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 getme.”

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.

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