In Search of Moe Chances
Part 1

TaleSpin and its characters are property of Disney / Buena Vista and are used without permission.

Cape Suzette
1912

A twelve-year-old grey bear cub on a bike raced through downtown Cape Suzette, weaving around the early morning shoppers and zooming past the steel skeleton destined to become the Khan Industries skyscraper. Mindless of the cop directing traffic at an intersection, he darted between a Model T and a horse-drawn wagon full of cabbages, then nearly clipped a female pedestrian wearing a large pink hat with a showy ostrich plume, who cried out in protest.

"Sorry, lady!" the boy yelled as he sped away.

Ahead of him, at the harbor's edge, a large silver dirigible balloon rose against the massive cliffs that protected the town. As he approached, he could see a big crowd that was getting bigger by the minute. He could hear a band playing "Come, Josephine, in My Flying Machine".

The cub skidded to a stop near the dirigible, hopped off his bike, and dodged through the crowd to where a mechanic was making sure the airship was air-worthy.

"Buzz! Hey, Buzz! Have you seen my uncle?"

With a pop, a googly-eyed bird pulled his head, topped with a tuft of grease-tinged feathers, out of the interior of the engine housing. "What? Oh, hi, Baloo. Your uncle? He was right over..." Suddenly, he exclaimed, "I've got it! An automobile that washes itself and cleans the street at the same time!"

Buzz pressed a button on his belt buckle, causing a couple of mechanical arms to pop out of it. One held a small notepad, the other a tiny pencil.

Baloo, who was used to Buzz's sudden wild flights of fancy, muttered, "Uh, yeah," and left the mechanic scribbling down ideas for his next great invention.

Scaling one of the ropes that moored the dirigible to the ground, Baloo was able to spot his uncle standing beside the mayor and other city officials on a temporary stage. The tall tiger mayor was doing what he liked best: making a speech.

"This is a grr-eat day, not only for us here in the growing metropolis of Cape Suzette, but for all people everywhere. Thanks to grr-eat men like Mortimer Chances pushing the boundaries of technology and doing grr-eat feats of derring-do…"

Baloo thought the speech was a grr-eat big bore. He slid down the rope and slipped inside the enclosed gondola.

The cramped cigar shaped space was lined with lightweight bamboo shelves stocked with a modicum of food, clothes, blankets, medical supplies, and spare parts. At the far end, below a large window, was the control panel and a ship's wheel.

Baloo squeezed in between a tin of crackers and a pair of boots on the bottom shelf then pulled a blanket over his head. It was the perfect hiding place.

A little while later, after all the speeches had been made, a slender tan bear sporting a thin moustache and a fashionable three-piece suit entered the gondola. Hearing the sound of crunching, the young man smiled knowingly and shook his head. He whisked off the blanket, revealing a sheepish, cracker crumb covered cub. "Looks like I've got some extra cargo."

"Busted…" Baloo groaned, crawling out of his hiding place. "Can't I go with you, Uncle Moe?"

"Not this time, Baloo. A solo flight 'round the world means I gotta go alone. Got something for ya." He pulled a red and blue baseball cap from his pocket and slung it on the cub's head.

"Gee, thanks!" Baloo cried, adjusting the cap. "How long are you gonna be gone?"

"As long as it takes. In the meantime, you be good for your Great-aunt Priscilla."

"Aw…I'm never good enough for Aunt Prissy!"

Moe, who was as easygoing as his elderly aunt was strict, instructed, "No tracking mud on her carpet or bringing in stray puppies or trying to fly by jumping off the roof of the chicken coop."

"But I almost had it last time. I just needed more tinfoil."

"You keep from breaking your neck 'til I get back, kid, and I'll teach you to fly for real."

"In your airplane?" Baloo asked eagerly. "Ya mean it?"

"Cross my heart and hope to fly."

"Well...okay. I'll try to please Aunt Prissy." Baloo hung his head with the sigh of one doomed to a life without fun. "But it won't be easy. She said someone as stupid as me will never amount to anything."

Moe frowned and thought a few uncomplimentary things about his sharp-tongued aunt. Putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, he said, "People used to say man would never fly. But what do I always say?"

"Never say never," Baloo quoted, his face brightening as he looked up at his uncle.

"That's right, kid." Moe playfully tugged the bill of Baloo's cap down over his eyes.

Higher for Hire
Twenty-five Years Later...

Baloo pushed the brim of his pilot's hat up to get a better look at the newspaper he was reading. "I don't believe it! It can't be!"

"What?" Kit and Rebecca asked simultaneously.

Baloo sprang from his chair and started stuffing everything he could find into his pockets: a bottle opener, a banana, a dart, a paper airplane, a half-eaten apple. "Pack your bags and grab all the charts you can find, Li'l Britches. We're taking off in ten minutes."

"And just where do you think you're going without your boss's permission?" Rebecca asked, playing tug-of-war with the big bear over her stapler. She managed to wrench it out of his grasp, but couldn't save a handful of pens from disappearing into his pocket.

"They found my Uncle Moe!" Baloo shoved the newspaper at her.

Annoyed, Rebecca plucked it from her face and began reading aloud. "Two days ago, fishermen off the coast of Patagoita discovered a bottle in the stomach of a shark. In the plain brown bottle was a note. Although some of the writing had been obliterated by the water, the signature was of Mortimor "Moe" Chances, the world-famous pilot whose dirigible disappeared twenty-five years ago while attempting to circumnavigate the earth."

"Moe Chances, the first man to fly a dirigible across Usland, is your uncle? Wow!" Kit said in awe.

"Yep," Baloo said proudly. "He also invented some of the first airplanes. One of 'em even flew."

Rebecca continued reading: "Both the note and bottle are now in the possession of the International Explorer's Club."

"Then that's where we're going. Ya ready, partner?"

"Ready for what?" Kit chuckled at the sight of Baloo's pockets, bulging with unnecessary objects.

Meanwhile…
At the International Explorer's Club

"Professor Bontrotter, it has come to our attention that you do not meet the necessary requirements to be a member of the Explorer's Club anymore."

This statement didn't faze the portly hippo that it was directed at. Professor Bontrotter, with his twinkling eyes and pleasant expression, seemed incongruous with the room decorated with tarnished trophies and snarling stuffed animal heads. He pushed his small round spectacles up on his nose, smiled at the men seated around the table, and said in a voice that was faintly Peareesian, "I beg your pardon, President Passel. I must have forgotten to pay my dues again."

He reached into his ill-fitting black suit coat for his wallet. Instead, he pulled out a pair of binoculars. Draping the binoculars cord around his neck, he proceeded to pat each of his pockets in search of his elusive wallet.

President Passel, a large walrus, harrumphed. "No, you forgot to explore something! Like Phipps;" he motioned towards a rhinoceros armed with a shotgun and a fierce expression; "who rowed up the Amazing River. Rodriguez;" he pointed to a polar bear wearing a heavy parka; "led an expedition to the North Pole. Even Humphrey braved the voracious crowd at the Chocowoco Market to bring us the finest chocolate in the world."

"Here, here! Best expedition this year!" Phipps and Rodriguez cheered.

The small wombat blushed with pleasure at the praise and toppled off his chair when Phipps pounded him on the back.

"Explore something or you'll be thrown out of the club."

"I'm sure something to explore will present itself shortly," Professor Bontrotter said placidly. He looked thoughtfully at an old bottle with a rolled up piece of paper protruding from its neck sitting on the table in front of the president.

Just then, Baloo burst into the room, followed by Kit.

"Where is it?" Baloo demanded. "The note from my Uncle Moe? Where is he?"

President Passel set the bottle in front of the professor. "Last chance, Bontrotter," he said meaningfully. He and the other club members filed out of the room.

"Bontrotter, is it?" Baloo said, offering a hand, which the professor shook with a smile. "I'm Baloo and this here's Kit. Let's take a looksee at that note."

The single piece of tattered paper was spread out on the table. Between the rips and blurred ink was: Lost engine….Off course...native...37°S. Moe Chances

Baloo looked disappointed. "Hmm...not much to go on, huh, Li'l Britches?"

Kit hurried over to the world map that covered one wall. "It's not so bad, Papa Bear. Only Patagoita, the Out'n'outback, New Seal Land, and a couple of small islands intersect 37 degrees south."

"If he took off from Cape Suzette..." Baloo began.

Kit continued, "The prevailing winds would have blown him towards…"

"Patagoita," Baloo and Kit said simultaneously.

Kit nodded. "Makes sense. Near where the bottle was found."

Baloo gathered up the note and bottle and headed out the door as quickly as he had entered. "Thanks, Bontrotter!"

The professor looked after them for a moment, then snatched his black fedora from the hat rack, calling, "Wait! I'm coming with you!"

Hours Later…
The Patagoita Plains

Two hats, a red pilot's cap and a black fedora, bobbed above the rustling golden grass that blanketed the flat plains as far as the eye could see.

"The Patagoita Plains are home to the Prancing Pygmies," Bontrotter mentioned as he walked behind Kit in the path tromped down by Baloo. "The small, but peaceful, group of natives live in huts made from the very grass we're walking through. If your uncle landed around here, they would know."

Suddenly, the trio came to a clearing in the grass. Directly in front of them was the pygmy village. The huts were exactly as the learned man had described: a circular base with a single door and a triangular grass 'hat'.

Baloo mopped his brow, remarking, "You're a regular walkin' encyclopedia, Professor."

"Well, I am one of the foremost geographers in the world," the hippo said with a smile and a shrug.

"What are the pygmies doing now?" Kit asked, pocketing his compass.

The professor trained his binoculars on the village. "Why, it appears to be their annual rain conga dance." He traded his binoculars for his camera, which also hung from a strap around his neck, and snapped a picture.

They watched as the alligator pygmies, rattlesnake rattle-tipped spears in hand, formed a chorus line and did synchronized kicks in time with the pounding rhythm of the bongo drums. The faster the drums played, the faster the dancers danced until they were a mesmerizing blur of red feathered headdresses, grass skirts, and kicking legs.

"C'mon," Baloo scoffed. From the gigantic cracks that crisscrossed the parched earth, it was obvious that no precipitation had fallen on the plains for a long, long time. "Dancin' can't make it rain."

Just as he said that, dark clouds obliterated the sun and a drop of rain plopped on his head.

Then the sky opened up and it became a drenching downpour.

"You were saying?" Kit said wryly as lightning flashed across the sky immediately followed by a crash of thunder.

The dripping explorers were surprised to see the pygmies scramble into canoes woven out of grass.

"What are they doin'? It's just a little rain." Baloo ran towards them, waving his arms and shouting, "Wait! I gotta ask you about my uncle!"

Suddenly, behind them, they could hear a distant low rumble that was growing louder by the second. Turning around, they saw a huge tidal wave rushing towards them.

"We gotta get back to the Sea Duck!" Baloo cried.

"It's too far away!"

"The tree! Head for the tree!" Professor Bontrotter shouted, pointing to the only tree in sight.

The explorers, pushing through the blinding rain, splashed through growing puddles towards the gigantic tree in the middle of the village. Baloo reached it first and gave Kit a boost into the branches before scrambling up after him.

"Where's the prof?" Baloo wondered.

The unflappable hippo was snapping picture after picture of the tree. "A remarkable specimen. The biggest Ombu tree I've ever seen."

Baloo retorted, "If you don't get up here right now, it'll be the last tree you'll ever see!"

He grabbed the professor by the collar and yanked him up into the tree mere moments before the wave engulfed them. Eyes shut and breaths held, the trio clung tightly to the branches as the water smashed against them with the force of a dump truck crashing into a nitroglycerin plant.

When the wave had passed and the rain had stopped, the village and pygmies had disappeared. The tree was only thing visible in a vast lake.

"Help!" Baloo shouted, his hands cupped around his mouth. "Help! Aw...nuts!" He wrung the water out of his cap. "Stuck in this tree, surrounded by an ocean of water, no Duck in sight. What else can go wrong?"

As if on cue, a log bumped up against the tree trunk and the large, wet, unhappy feline that had been clinging to it disembarked, snarling.

Grabbing for a higher branch that was just out of reach, Professor Bontrotter said, "Well, a leopard could come, looking to make us his dinner."

Crrrrack! said an extremely close bolt of lightning. The thunder answered back: Boom!

"Uh, don't look now, but the tree's on fire," Kit announced, looking at the blazing upper branches.

"This is ridiculous!" Baloo exclaimed. He didn't know which fate he preferred: fried or fare.

"Looks more like a waterspout to me," Bontrotter said, pointing off to the distance to where a funnel was wending its way towards them.

"Whoa!" they all cried as the burning tree with the three explorers and the leopard was whisked into the air.

End of part 1

In Search of Moe Chances
Part 2

Talespin and its characters are the property of Disney / Buena Vista and are used without permission.

In the Stormy Sky Over Patagoita

In the last chapter, our trio of intrepid travelers, plus one leopard, were hurtling through the air in a flaming tree, courtesy of a waterspout.

"Whoa!" they continued to shout as they spun around and around with nauseating speed.

Then, as suddenly as the waterspout had appeared, it disappeared. For a moment, the tree and its occupants were suspended in midair.

"Hang on!" Baloo gasped dizzily. "This ride ain't over yet."

As if to corroborate his statement, the tree plummeted like an elevator without brakes.

"Whoa!"

"Miraarow!" wailed the leopard, digging its claws deeper into the bark.

Sploosh! They landed in the floodwaters.

"Is everyone all right?" Professor Bontrotter asked, shakily getting to his feet only to stumble backwards over a branch. While checking the functionality of his camera, he accidentally blinded himself with the flash.

"All right here," replied Kit. He tapped the water out of his compass and assessed their situation. They were still surrounded by a vast lake with no land in sight. "The good news is that the fire's out. The bad news is that I don't know where we are."

Brushing leaves from his shirt, Baloo added, "Even worse news is that that crazy cat's still with us."

When the leopard snarled and started to approach, Baloo cooed nervously, "Nice kitty. Good kitty." He broke off a branch and put himself between the leopard and his friends. Desperately waving the stick to ward off the feline, not to mention its deadly claws and teeth, he muttered, "I don't s'pose you speak man-munchin' mountain lion, Professor?"

"Unfortunately, that is not one of the thirty-seven languages with which I am acquainted."

They all cringed as the leopard pounced…

...and jumped into a boat that had just rowed up beside them. It was occupied by the Prancing Pygmies.

"Cutie-pie!" a little pygmy girl exclaimed happily.

"Cutie-pie?" Baloo and Kit echoed, astonished.

The leopard purred as the little girl petted it.

Professor Bontrotter spoke to one of the Pygmies in their native language. After listening to the man's reply, he translated, "The chief said since you saved his daughter's pet, he will transport you to your plane. They spotted it a few miles from here."

"Solid!" Baloo said, his face brightening. "Could ya ask him about my Uncle Moe?"

The professor and the chief conversed briefly.

"Sorry, Baloo, but they have not seen your uncle or his dirigible."

At the pilot's crestfallen look, Kit reminded him, "There are still a lot of other places along the 37th parallel."

The professor took a world map out of his pocket and traced the latitude line with his finger. "The next stop is Tillagain's Island."

Tillagain's Island

The Sea Duck pulled up near a tiny island populated with palm trees. After the seaplane's propellers came to a stop, the only sounds were the waves, the wind in the trees, and overlapping bird calls.

"I don't know, Papa Bear. There doesn't seem to be anyone here."

"Professor?" Baloo asked, glancing over his shoulder at the hippo, who was examining the island through his binoculars.

"According to what I've read, Tilligain's Island is uninhabited. Of course, we could ask him."

A tall, lanky bird wearing a sailor's outfit loped along the beach, collecting coconuts and singing something about a three-hour tour.

Baloo yelled out the open window, "Hey, pal! Could ya give us some help?"

Surprised to see an airplane, the man dropped all the coconuts and hurried towards them. "Hi. Uh, sure."

"Have ya happened to see a huge silver dirigible?"

"A dirigibbible...a dirigibabble...a what?"

"Dirigible. A big balloon."

"Oh." The sailor began to count on his fingers. "I've seen lots of natives, gangsters, doctors, scientists, spies, men from outer space, and a ghost, but no dirigibibble...uh, big balloon."

"Thanks, pal!" Baloo started the Duck's engines.

As the plane took off, a portly pelican, also wearing sailor's clothes, emerged from the jungle. "Tillagain, was that a seaplane?"

"Yep, Skippy, but we didn't have what they were looking for."

"Aw...Little Buddy. That could have been our ticket off this island!" He whacked Tilligain with his skipper's hat.

Later in Ambawamba...
At the Local Shaman's Hut

Baloo, Kit, and the professor looked around at the dimly lit hut that a couple of the villagers had led them to. It was filled with curious objects. Dried herbs and hollow gourds dangled from the ceiling. Masks and beaded jewelry adorned the walls. The shelves were crowded with ceramic pots and idols. At the far end of the room hung a large, colorful tapestry.

As they stood awkwardly around a cold fire pit in the middle of the room, Bontrotter said quietly, "The shaman is the wisest person in the village. He is an expert in everything natural and supernatural. If anyone knows about your uncle, it will be him."

Suddenly, the tapestry was flung aside and a grey-haired, wizened monkey wearing a long cloak and carrying a short staff with a gourd rattle affixed to one end stepped into the room.

The shaman peered at each of them from under his bushy eyebrows as if he were trying to read their very souls, then scooped up a handful of purple powder from a ceramic pot and cast it on the fire pit. With a roar, the fire sprung to life, glowing first blue, then transitioning to green, then yellow, then orange. As he waved his arms and chanted, "Yooba dooba, hakuna matata, yooba dooba, hakuna matata…" the fire grew higher and hotter until beads of sweat stood out on the explorers' foreheads.

Shaking the rattle in Bontrotter's face, the shaman said in a mysterious voice, "I see that you are travelers from afar who are seeking fame."

The professor touched the gourd rattle and turned to Baloo and Kit with more excitement than a simple gourd should have caused. "I do believe that is a Lagenaria siceraria. They are very common in this part of the world."

Shooting the professor a quizzical look, the shaman moved on to Kit. "I sense that you have come all this way to seek a great fortune." He shook the rattle in the young navigator's face, who took a startled step backwards.

"Uh, not this time," Kit replied, glancing sideways at Baloo.

"Then you must be seeking love," the shaman said, shaking the rattle in Baloo's face, "and you need me to ask the spirit gods whom you will marry."

"Nope." Baloo gently pushed the staff aside. "I'm lookin' for my uncle, Moe Chances. Tan bear flying a dirigible. He might have landed here 25 years ago?"

The shaman's hearty laugh filled the entire room. His voice changed from overly dramatic to normal. "Why didn't you say so in the first place, man? I wouldn't have gone through the whole medicine man schtick."

Using the staff, he flipped a few switches on the wall. One turned off the gas supply to the fire pit, one turned on the overhead lamps, and one turned on an exhaust fan that drew the smoke out of the room. A flip of a few more switches and the rustic surroundings were replaced by comfortable modern furniture that unfolded or slid out from the walls.

Twirling the staff in his long, agile fingers the shaman said, "Yeah, I saw him, this uncle of yours."

"And…?" Baloo, Kit, and the professor asked hopefully.

The shaman shrugged. "He bought some supplies and skedaddled."

Desperately, Baloo inquired, "Did you see which way he went?"

With a flourish of his hands, the shaman said mysteriously, "Into the rising sun." At Baloo's disbelieving look, the monkey added, "He went east, okay?"

The Out'n'outback

Baloo, Kit, and Professor Bontrotter stood in front of the Sea Duck, which was docked at the bustling wharf. All around them ships and cargo planes were being loaded or unloaded. Across the docks were a row of shipping offices with a few rough-looking loafers holding up the sun-bleached siding.

As a kangaroo hopped by carrying three bouncing boxes marked 'fragile' that sounded like shattered glass with each bounce, Bontrotter said, "The Out'n'outback is nearly three million square miles and home to approximately seven million people."

Baloo felt the odds were a hundred to one against him. "Where do we even start about askin' about my Uncle Moe or his dirigible?"

Luckily, fate intervened.

One of the loafers, a middle-aged gecko, tipped up the dusty cowboy hat that shaded his eyes, spat on the wooden sidewalk, and approached the trio. "Did you say 'dirigible'?"

"Yeah."

The man, a gleam in his bulging eyes, looked past Baloo at the Sea Duck. "Stranger in these parts, are ya?"

Baloo frowned suspiciously. "Just who are you?"

"Gordo Grecko at your service, mate. I've been around these docks all my life, and I was gobsmacked the day when a large dirigible landed in town. Even snapped me a picture." From his coat, he drew a handful of black-and-white photographs. Flipping through them, he said, "There ya are."

Baloo peered at the grainy picture, then his face lit up like a Christmas tree. "That's it! That's my Uncle Moe's! Do you know what happened to him?"

Grecko stroked his chin. "Not exactly, mate, but a few years ago, a group of mountain climbers found some wreckage in the Flinty Mountains just northeast of here. Coulda been him."

"Aw...man." Baloo hung his head. He turned towards the Sea Duck and leaned heavily against the seaplane, banging his fist against the hull.

The professor removed his fedora solemnly.

Kit tugged on Baloo's arm and murmured, "Come on, Papa Bear. Let's go home."

The big bear, his mouth set in a stubborn line, pulled himself away from his navigator. "Nuh-huh, Li'l Britches. No way, no how am I goin' without knowin' exactly what happened to Uncle Moe."

Gordo Grecko offered, "I'll show you where the wreckage was. Got a map?"

The Flinty Mountains

The rays of the setting sun rested on the rocky-topped mountains. Far below, running like a ribbon in a wide, dusky valley, was a shimmering stream that emptied into the nearby ocean. Resting beside the stream was the Sea Duck.

Baloo stood just outside the open back hatch, peering at the map in the fading light. "I don't think that Grecko guy knew what he was talking about, kiddo. This is where the wreckage was s'posed to be, but there's no sign of it anywhere."

Hearing a wild dog howl in the surrounding woods, Kit said, "I hope the professor comes back soon." The boy arranged his armful of dry sticks in a pile.

"What's he doin' anyways?" Baloo knelt beside Kit and started to work on lighting the fire by striking a piece of flint against a steel knife blade.

"He wanted pictures of local wildlife, maybe find a few plant samples. Something to prove that he was here."

When a tiny spark fell on the sticks, Baloo blew it into a flame, which grew into a crackling, popping fire. He sat back on his heels and grinned. "My Uncle Moe taught me that."

Kit warmed his hands over the small fire. "You must have really missed him after his dirigible was lost."

"Yeah. Did I ever tell ya that he gave me that cap you're wearin' right before he left?"

Kit took off his cap and studied it. It had always been special to him. Now he realized that Baloo had given him one of his most prized possessions. Deeply moved, he leaned over and gave the big bear a big hug.

Baloo returned the hug, then took the cap from Kit and slung it on the boy's head, making sure to turn the bill backwards. Giving him an affectionate pat on top of the cap, he continued, "Uncle Moe and my great-aunt Prissy took me in after my daddy died in an airplane accident. I don't remember my mama. She died when I was real little." He stared sadly into the fire for a few moments.

Remembering himself and to whom he was talking, Baloo shook the sadness off his face and winked at the young navigator. "But me and Uncle Moe had lotsa good times. I used to hang around the airfield with him and watch him and Buzz tinker with aircraft. He even took me on some short hops in his dirigible. Never could get flyin' out of my mind after that no matter what Aunt Prissy said. The more she told me it was too dangerous, the more I wanted to fly. You know how it is, Li'l Britches."

Kit nodded enthusiastically.

"And after Uncle Moe was gone, I just had Aunt Prissy. Bossy ol' Aunt Prissy with her spotless house, her ka-jillion knick-knacks and her doilies. She was always makin' more doilies. Don't know why. The house was full of 'em."

From somewhere nearby, they heard a twig snap.

"What was that?" Kit asked, startled.

"Bontrotter?" Baloo called. "That you?"

Instead of the pleasant professor, a scowling ostrich and a snarling dingo, both armed with shotguns, stepped out of the forest.

Behind them, appearing out of the shadows with which he blended, was Gordo Grecko, a big toothy grin on his face. "G'day, mate. Or should I say g'day for me? 'Cause your plane will be the perfect getaway vehicle after we ransack the Katzenjammer Cove opal mine."

Baloo sprung to his feet, growling, "Gimmee one good reason I should let ya take my plane, ya slimy snake!"

With a snap of Grecko's fingers, the shotguns were aimed directly at Baloo and Kit. "How 'bout two good reasons?"

Glancing at Kit, Baloo gulped. "Those are good reasons."

"Tie 'em up, mates."

As their hands were being roughly tied behind their backs, Kit flashed Baloo a look that clearly said, What do we do now? Baloo's look replied, I dunno.

Just when they gave themselves up for lost, there were three hollow sounds like foom, foom, foom and Grecko and his goons were covered in a yellow substance.

"What in the…?" Grecko cried.

The ostrich exclaimed, "It's...aa-aa-achoo!...pollen."

"What's that blinkin' buzzing sound?" the dingo asked.

"Bees!"

A swarm of hungry bees headed for the criminals in order to get to the pollen only to be swatted aside. The angry bees turned on their assailants and stung them, prompting cries and curses.

Professor Bontrotter calmly sauntered out of the forest, over to his traveling companions. He held a hollow tube that looked like a blow dart and an empty jar. His eyes twinkling behind his spectacles, he teased, "Do I have time to collect more insect specimens?"

"No!" Baloo and Kit exclaimed simultaneously.

"Untie us, Professor! Quick!"

As soon as they were freed from their bonds, pilot, navigator, and professor pounded up the Sea Duck's back hatch and closed the door. In record time, Baloo had the seaplane careening down the bumpy runway and in the air.

But it wasn't fast enough.

Grecko crawled out of the stream, his face swelling from numerous bee stings, his heart seething with anger. He picked up a shotgun that one of his henchmen had dropped and shot at the escaping Sea Duck, causing the port engine to burst into flames.

Aboard the Sea Duck…

Baloo, struggling to keep the seaplane steady, shouted, "The number one engine, Kit! The number one engine!"

As Kit frantically flipped switches to turn off the burning engine, Baloo shouted, "Hang on! We're goin' down!"

The plane spiraled towards the dark ocean.

End of part 2

In Search of Moe Chances
Part 3

TaleSpin and its characters are the property of Disney / Buena Vista and are used without permission.

Aboard the Sea Duck
The Next Morning…

Baloo awoke, stiff from the crash landing. He peeled himself off the steering column, rubbed his aching head and mumbled, "Did anybody get the number of that mountain?"

From the silence, he knew he was alone in the plane.

He opened the cockpit door and called, "Kit? Professor?" Then louder, more desperately, he bellowed, "Kiiiit!"

To his great relief, he heard the boy reply, "We're over here, Baloo."

The pilot joined Kit and Professor Bontrotter, who was studying the terrain through his binoculars. It appeared that they were standing on the top of a hill overlooking a small island. To their left, in the middle of the island, was a volcano with wisps of smoke issuing from the cone. Directly in front of them was a gently sloping hill, covered with a tangle of vegetation, that led down to sandy beaches.

"Where are we?" the big bear finally asked after he had dazedly taken in their surroundings.

"I don't know," Kit replied. "This island isn't on any map."

Baloo turned around. Beyond the battered, bruised, and blackened Sea Duck, the hazy Out'n'outback coastline was visible approximately twenty miles away. "How come?"

Kit shrugged uneasily. This looked like an ordinary island, but something wasn't right. Unbelievably, it felt like it was surrounded by magic. But he, who had ridden on a fabled Yenkara's back, was willing to believe anything.

Professor Bontrotter said, "It appears we are not the only inhabitants."

Baloo snatched the hippo's binoculars and peered through them. Across the island, he could see a thin trail of black campfire smoke wafting into the air. Handing the binoculars back to the professor, he said, "Let's go pay our new neighbors a visit."

Later…

After a long, hot trek through the thick vegetation, our trio of explorers reached a small clearing where a campfire was ablaze. Over the fire was a large pot with bubbling contents, which smelled surprisingly appetizing. Nearby was a crude shelter made up of sticks covered with what appeared to be a silvery tarp.

To their surprise, no one was around.

"Hey, that looks like a piece of Uncle Moe's balloon!" Baloo stepped into the clearing to get a closer look at the silvery tarp. "Maybe he's...whoa!" he exclaimed as his ankle was encircled by a rope snare concealed under a pile of leaves, whisking him into the air.

"Baloo!" Kit and the professor cried simultaneously. As they ran to help their friend, they were also caught in rope snares. "Whoa!"

"A rope tree trap. Fascinating," Bontrotter said happily. He looked like he was enjoying hanging upside-down, awaiting whatever horribleness fate had in store for him.

"Yeah, but only if you're not the trapp-ee," Baloo replied, twisting this way and that in a futile attempt to free himself. He only managed to twist the rope and make himself incredibly dizzy.

Kit, trying to wriggle out of the knot that was cutting into his ankle, muttered, "At least I won't have to pay for that overdue library book."

They all started when they heard a savage yell. All watched in open-mouthed amazement as a hang glider cut through camp...and crashed into the trees at the far side of the clearing.

Sputtering leaves and muttering angrily under his breath, a man disentangled himself from the crumpled hang glider. He was a young brown bear with a luxuriant mustache, pilot's cap, and flight jacket.

"Aw, you're not Uncle Moe," Baloo said, disappointed.

Craning his neck comically around to see the captives better, the hang glider pilot asked in a deep, easy-going voice, "Professor Bontrotter, is that you?"

The professor looked equally pleased to see him. "Why if it isn't Monty Mangrove, a fellow member of the International Explorers Club! You disappeared last year while trying to find the Land of the Lost. What happened?"

"I got lost. Crashed my plane. Practically the only thing left was the steering wheel," he chuckled good-naturedly.

The professor's eyes twinkled behind his spectacles. "Just like that time in Timbuckthree?"

Monty Mangrove nodded and began counting on his fingers. "And Mount Neverest and Goraboara and Malaria and…"

"Uh, I hate to break up this touching reunion," Baloo interjected, "but could you get us down?"

"Hang on a minute! Heh. Not like you're not hanging on, but..." Monty Mangrove hurried over to three ropes tied around the trunk of a tree.

Giving one tug on the ropes, thus releasing the knots, our trio of explorers dropped inelegantly to the ground with a chorus of "Oofs!"

Baloo lost no time in studying the silvery tarp that covered Monty Mangrove's shelter. "If ya don't mind my askin', where did you get this?"

"Right over here. There's a whole bunch of it." Monty Mangrove pushed past a row of bushy undergrowth and pointed. "There it is."

Perched precariously across the tops of two palm trees was the dirigible's gondola, leaning slightly to starboard. The remains of the tattered balloon hung limply from the rigid framework, rippling gently in the breeze. A rusted engine as well as bits of rope and wood were strewn on the ground below.

"That's it," Baloo said heavily. "Uncle Moe's dirigible. What's left of it anyways." He kicked at a piece of rotting rudder.

"If we could only get up to the gondola, there might be a clue to your uncle's whereabouts," the professor suggested.

"Let me try." Kit pulled his airfoil out from under his sweater. He grabbed one of the mooring ropes that was still tethered to the gondola, gave it a couple of tugs to make sure it was securely attached, and flicked open his airfoil. Sliding the airfoil beneath his feet, he half-pulled, half-glided up to the gondola.

Wrenching the door open, Kit cautiously slipped in. The moldy boards creaked under his feet. When the trees swayed in the breeze, the entire gondola shifted slightly, causing a couple of empty tin cans to skitter across the floor.

On a nearby shelf, Kit spied a book. He grabbed it and stuffed it under his sweater. Taking another look around, he admired the simple but elegant design of the controls. He tried to imagine Baloo as a young boy and his first flights in this machine.

Another ominous creak and a violent shifting of the gondola that threw him against the shelf warned him that he needed to get out of there fast.

With some difficulty, Kit shouldered open the rusty-hinged door and glided to the ground.

"Besides a few empty cans, this is all there was." Kit handed the book to Baloo.

"Uncle Moe's flight log." When Baloo flipped through its fragile pages, a piece of yellowed paper fell out. "Look!" he cried, scooping it up. "It has some of the same words as the note in the bottle."

To whomever finds this,

Due to a storm over New Seal Land, I have lost my airship's engine and was blown off course. My dirigible is beyond repair and no passing ships seem to be able to see me. After about a year here, I will be making alternative tracks off this unnamed island, the coordinates of which are 37S, 152E.

Moe Chances

Jan. 16, 1914

P.S. Please give this note to Priscilla Chances or Baloo von Bruinwald in Cape Suzette, Usland.

"Alternative tracks?" Baloo blinked.

"I don't know how your uncle escaped," Monty confessed. "I've tried everything I can think of - rafting, hang gliding, even swimming. Something keeps pulling me back."

"Like magic?" Kit asked quietly.

Monty nodded. "Yep. It might have something to do with those statues."

"Statues?" Baloo, Kit, and Professor Bontrotter echoed, perplexed.

Later…
On the Other Side of the Island

"What is this place?" Kit asked, not daring to speak above a whisper. The sense of being surrounded by magic was very strong here. So strong, that the fur on the back of his neck was standing on end.

Before them was a gleaming marble temple fronted by a mosaiced courtyard filled with fountains and life-sized, life-like statues. There wasn't a cracked stone, missing mosaic tile, or even a wayward weed. It was if time and Mother Nature had no effect on it.

"I don't believe it! The Temple of the All-Know-Acle." As the professor murmured that, the volcano overshadowing them rumbled, it seemed, ominously. He snapped a picture. "This place is supposed to be a myth."

Baloo and Kit exchanged glances. They had seen their fair share of supposed-to-be myths.

"What's the All-Know-A-Cal?" Monty Mangrove asked. He looked nervously at the toga-clad fox statues that seemed to be peering down at him as they shuffled towards the temple.

Professor Bontrotter explained, "According to legend, the ancient Myomylantans traveled to this temple seeking knowledge from the spirit of the All-Know-Acle. Because of this knowledge, their civilization thrived peacefully for generations. The question is: How did the Myomylantans get here? Their city, now lost, was supposedly on the opposite side of the world."

As they stepped inside the temple, fires ignited in the sconces nearest the door. One by one, the sconces lit up progressively towards the far side until they illuminated an ornately carved altar and a larger-than-life female statue.

"The statue of the All-Know-Acle!" Professor Bontrotter gasped as he gazed at the beautiful fox beautifully dressed in marble vestments. He then proceeded to take a multitude of photographs.

A strong female voice boomed, "Whoever seeks knowledge, let him step forward."

"Uh-oh. I think we woke it up," Monty Mangrove said, teeth chattering.

With shaking knees, Baloo proceeded towards the altar. "Uh, Miss Acle? I'd like to know what happened to my Uncle Moe, please. He-he crashed here some time ago." With hands that were shaking as much as his knees, he placed his uncle's flight log on the altar.

A gust of wind blew the book open and flipped through the pages.

The All-Know-Acle declared, "Read and find the answer to that which you are seeking."

Baloo picked up book and read aloud: "The All-Know-Acle has shown me the way off the island. There is a path through the center of the earth and across the world that leads to the legendary city of Myomylanta."

Another gust of wind blew a side door open, revealing a staircase that led downwards. As they watched, open-mouthed, torches lining the underground tunnel magically lit themselves.

"The way to Myomylanta!" Professor Bontrotter gasped.

"Every explorer's dream!" Monty Mangrove added, sharing an elated look with the professor.

Laughing like children, both members of the International Explorers Club disappeared down the tunnel.

Suddenly, the earth shook violently, throwing Baloo and Kit to the ground. The volcano began flinging glowing rocks into the air, a few of which pattered on the temple roof. A rivulet of lava trickled down the side of the cone.

As Kit rushed towards the altar and his Papa Bear, the All-Know-Acle boomed, "Kit Cloudkicker! I have been waiting an eon for you."

Over the All-Know-Acle's prediction for his future as well as the low rumbling of the earth, Kit shouted, "Baloo, we gotta go. Now!"

"Yeah, we gotta go follow Uncle Moe." Baloo got to his feet and headed for the path that Monty Mangrove and the Professor had taken.

"No! The volcano is gonna blow. We have to leave!"

"Kit Cloudkicker, your destiny…" the All-Know-Acle said.

Angrily, Kit yelled at the statue, "The only destiny I care about is fixing the Sea Duck and getting off this island!"

The All-Know-Acle sounded amused as she said, "As you wish."

Kit and Baloo both fought to keep from falling as the earth shook again.

A jagged crack appeared in the stone floor. Moment by moment, it was widening the distance between Baloo, who was near the Myomylanta tunnel door, and Kit, who was closer to the outside door.

"Papa Bear, come on!" Kit pleaded, his voice cracking, his face plastered with anguish.

The same anguish that a young Baloo had once felt. Memories, long buried, flashed through the pilot's mind.

Overhearing Aunt Prissy say to a neighbor, "I just don't know how to tell the boy that Moe's not coming back."

Getting into fights and playing hooky from school when the other boys' taunting comments about his uncle became too much to take.

Nights when he cried himself to sleep, hugging the baseball cap that Uncle Moe had given him.

Suddenly, Baloo knew what he had to do. With a determined look on his face, the big bear backed up against the altar and ran as fast as he could to vault over the crack. Scooping up Kit, he sped out of the temple.

A little while later, the Sea Duck soared over the island. Neither Baloo nor Kit noticed that the temple had returned to its pristine condition or that the volcano was being doused magically with a thick, liquid white substance.

Its flames extinguished, the volcano let out a large, "BUUUUURRRRRP!"

Several Hours Later
On the Way Back to Cape Suzette

Kit shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Baloo hadn't said three words the whole flight home, which wasn't like the normally jovial and loquacious bear.

He finally ventured to break the silence. "Papa Bear?"

The pilot, startled out of his reverie, glanced over at the boy.

"I'm sorry we never found your Uncle Moe," Kit said softly.

Baloo put a hand to his pocket that contained his uncle's flight log and gazed at the distant horizon for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Then he turned to his young navigator, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears.

"Never say never, kid." Baloo tugged the cub's cap down over his eyes.

The End