down in her heart, she was a little relieved at The Barber’s departure. At least she wouldn’t have to reimburse those sailors for damages done to their boats. “That’s it!” she exclaimed, throwing up her hands.  “Where am I going to get a pilot on a moment’s notice?”

As if in answer to her rhetorical question, a car horn honked. The gaudiest, biggest automobile ever owned by any member of the  nouveau  riche  pulled up behind Higher for Hire. This car was ugly in its ostentatiousness. Ugly with a capital ‘ug’! Needless to say, it was the pride of Baloo’s heart, being the first car he had ever owned. The spotless white, gold- trimmed convertible was at least a half a block in length. A swimming pool shaded by a glaring purple umbrella occupied the rear. The hood ornament was a gold-plated miniature of the Sea Duck. Small gold wings stuck out from the sides. Gold flags, a gold windsock, and a gigantic gold horn completed the ensemble.

“Baloo!” squealed Molly in delight. The little girl ran into Baloo’s outstretched arms. She nuzzled her cheek against his cheek, then reached a paw over the big bear’s shoulder to touch Kit’s hand.

“Hiya, sweetcakes. How’re ya doin’, Beckers?” Baloo said merrily.

Not wanting Baloo to know of her failure, Rebecca replied brightly, “I’m doing fine, Baloo, though I’m kind of looking for a pilot.”

Baloo didn’t get the subtle hint. “Well, good luck. There’s lots of ‘em out there." 

Rebecca’s forced smile was exchanged for a frown  of  annoyance.

Meanwhile, Kit was shocked by the dilapidated state of Higher for Hire. Junk and undelivered cargo were piled up all around it, and the building itself was in disrepair. Broken windows and gaping holes in the walls. Even the windsock on top of the crow’s nest was tattered. “Miz Cunningham, what happened to Higher for Hire?” he gasped out finally. “If you’re in trouble I’m sure Baloo will help.”

“Don’t be silly,” Rebecca replied quietly. Catching Baloo’s eyes, she added with feigned cheerfulness, “Things couldn’t be...better.”

“Outstandin’!” Baloo beamed. “Wanna come to my birthday party? It starts in fifteen minutes.” He took out a huge, gleaming gold pocket watch from his waistcoat and opened it. It both cuckooed and chimed the half hour. Molly gazed at it with wonderment.

“Sorry, Baloo, but I’m not much in the partying mood,” said Rebecca. Her forced smile couldn’t hide the discouragement in her voice. She felt like she needed a good cry.

But, once again, Baloo was insensible to her emotions. Handing Molly to Rebecca, he remarked breezily, “Some people have no sense of priorities. C’mon, Kit.”

“But, Baloo!” Kit protested, unwillingly climbing into the car.

Back at the Sea Duck, Kit said as he hopped from the vehicle, “Baloo, you’ve gotta do something to help Miz Cunningham.”

“She said everything was hunky-dory,” Baloo said unconcernedly.

“But you saw the place!”

“So, everyone has their off days. Look at me. One day I had nothin’ an’,” he laughed, plopping down in a deck chair; “things worked out.”

“But she needs your help,” Kit pleaded.

“It’s not like I owe her anythin’. I paid her.”

“Well, she’d do the same for you, Baloo.” Kit stepped into the Sea Duck, frowning and shaking his head. What was Baloo thinking? How could he not help Rebecca? Why was he being so stubborn and selfish?

Baloo picked up a paddleball lying on a nearby table and began batting the ball with the paddle. To justify his actions and to chase away twinges of guilt over not helping Rebecca, he grumbled to himself, “I gave her fifty gees, even invited her to my party. What’s the big deal? Just because I’m the galoot with the loot. Ow!” The paddleball ball had smacked him in the eye. “Must be defective.” He carefully put the offending paddleball down.

Garth and Gus approached him with a huge burlap sack.

Baloo said jauntily, “If that’s another birthday cake, just dump it over there.” When the sack was tossed over his head, he yelled, “Hey!” and struggled with all his might.

But it was no use. The big bear was out-muscled by the two hit-men. They securely tied up their ‘package’, dragged it away to their car, and sped off.

Higher for Hire

Rebecca sat at her desk; a long roll of paper trailed from her adding machine to the floor. Ledgers and invoices and shipping orders were strewn all over her desk. She tossed down her pencil in defeat. “Oh, I’m never going to stay in business like this,” the bearess murmured forlornly. She looked up in surprise when an extremely agitated Kit burst through the door.

Upon discovering Baloo’s disappearance, Kit had run to the one person he knew he could count on - Rebecca. “Baloo’s been kidnapped! Baloo’s been kidnapped!” he panted.

“What?” Rebecca cried in disbelief.

The boy waved the ransom note that he had found on the table under the paddleball. “They have Baloo and want two hundred thousand dollars.”

Rebecca read, “Put the money in the trash can under Clapton Bridge at midnight. If you contact the police you’ll never see your friend again.”

“You’ve got to do something, Miz Cunningham,” Kit implored.

“What can I do, Kit? I’m nearly broke.”

Molly walked down the stairs. She had heard the news of Baloo’s capture. Wanting to help, she offered everything she had in her piggy-bank. “Mommy, I got some pennies. Will that help?”

“Maybe if we sold everything he owns,” Rebecca suggested slowly.

“Yeah.” Kit put a paw on Rebecca’s arm. He knew that she would think of something.

Immediately, they set to work making garage sale signs. While they were working, Wildcat wandered in. He stepped over Molly who was sitting on the floor, holding a ruler for Kit. The boy was laying on his stomach on the floor, writing on a piece of cardboard with a black marker.

“Garage sale,” the mechanic read off of a sign propped against Rebecca’s desk. “I didn’t know you had a garage for sale, Miz Cunningham.”

Kit shared a smile with Molly.

“I don’t, Wildcat,” answered Rebecca, stapling a sign to a wooden lath. “We’re going to sell all of Baloo’s things to pay for his ransom.”

“Oh.” Wildcat pondered this for a moment before saying, “Does he have a garage? I would like a garage. Could put lots of things in it, like my tools and some oil and some cabbages.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. This time Kit couldn’t contain his laughter.

At the Sea Duck’s Garage Sale...

The seaplane was swarming with people.   There were people inside, people outside, even people on top the plane.  And all of those people were grabbing and arguing over things. It was total chaos.

“Why would anyone want, let alone need, two hundred pairs of wax lips?” Rebecca cried, slithering out between two people to escape from the cramped cargo hold.

“I don’t know, Miz Cunningham, but they’re selling like hot cakes.” Kit took money from a male badger with an armful of wax lips, a pogo stick, and a toy train engine. “Thank you, sir.”

“You got any more of those wax lips?” puffed a chubby middle-aged female feline to Kit.

“First come, first serve. If we’re out, we’re out. Sorry, lady.” Kit shrugged.

The woman walked away, scowling, until she noticed a pile of paddleballs. “Ooo!” she squealed, clapping her hands. “Jasper simply loves these!”

Kit felt a pang of regret when a little hippo boy tripped off with his Aronca P-39 Thunderbuster model. Kit had barely looked at the pieces and the instructions. But he quickly shook off the woebegone feelings. They needed every dollar for Baloo’s ransom.

Two hours later, the Sea Duckwas stripped bare. Rebecca sat in the pilot’s seat, sorting and counting the piles of bills and change. “Not enough,” she murmured finally, adding and re-adding.

“How much, Miz Cunningham?” Kit asked eagerly from the navigator’s seat.

Rebecca smiled over at the boy. “It’s a good start, Kit, but...it’s not half enough. I hate to do this.” She glanced around the cockpit and ran her fingers lightly over the control yoke. She had become very attached to the Sea Duck and didn’t want to sell it.

Realizing what she was thinking, Kit nodded slowly, sadly. The Sea Duckwas a good friend, but Baloo was a better friend. They could always buy another plane, but his Papa Bear was irreplaceable. “Go ahead, Miz Cunningham. We have to get Baloo back.”

“You’re right, sweetie.” Rebecca flashed the boy a weak smile, patted the arm of the chair, and rose. “We have to get Baloo back.”

Redbud Hotel

The Redbud Hotel had once been a luxurious four-star hotel nestled on the shores of the Cape Suzette harbor. Wealthy people had flocked from all over the world simply to enjoy its beautiful views of the scenery and deluxe accommodations. Of course that was many years ago. Now it was a run-down ruin on the brink of being condemned. A perfect place to hide a kidnapped bear, especially a vociferous bear who refused to pipe down even when threatened with a gun. As was wise, the other inhabitants of the hotel - mainly bums - didn’t notice the bedlam that was going on in Room 202. They were used to shady dealings.

Room 202 offered attractive surroundings such as: bare brick walls, peeling wallpaper, faulty wiring, dusty furniture, a filthy bathroom, large cockroaches, and friendly furry rats. All this for the low, low price of seven dollars a night. The mustiness was free of charge.

Gus, the tiger, was busy tying Baloo to a straight-backed chair while Garth, the panther, telephoned Shere Khan to inform them of their success.

“You ain’t goin’ nowheres, brudder,” Gus proclaimed gruffly, securing the handkerchief gag around Baloo’s mouth extra tight. That guy’s big yap was getting on his nerves. Baloo was the most difficult kidnaping case that he had ever encountered in his career. Why couldn’t he cower in fear like everybody

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