over a railroad tie, and tumbled into the cart, breaking the brake in the process. The cart started down the tracks and disappeared into the tunnel.

A split second later, the lights came back on. “Dark, huh? I know what will scare the beejeebies out of you - a good joke. How did the female bat attract the male? By batting her eyelids! This way, folks. Follow the brown rock path.”

Meanwhile, the cart went bumpity-bump, clickety-clack down, down, down the tunnel, gaining momentum. The track was so rough that Weazel felt as if his teeth were going to be rattled out of his head. When he finally struggled to his knees, his eyes strained to see through the darkness. He wanted to get off this crazy ride, but he couldn’t even see the end of his nose and he preferred to look before he leapt. Then, he remembered that he had a book of matches in his pocket.

While fumbling for them, the cart flew through a wall-to-wall spider web. “Yeeuck!” he exclaimed, wiping the sticky web from his face. “The housekeeper’s slackin’ off.” With trembling hands, he swatted at a spider that was crawling on the back of his neck. “This place needs an exterminator,” he said with a shudder.

“Whoooaaaa!” Weazel yelled as the cart rounded a sharp bend on two wheels. It then slammed back onto the tracks with bone-jarring ‘thud’, causing sparks to fly.

“Glad that’s glub...” Weazel spluttered as the cart splashed through a waterfall.

Then, his stomach dropped out from under him, as did the ground. The cart had fallen into a chasm, a veritable bottomless pit.

“Heeellllppp!” Weazel screamed, holding onto the sides of the cart with a death grip.

Help came from an unlikely source. A geyser boosted the cart upwards. Before Weazel had a chance to throw up, the cart was thrown onto the tracks on the opposite side of the chasm.

“Whew! That was close!” Weazel said as the cart rumbled through the tunnel. But he had spoken too soon. Bats, peeved that their peaceful slumber had been disturbed, swooped down on him, squeaking and screeching.

Weazel drew out his revolver. “Take that, you bats!” he shouted, firing randomly towards the ceiling. “And that! And even that!”

One bullet ricocheted off a stalactite. The icicle-shaped cylinder of calcium carbonate shuddered, swayed, and smashed to the ground, landing in the middle of the tracks.

When the cart crashed into the stalactite and tipped over, Weazel was thrown out. He hurtled through the tunnel. Up ahead, he saw a light in the distance. Squeezing his eyes shut, he thought, This is the end.

It was. The end of the tour, that is.

Weazel landed in a heap behind the tour group.

Gord was saying, “And that concludes this tour of the Cave of the Four Winds, not to be confused with the Cave of the Passing Wind. That’s near Flushing. Be-de-ba-be-de-ba-be-de-ba- bats all, folks!”

The tour group groaned collectively before dispersing.

“That was fun, but it needed more excitement,” Kit said as he and his family traipsed through the gift shop where the tourists had been funneled.

Weazel, wet, muddy and exhausted, crawled out of the cave. “Speak for yourself, kid. This ain’t over ‘til the fat bear sings!” he whispered before collapsing.

Mike’s Peak
A Half Hour Later

“We’ll be comin’ around the mountain when we come,” Baloo sang at the top of his lungs. “We’ll be comin’ around the mountain when we come. We’ll be comin’ around the mountain, we’ll be comin’ around the mountain, we’ll be comin’ around the mountain when we come.” The big bear drove the car up the steep, winding path to the top of one of the tallest mountains in the Rock ‘n Roll range - Mike’s Peak. Oh, so slowly, they went up, up, up and around, around, around, twisting around the mountain itself.

“Twee, twee, twee, twee, twee,” Cassie said happily, announcing the appearance of every single coniferous tree there was. The dark green pine trees crowded close to the narrow, twisty road.

“It smells like Christmas,” Molly stated from the backseat. She took a deep breath of the brisk, pine-scented air.

“Twee, twee, twee...”

The trees thinned out as they climbed into the tundra region of the mountain. The lush forest was replaced by thin greenish-brownish grass, rocky soil, and patches of snow.

“Twee?” Cassie turned big, wondering eyes towards her mother.

“No twees, er, I mean, trees up here, Cassie. It’s too cold.”

“Speakin’ Cassie-talk there, Becky?” Baloo chuckled.

After shooting a glare at her husband, Rebecca suggested, “Look at the snow, baby.”

“Oooo!” the toddler squealed in delight. “Snow, snow, snow, snow...”

Baloo groaned, “How do ya turn her off?”

Rebecca giggled. “Sorry, Baloo, but we didn’t get the model with a shut-off switch. You were the one who couldn’t wait for her to talk.”

“Yeah, I wanted her ta say ‘daddy’ an’ that was it. This ‘twee’ business is drivin’ me batty!”

Kit handed Cassie’s rubber giraffe to his mother. The little girl stuck it in her mouth.

“Ah, the sound of silence!” Baloo sighed in relief. “Thanks, kiddo.” He flashed a grateful smile at Kit in the rearview mirror.

“There’s the top!” Molly shouted excitedly.

“‘Bout time,” Baloo murmured under his breath. Maneuvering the car around the tight hairpin turns was trickier than doing a Baloo Corkscrew. The car wasn’t as responsive as the Sea Duck.

They pulled into another parking lot in front of another gift shop.

“Man, these gift shops grow everywhere,” Baloo commented wryly.

Upon entering the gift shop/observatory, a wonderful aroma, a chocolate-y aroma, assailed Baloo’s nose. It overpowered the mingled scent of spices, flowers, leather, and new clothes. He drifted like a man possessed to the fudge counter. Baloo eyed the squares of delectable fudge, his salivary glands working overtime.

“Yeeeeeee-eeeeeees?” said the salesman, traversing down and up the entire musical scale with just that one word. The hippo looked suspiciously like the salesman from Hayseeds ‘R’ Us. “May I help you, sir?”

“You sure can!” Baloo said, nose pressed to the display case glass.

The salesman, seeing a potentially large client, er, sale, offered the big bear a minuscule chunk of fudge just to get him hooked. Baloo placed the chocolate chip-sized piece on his tongue where he let it melt. “Mmm...baby! That makes drivin’ all the way up here worth it!”

Smiling, the salesman got the jumbo-sized box ready. “How much do you wish, sir?”

Five minutes later...

“An’ a piece of the Rocky Road, a piece of the chocolate mint, one square of the raspberry creme, one with the pecans on it, and, I can’t forget one of them with the walnuts. Ooooo! You even got chocolate-chocolate-chocolate! Definitely one, no, make that two of ‘em.”

“Will that be all, sir?” the salesman said, holding up the bulging box.

“Did I get some of every kind?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then, yep, that’s it.” Baloo took out his wallet while the salesman weighed the box of fudge.

“Five-and-a-half pounds at $3.50 per pound comes out to be $19.25.”

Baloo peered at the meager contents of his wallet - two cents, a french fry, his pilot’s license, his driver’s license, and a few snapshots of his family. “Uh, I seem to be a little short,” he said with an embarrassed chuckle. “Don’t let that fudge go anywheres. I’ll be right back with the moolah.”

The desperate bear sped through the crowded gift shop to track down Kit, who was looking at table full of snow globes. “Hey, kid, how much money do ya have on ya?” he murmured casually. His eyes flitted around the gift shop in search of his wife. He wanted to keep this matter strictly hush-hush.

“Why?” Kit asked suspiciously, recalling the last time that Baloo had borrowed money; they had ended up being chased all over the world by Trader Moe and his goons. He reflexively slipped his hand in his pocket.

Before Baloo could answer, Molly tugged on her father’s shirt. She held up a snow globe containing a miniature Mike’s Peak. “Can we get this for Wildcat?”

“Sure, sure, Button-nose,” Baloo said absently. “I’m in a real sticky situation here, Li’l Britches. I need twenty smackers to buy some fudge. You know what your mama would do if she found out I’d bought candy.”

Kit nodded. “She’d confiscate it.”

“Yeah, and then she’d take it away from me. So whattaya say?”

“Fine,” Kit said with a resigned sigh. He knew Baloo wouldn’t stop pestering him until he gave him the money. He pulled a few crumpled bills from his pocket.

“Thanks, Kit.” Baloo took the bills his son offered him. “I owe ya one.”

“You owe me twenty, Papa Bear,” Kit retorted.

“You won’t tell, will ya?”

Kit shook his head whereas Molly said slyly, “Oh, I won’t tell, Daddy, as long as you let me have some fudge.”

Just then, Rebecca joined them, Cassie in her arms. She

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