THE SMUGGLER
The Ranger had been puzzled by strange footprints he had found on the
river bank. He had also been disturbed to learn that the lumbermen just
over the pass were getting liquor. The lumber boss complained that in
some mysterious way they were getting the forbidden stuff. There had
been several serious accidents in felling the great trees because the
men had been drinking. The Ranger suspected that there might be a
smuggler about who was bringing rum from some point alongshore up the
river, but he could find neither the man nor his cache.
This summer the Ranger had his hands full, what with the danger of
forest fires, and a dozen other things. The Boy wished he might help.
It fell to Chinook to play the instrument of destiny. Sniffing around
one day, he found a cave in the rocks above the river bank from which
issued the most enticing odor. It was like nothing he had ever whiffed
before. It smelled as if it might be good, and he meant to find it.
A few days later the Ranger’s Boy, looking for human footprints along
the river bank, suddenly stopped to peer, for there—in an opening
between the trees—was the little bear performing the most amazing
antics. The strange part of it was that the usually alert cub didn’t
even notice that the Boy was there.
He had a brown jug in his forepaws, and first he lay down flat on his
stomach and took a long drink, then, after spilling some of it on the
ground, he sat back, leaning against a stump with his legs straight out
in front, as he tipped the jug with both paws. (The Boy could scarcely
keep from laughing aloud, but he kept tight hold on himself, for he
wanted to see more.)
When the jug seemed to have been emptied, the little bear attempted to
arise and walk on his hind feet, but to the Boy who had seen similar
human antics, it was plain that Chinook was intoxicated. He reeled from
side to side, barely able to keep his balance, and then he fell flat on
his back, still clinging to the jug, and, lying there with all fours in
the air, began hoisting it about with his hind feet. He would have made
a good circus clown, thought the Boy, for now he was turning
somersaults, and now he was on his hind legs circling around and around
with a joyous dancing step. It must have made him seasick, though we
will draw the veil. But it had given the Boy an idea.
“Father!” he announced that night, “I’ll bet I know where the smuggler
keeps his stuff!” and he related what he had seen that afternoon. Sure
enough, they found a cave next day into which the rum had been smuggled,
and, lying in wait, a few days later, they caught the smuggler. But
Chinook never knew why, on his return trip to the cave of tantalizing
odors, the jugs were all smashed and their contents gone.
[Illustration: He had the brown jug in his forepaws.]
“Never mind,” he thought, chasing a pine cone. “I’ll bet I can find
another bee tree.”