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

Previous Page

1 2 3 4 5

Next page