Baloo cried, astonished that she would even consider another get-rich-scheme after what they had just gone through. “Take a look-see at our pontoonsee. We’ll be lucky if we make it back in one piece from this idea.”

Rebecca looked out the window at the broken pontoon, then snuck a peek over at Baloo, who was slumped wearily in the pilot’s seat. His grim face was streaked with sweat and sand. He had his hands full fighting the weird drag that the busted pontoon created. She felt a twinge of guilt. They still had a seven-hour flight ahead of them. What if the injured Sea Duck couldn’t make it back home? A million nagging doubts and fears crowded her mind, but she pushed them away quickly.

Instead, she started to think of a Plan ‘B’. Because the feather idea had basically flopped, she was more determined than ever to prove to Baloo that her moneymaking ideas worked. She would show him!

Saturday Morning

It was a bright, sunny day in the coastal city of Cape Suzette. In a modest residential area, a grey sedan pulled over to the curb. Rebecca and Molly got out of the car and started up the tree-lined walk towards a single-story brick house. Rebecca had the little girl by one hand and a lavender suitcase containing toys and clothes in the other hand.

“How come I gotta stay with Mrs. Palaver, Mommy?” the little yellow cub whined, trudging up the sidewalk as slow as she could. “Why can’t I go with you to Higher for Hire? Yesterday, Wildcat said he was gonna teach me how to put a flapdoodle on a dealybobber.”

Rebecca gently squeezed her daughter’s hand before ringing the doorbell. “Because Mommy’s not going to be around to keep an eye on you today.”

“So what? When you’re there, you don’t keep an eye on me anyway,” Molly muttered derisively.

Rebecca felt guilty as she gazed down at Molly’s reproachful face. Managing a business left her with little time for her six-year-old daughter. She knelt next to her and placed a gentle hand on the girl’s shoulder. “I want you to stay with Mrs. Palaver, honey, because I’m going to a faraway country to get something that I can sell for a lot of money. It might be really late when I get back.”

“I wanna stay with Baloo and Kit and Wildcat. They’re funner.” Molly stuck her lower lip out in a pout. “Mrs. Palaver doesn’t let me eat Frosty Pep, she doesn’t have a radio, and she talks allthe time!”

When the door opened, Rebecca shushed her daughter with a stern look and stood up. The bearess smiled at the elderly crane, who had frizzy bluish hair and wore a faded red housecoat. “Thank you so much for agreeing to watch Molly on such short notice, Mrs. Palaver.”

“It’s no problem, no problem at all, Mrs. Cunningham,” Mrs. Palaver said pleasantly. Her bright blue eyes, magnified by thick glasses, twinkled down at the little girl. “Molly’s such a joy to babysit, but she’s so quiet. She barely says a peep.”

Because Mrs. Palaver was chattering away, she didn’t hear Molly murmur, “I’m not a baby.”

Quiet? Is she talking about my daughter? Rebecca thought, giving the scowling girl another warning look. “Now, be good, Molly.”

“I’ll be good,” Molly said dully. “I promise.”

“Bye, Pumpkin. I’ll come pick you up later.” Rebecca kissed Molly on the cheek, handed the suitcase to Mrs. Palaver, and started down the sidewalk.

Before the door closed, she heard Mrs. Palaver say, “You can help me iron my bed today. Won’t that be fun?”

“Yippee,” Molly said unenthusiastically.

Rebecca got in the car, pulled away from the curb, and headed for Higher for Hire. While stopped at a stop sign, she glanced down at the seat. Beside her was the book that she had just purchased, entitled A Million Ways to Make a Million Dollars. Next to the book was a small paper sack, from which emanated a pungent aroma.. She smiled and continued down the street.

As she drove through downtown Cape Suzette, Rebecca thought about Higher for Hire’s current financial state. Upon returning to Cape Suzette, she had immediately sold the fourteen feathers that she had collected, grossing $2,100. However, after deducting for fuel consumption, she had netted only $420.23. But she wasn’t discouraged. If there was one thing she had learned in business school, it was try, try again, and Rebecca Cunningham was no quitter.

Her newest plan was bound to make her rich. It was going to be much simpler than gathering ostrich feathers, and, best of all, there weren’t going to be any nomads to stand between her and what she wanted.

The thought of all that money caused her eyes to sparkle with anticipation as she pulled up beside Higher for Hire.

A short distance away, Wildcat, Higher for Hire’s mechanic, was examining the arrows lodged in the Sea Duck’s pontoon while Baloo and Kit looked on from the dock. With the skill and dexterity of a neurosurgeon, the wiry lion carefully chose the right tool from his toolbox - an eggbeater. He put the whisk part of the eggbeater on the arrow’s shaft, cranked the handle, and tugged. The arrow popped out, and Wildcat landed in the harbor with a ‘splash’. When he resurfaced, he said, “Yep. Definitely an arrow.”

“And?” Baloo asked.

Clambering onto the dock, the soaking wet lion replied matter-of-factly, “And you’ve got a whole bunch of them.”

“I know that,” Baloo said irritably. “What about the pontoon?”

Wildcat poked the sagging pontoon before making his prognosis. “Gonna need a new one of those.”

“We gotta get us a pontoon, or we’re grounded.” Seeing Rebecca enter Higher for Hire, Baloo said, “And there’s the lady to get us one.”

Baloo followed his boss into the office. “Yo, Rebecca, I got a pontoon to pick with you.”

Because Kit had heard all about the previous days’ adventure from Baloo, he was curious to see how this would play out, so he quietly stepped into the office and closed the door behind him. He leaned against the door, crossing his arms.

Smiling, Rebecca said, “Baloo. Just the person I wanted to see.”

“Now, about that new pontoon...”

“Here, buster.” Rebecca pulled a sepia-colored mushroom from the sack and shoved it in the pilot’s hands. “Feast your eyes on what I just bought. My next great idea.”

Baloo studied the mushroom with a cynical eye. He didn’t see what was so great about it. He flicked the side of it with his finger, producing a hollow thumping sound. “What are they - used golf balls?”

“They’retruffles.” Rebecca pronounced the word as if the fungus’s name alone denoted its value. Of course, she couldn’t expect her uncouth pilot to know anything about gourmet food, so she explained, “Mushroom delicacies. People eat them.”

Baloo decided that if it was edible, then it was for him. He popped it into his mouth. “Hmm...not bad.” After swallowing, he commented, “Could use a little salt though.”

Hearing the ‘gulp’, Rebecca spun around, shocked. He didn’t!

The truffle was gone and Baloo was licking his fingers.

He did! Ooo, that stupid fat bear! Furious, Rebecca latched onto Baloo’s lapels and shook him roughly. She screamed at the top of her lungs,“Baloo! That cost fifty dollars!”

For the first time since that incident with the month-old hamburger, Baloo felt sorry for eating something. “Fifty bucks for a little wrinkly thingy like that?”

“Boy, Baloo, that’s putting her money where your mouth is,” Kit said, grinning. His smile turned to astonishment when Rebecca knocked Baloo to the floor. She climbed onto his back and pried his mouth open as if she wanted to reach down his throat to retrieve the truffle.

It was an extremely mismatched power struggle. Baloo weighed at least three times more than his boss, but because he was too much of a gentleman to strike a woman, the small bearess was winning.

“Truffles...grow in the...jungle,” she informed her pilot while fighting to remove his large paws from her wrists. “I’m gonna find them and bring them back and sell them for fifty bucks a pop. We’ll make a fortune.”

“You’re crazy!” Baloo exclaimed, finally managing to detach himself from Rebecca; she sat down with a ‘bump’ on the floor. “We need a pontoon first, so fork over the moolah!”

“I’m sorry, Baloo,” she said serenely, getting to her feet; “but we’re buying a pig instead.”

“Apig?” Baloo and Kit cried simultaneously.

MacDonald Farm
Two Years Previously

Dave MacDonald had a farm near the city of Cape Suzette. And on this farm, there was a piglet. Mr. MacDonald also had a five-year-old daughter named Nancy. Wherever Nancy was, the piglet was sure to go.

Nancy played with the piglet constantly, dressing it in her doll clothes one day, leading it around like a puppy on a leash the next. She fed it leftover scraps from her own plate. She even rocked it to sleep while singing “Rock-a-Bye Baby”. Yes, Nancy loved the piglet.

But her father did not. To him, the piglet was nothing more than food on the hoof. Whenever he saw the piglet, he would slap it hard on its rump and speculate loudly on how many pounds of bacon he would get from it.

Time went by. The piglet grew and waxed fat. It was no longer a piglet, but a huge, hulking, hungry hog. It rooted up all the vegetables in the garden. It chased the chickens. It wallowed wherever it felt like, turning the lawn into a mud hole. It ate everything that wasn’t nailed down as well as a few things that were. In short, it was a nuisance.

Because the farmer had commented so many times about the amount of bacon that he was going to get from that hog, the hog developed a strong aversion to the word ‘bacon’. Every time the pig heard that word, he squealed loudly and tore wildly around the

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