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.

Never mind, he thought, chasing a pine cone. I’ll bet I can find another bee tree.