying into the tree's trunk at the same time that Rebecca snapped the picture.

Rebecca said, "Okay, that's it, kids."

Molly slid down the slide with Cassie on her lap. "Whee!"

After Kit slid down, he said, "I think you need to check your camera, Mom. It didn't sound right."

Rebecca took a picture of Molly and Cassie, who were running around the picnic table. It went off with a quiet 'click'. "Sounds okay to me, Kit."

"That's funny," Kit murmured to himself. "I could swear that it had more of a bang to it, kind of like a..." The word 'gun' went unsaid; there was no need to worry his family unnecessarily. He glanced around the park. He didn't see anything except a large family of rabbits picnicking at another shelter house and a short man in a pea green suit shouting threats and throwing acorns at a tree. Kit shook his head pityingly, thinking, Must be some kind of a nut.

Downtown Ester's Park
One Hour Later

The von Bruinwalds were a few of the many tourists that crowded the streets of Ester's Park. In one short hour - or one extremely long hour, depending upon who was asked - they had visited several specialty shops. But they were far from having visited them all.

They stopped in front of a store from which emanated the aroma of pine trees mingled with holly berries. In the store windows were artificial pine trees covered with decorations. A leopard wearing a Santa Claus outfit stood at the open door, offering candy canes to customers.

"A Christmas store," Rebecca said happily. She admired the pink and white decorations on one tree in the store-front window.

"Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way..." Molly quietly sang along with the tune being played over the loudspeaker.

"Christmas? This is June! Christmas ain't for six more months," Baloo said, shifting sacks in his hands. His fingers were tingling from lack of blood flow.

"You can never start too early. Here, Baloo," Rebecca placed Cassie in his already full arms, "I don't want her to grab ornaments off of the trees. She breaks it, we buy it."

Rebecca, Kit and Molly trooped into the shop, leaving Baloo and Cassie outside.

Meanwhile...

A frazzled Weazel hurried along the tourist-filled sidewalks of Ester's Park. A chewed up piece of paper protruded from his pocket and his right hand was bandaged. He didn't care that his suit was wrinkled and shabby. He didn't care that he hadn't had a decent meal in days. He didn't care - much - that almost every square inch of his body ached. And he honestly didn't care about procuring the treasure map. However, he did care what Heimlich Menudo would do to him if he returned empty-handed.

That was why he was pushing his way through the crowds of tourists leisurely promenading past the multitudes of shops. In the meantime, he tried to devise a plan to hoodwink the five bears that he had come to despise.

"Move it!" he snapped to a mother goose with her three children tagging along behind her.

"One side!" he barked to a group of laughing teenagers.

"Outta my way, gramps!" he said, tipping over an elderly bovine shuffling along with a cane. "Why do mountains gotta be so...so...mountainous?" Weazel puffed, holding his aching side. He got his second wind when he spied the bears.

Seeing the lady and two of the kids enter the Christmas store, he made his way through the alley to the unlocked back door. Hand clenched around his revolver, he walked into a dingy back room filled with boxes of new ornaments as well as discarded merchandise. When the doorknob on the door leading to the store rattled, Weazel ducked behind an old artificial tree.

"I'm going to lunch, Dolores," said a male voice.

"All right, sweetie," Dolores answered between gum smacks.

A short, stout leopard wearing a Santa suit entered the back room and removed his red hat and coat. He hung them up on a peg. Now, clad simply in a T-shirt emblazoned with "The Sox", he picked up a paper sack, and exited by the back door.

When the door had closed behind the leopard, Weazel came out of hiding. He grinned at the Santa costume. The perfect disguise. With this coat and this cap, I'll look just like good old Saint Nick, he thought.

Weazel quickly put on the coat and hat. Finding candy canes in the Santa coat, he unwrapped one and stuck it in his mouth. He then cautiously opened the door leading into the store and peered out the crack.

He saw a store crammed wall-to-wall with Christmas merchandise, sales clerks in Santa hats, and tourists. Especially tourists. Over the din, Christmas music was playing. His eyes lit up when he spotted the three bears he was searching for.

Weazel pushed up the hat that had fallen over his eyes and strolled through the store, over to where the Rebecca, Kit, and Molly were. He hid behind a Christmas tree and crunched on the candy cane.

He heard Molly say, "Where are we going after this?"

"Bhaer Lake. We're going to take a nature hike," Rebecca replied, turning a sterling silver bell over in her hands.

"How far is that?"

"Not far," Kit answered. "It's in the Rock 'n' Roll National Park."

"Oh, goody! Another park to play in."

"It's not a 'park' park, Molly," Kit said with a smile.

"Oh," Molly said disappointedly. "You mean it's like Ester's Park with stores."

"No, it's more of a preserve."

"Is it on the map?"

"Yeah, but Papa Bear's got the map outside."

Outside! The fat pilot has the map outside! the weasel thought excitedly. Yes, Weazel, there is a Santa Claus.

He rushed towards the door, bumping into Kit in the process, who politely murmured, "Excuse me."

Kit stared at the retreating Santa. He thought, There's something familiar about that guy. He pushed it from his mind when Rebecca said, "What ornament would Daddy like?"

Outside, Baloo, to his immense relief, had spied an empty bench. He wearily sank onto it and let the sacks fall from his aching hands. "Man, all this shoppin' wears a guy out. Wish there was a mattress store givin' out free trials."

Baloo grinned down at Cassie, who was sitting on his lap, looking up at him expectantly. He glanced around quickly to ascertain if anyone was paying attention to them. No one was. "Can you say shoppin' is bad, Bugaboo?" Bugaboo was Baloo's special nickname for his youngest daughter, but he didn't dare say it before anyone, especially Rebecca, for fear of being seriously mocked.

Cassie's face split into a cute smile. "Boo!"

"Ya wanna play the bugaboo game?"

Cassie grinned at him.

"All right. Ya talked me into it." Baloo hid his eyes, saying, "Where's my little bugaboo? Where is she?" Then he took his hand from his eyes, exclaiming, "There she is!" He lightly blew a raspberry on her round cheek, inciting a gleeful squeal from Cassie. "Bugaboo! Daddy's little bugaboo! Yes, you're daddy's little buga..." Baloo coughed self-consciously when a man pushing a stroller containing seven wiggly toddlers plopped down beside him on the bench. "Bug... caught in my throat. Ahem!"

Cassie, who wanted the game to continue, whined, "Dad-dee!"

Baloo dug around in the shopping bags until he found a sack of salt water taffy. He chose an orange one, unwrapped it, pulled off a small piece of the gooey confection for Cassie and popped the rest in his mouth.

Cassie's jaw worked up and down, up and down laboriously.

The man beside him - a skinny, haggard-looking rabbit - said wistfully to Baloo, "You only have one?"

"Three, actually," Baloo said, snatching the taffy sack away from Cassie before she could plunge her sticky little hands in. Instead, he gave her another small ration of a pink piece of taffy, which she squished between her fingers, fascinated.

Through the chewy taffy, Baloo mumbled, "The older kids are shoppin' with my wife. Want one?" He offered the taffy to the man.

"You're lucky," the rabbit said, refusing the taffy. "Only one quiet little girl to look after."

Baloo snorted. "Cassie ain't exactly quiet."

As if to prove his point, the toddler wailed, "Dad-dee! Can-dee!"

Just then, the rabbit shouted, "Hey, Donnie, no, Johnnie...oh, whoever you are! How many times do I have to tell you not to hit your brother in the head with trash?"

The septuplets were in constant motion. They were up and down in their seats, hitting each other, pulling on hair, ears, and clothes and playing tug-of-war with their toys. It made Baloo dizzy just to watch them and listen to their deafening shrieks.

"Seven," said the man dismally.

"Seven what?"

"Children. That's Lonnie, Donnie, Ronnie, Connie, Bonnie, Johnnie, and Burt, Jr."

"How do ya keep 'em straight?" Baloo said in amazement.

"I don't."

Cassie, meanwhile, was creating her own mischief. She was now trying to cram handfuls of taffy - wrappers and all - into her little mouth.

"Give the candy to Daddy," Baloo said patiently, holding out his paw.

Cassie said one of her favorite words. "NO!"

Baloo pried the candy from her hands, causing her to cry. "Sorry, kid, but it's for your own good. You don't want a tummyache later on, an' I don't want an earache from your mama blastin' my ears out."

One of the septuplets latched onto the taffy sack and ripped it. Some taffy fell to the ground, but most found its way to the little boy's mouth.

"Oh..." moaned Burt, Sr. He took out his wallet and handed Baloo a few bills. "Sorry about that. See what I mean? That kind of thing happens all the time. If they're not fighting, they're breaking something."

"Must be rough," Baloo said sympathetically, trying to keep Cassie from squirming out of his arms. She wanted that piece of taffy on the ground.

"Rough isn't half of it."

A plump matronly rabbit approached them with a set of six-year-old quadruplets - two boys and two girls - tagging along. The quadruplets were arguing amongst themselves. Her haggard expression matched Burt's. "We're ready to go, dear."

"You've got more?" Baloo exclaimed.

"Yep," Burt Sr. sighed wearily. "Eleven in all."

"Wow...that's, um, wow," was all Baloo could murmur.

Cassie, who had stopped crying, echoed, "Worw."

Just then, Weazel approached them. "Ho, ho, ho," he said in a deep voice. "Ho, ho, ho. Would you like a candy cane, little girl?" He handed a candy cane to Cassie.

"Say, that's real nice of ya, Santa," Baloo said, grinning. "Say, 'thank you', Cassie."

"Tank-u," Cassie murmured shyly, burying her face in her father's shirt.

Weazel reached for his revolver. "Now, you can give Santa a present in exchange."

"Huh?" Baloo said, confused. "Ain't that backwards?"

"No, it's a little thing I like to call revenge."

But before Weazel could pull his revolver from his jacket, eleven little rabbits swarmed all over him, clamoring for candy.

They reached their grubby little hands into his pockets, shouting in their shrill voices:

"I wanna candy cane!"

"I wanna candy cane!"

"That's my candy cane!"

"No, that's my candy cane!"

Weazel, his Santa coat torn from him by the little hooligans, escaped with his life. He fled down the street, his bright red Santa cap bobbing up and down.

"Let's go round them up, Muriel, dear," Burt said wearily.

Baloo watched as the chaotic crowd retreated and the noise faded. "Well, that's somethin' ya don't see everyday, eh, Bugaboo?"

"Boo!" Cassie said, covering her father's eyes with her little paws.

"Where's Daddy's little bugaboo?" Baloo asked. When Cassie removed her paws, he gasped with mock-surprise, "There she is!" and cuddled her close.

Cassie giggled.

Baloo chuckled along with her, then his smile faded. "Wonder what Santa meant by revenge...?"

He snapped out of his reverie when Rebecca waved a bag in front of his face. "Okay, ready to pull chocks, Baloo."

"Wanna see the ornament Mom picked out for you, Daddy?" Molly said, holding up a small box, which had a picture of the Kitty Hawk Kids' airplane on the side.

"Yeah, that's real nice." Baloo grinned, then he kissed an extremely surprised Rebecca on the cheek. "Have I ever told you thanks for only havin' three kids?"

Rebecca stared at her husband, dazed. Her eyes narrowed. "No...why? Is this a trick, Baloo?"

Baloo shook his head, stood up, gathered the sacks, and started down the street.

"Why on earth does Cassie have pink goo all over her face?" Rebecca asked. She spit on her finger and wiped the toddler's face, causing the little girl to squirm uncomfortably. "And what happened to the taffy that I just bought? Did you eat it already? Baloo! Answer me, Baloo!"

For once, Baloo actually enjoyed the scolding. It was preferable to the din that he knew Burt, Sr. had to endure day after day. "Ah...music to my ears."

Hiking Trail from Bhaer Lake to Faerie Lake
Two Hours Later

"If ya wanna catch a big bear, ya gotta set a big trap," Weazel averred, throwing an armful of leaves over a mesh of sticks, thus concealing the large hole that he had dug. "There. That oughtta do it."

"Now, for the bait." The bait was a jar of honey. He removed the lid, tiptoed to the edge of the trap and carefully placed it in the middle. He stood back to regard his handiwork with pride. "This gives a new meaning to the phrase 'tourist trap'.

Hearing voices approaching, Weazel whispered excitedly, "Here they come!" He quickly hid behind an aspen tree.

"Do you think real fairies live at Faerie Lake?" Kit asked as he easily trekked up the mountain path. Cassie rode on his shoulders.

Molly, who had to take three steps for each of Kit's long strides, said incredulously, "How old do you think I am? Cassie's age?"

"Well, you do believe in Santa Claus," the teenager said teasingly.

"That's different," Molly said with an indignant toss of her head. "I saw him."

Kit grinned. "Sure, Short Stuff, and I've got the Sea Duck in my pocket."

"Ask Mom and Daddy. They saw him, too."

Kit stopped and looked back at Baloo and Rebecca, who were forty paces behind. "Poor Papa Bear. Walking definitely is not his favorite exercise."

"Look, Kit," Molly said. "Someone left a jar of honey here."

"Huh." Kit circled the honey as well as the pile of leaves it sat on. "What a strange thing to leave in the middle of a trail."

"Definitely strange," Molly murmured, watching an ant climbing up the side of the honey jar. "Wait up, Kit!"

Twenty paces behind, Baloo huffed and puffed as he laboriously made his way up the mountain trail. "Why...are we...doin' this...Becky?"

"If there was treasure or food at the end of the trail, you wouldn't think anything of this climb, Baloo," Rebecca said, eyes twinkling mischievously. She, her arms around his, half-led, half-pulled him up the mountain.

"Hardy-har-har," Baloo gasped.

She motioned to their rustic surroundings - the birds singing overhead, colorful wildflowers that nodded their heads along the trail, aspen trees whose leaves quivered in the soft, summer breeze, stately pine trees reaching towards the clear, blue sky. "We're doing this to have a real mountain experience, to convene with nature..."

"To...find...a jar...of...honey," Baloo panted. He stopped and clutched his aching side, unknowingly standing on the trap.

Weazel's eyes flamed with eager anticipation. He stepped out from behind tree to witness the capture of his prey.

"A jar of honey?" Rebecca exclaimed. She, too, stood on the trap.

Weazel could hear the sticks cracking beneath their feet. "Just a few more seconds," he whispered, rubbing his hands together.

"Whattaya suppose the honey's doin' here, honey?"

More popping and cracking from the sticks.

"Staying here. Come on, Baloo," Rebecca said, catching hold of his hand and dragging him away from the honey before he could think of eating it. "We have to catch up with the kids."

Both bears walked across the tiger trap safely.

When they had gone around a bend in the trail, Weazel went over to examine the trap. "What...what the heck happened? Why didn't it work?" He stood in the middle of the trap, near the jar of honey. Nothing happened. The sticks held.

So, he started bouncing up and down - gently.

The sticks held.

He jumped up and down more forcefully.

The sticks still held.

"I must have made it too good," Weazel murmured, scratching his head.

Just then, a chipmunk scampered across the trap and sniffed at the jar of honey.

"Oh, it's another one of you nut-eatin', schedule-stealin', buck-toothed rodents. I'm gonna get you." With a crazed laugh, Weazel sprang towards the chipmunk.

The sticks splintered and with a mighty 'crack', Weazel did a belly-flop into the pit. "Aaaaaahhhhh!"

Thud.

"Ow..." Weazel moaned faintly.

The chipmunk, who had run when the ground moved beneath it, stood on the edge of the pit, its stubby tail wagging cheerfully. Far below was Weazel, covered with leaves and sticks. Honey oozed out of the jar that was upside-down on his head.

The chipmunk's chattering sounded like mocking laughter.

Weazel shook his grimy fist at the chipmunk. Bitter tears mingled with the dirt and honey on his cheeks. "Stop laughing," he sobbed. "What am I going to do now, Heimlich?"

End of part 6