Logan and Luke and the Mysterious Pine Cone People

Part 1

Logan Ashton Wiles got up from the big round rock on which he had been sitting and walked away from the lake toward the old man kneeling in a small vegetable garden under a very tall fir tree.

            His grandfather was intently weeding a short row of rutabaga plants, gripping each weed with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand and yanking it out of the moist earth.

            “Grandpa,” Logan said.  “I saw an Oolie Doolie today.”

            “Did you?” his grandfather said without looking up.  “Only one?”

            “No, there were…three,” Logan said.

            “What color were they?  Blue?  Red?  Or maybe a new colour no one has ever seen before?”

            “They were…,” Logan stopped.  “Grandpa, how come you always believe everything I say, even when I’m making it up?”

            Logan’s Grandpa Jim stopped pulling out rutabaga weeds and looked up.

            “You mean there were no Oolie Doolies?”

            “Grandpa, you know I was just kidding.”

            “Well,” Grandpa  Jim said, “people see all sorts of things.  I’ve found it’s best to believe them at first.  You can always stop believing them later if you want.”

            “Uncle Clark says that you should never believe people at first until you know that they are telling the truth.”

            “But Uncle Clark doesn’t like barbecued rutabagas with butter and brown sugar either.

In both cases, he doesn’t know what he is missing.  Let’s go up to the cabin.  I think it’s time for a lemonade break.”

            Logan’s Grandfather  took the little boy’s hand and they walked up the path of big flat rocks to the wide covered deck that looked out over Shuswap Lake.  They both sat down on the wicker sofa and Grandpa Jim poured two glasses of lemonade from the pitcher that Logan’s Grandma Judy had placed there.

            “There are lots of ways of looking at the world.  Some people see things that aren’t there.  Some people don’t see things that are there.   Some people see things that should be there, and some people don’t want to see anything.”

            “Uncle Clark says that people who see things that no one else can see are crazy.”

            “Hmmm, what do you suppose he would call people who can’t see what other people can see?”

            “Do you mean blind people?” Logan asked.

            “No, I mean people whose eyesight is fine, but who still don’t notice things that are right in front of them.”

            Logan took a small drink of his lemonade.

            “I think those people must be sad,” he said.  “It would make me unhappy not to be able to see things that are right there.”

            Logan’s Grandpa nodded and took a long sip of lemonade.  He had a slight smile on his face and his eyes twinkled in the sunlight that reflected off the lake.

            “Like the Pine Cone People,” he said softly.

            Logan looked up at him.

            “Who?” he asked.

            “The Pine Cone People.  You’ve seen them, haven’t you?”

            “No,” Logan said, his eyes quite wide.

            “You haven’t?”  Logan’s grandfather seemed surprised.

“No.  Where do they live?”

            Grandpa Jim sat back on the sofa and looked out over the lake.

            “Oh, well, the Pine Cone People, they live all around us here in the Shuswap.  Are you sure that you haven’t seen them in the woods?  They’re about this tall.”

            Grandpa Jim placed his hands one above the other indicating a size about the same as his glass of lemonade.

            “No,” said Logan.  “Never.  I’m sure I would remember that!”

            “You will have to look more carefully the next time you go for a walk.”

            “You’ve really seen them?  You’re not kidding?”

            “Oh, yes, I have seen them, caught glimpses of them scurrying away from me, heard them rolling through the hemlock needles or birch leaves.  They roll, by the way, wherever they want to go.”

            “Can they talk?”

            “My father, your great grandfather, said that they could, though I’ve only heard them very faintly.  Their voices are small and they are rather shy.  He’s the one who knew them the best.  When he was a logger in these woods.  He once spent a week with them.”

            “Wow!  That would be great!”

            “Not everyone believed him, of course, when he told them about it.”

            “Like Uncle Clark?”

            “Yes, like Uncle Clark.  But then, Uncle Clark never saw the pictures.”

            “There are pictures?”
            “Oh, yes.  Great Grandpa Rudy had his camera with him and took a number of photographs of the Pine Cone People and one of their villages.”

            “Well, then everyone should have believed him!”

            “He wouldn’t show the pictures to anyone who didn’t first believe his story.  ‘If they won’t take my word for it, the heck with them!’ he would say.”

            “Has Grandma seen the pictures?”

            “Oh, yes, Grandma Judith has seen them.”

            Logan took a drink of lemonade, thought for a second, and then looked up at his Grandfather.

            “Can I see the pictures?”

            “Well, I’m not sure.”

            “I know I’ll believe Great Grandpa Rudy’s story about them!  Even without the pictures!”

            Logan’s grandfather sat quietly for a moment and then suddenly got up.

            “All right, I believe you.  I’ll get the pictures.”

            Logan felt quite tingly.  The idea of seeing actual photographs of the Pine Cone People was exciting.  He drank more of his lemonade, letting a half melted ice cube slide into his mouth.  It was small enough so he could start to chew it, cracking it into smaller and smaller pieces.  The lake glistened and shimmered in front of him.  Off to his left he heard the high chattering of the squirrel that lived in the pine tree beside Grandpa’s tool shed.  He tried to imagine what the Pine Cone People looked like.  Did they have clothes?  Or hands?  Grandpa had said that they rolled to get somewhere, so they must not have legs.

            “Here they are,” Grandpa Jim said, startling Logan. 

            In his hand was a faded, yellow envelope that had a rubber band around it.  Logan reached out to take the envelope.

            “Not so fast,” his grandfather said, sitting back down on the sofa.  “I’m going to show these to you one at a time as I tell Great Grandpa Rudy’s story.  That way you will know what the pictures are about.”

            Logan sat back.  He wanted badly to see the pictures right away, but knew that seeing them one at a time would make the fun of seeing them last longer.

            “You see,” his grandfather began, “even though Grandpa Rudy was a great logger, one of the best to ever harvest trees in the Shuswap, even he sometimes ran into trouble.  One September, in about 1942, he was cruising the woods not far from here, just north of Marble Point, when he stepped off a log into a marmot hole and broke his ankle.”

            “That must have hurt a lot,” blurted Logan.

            “Oh, yes, it was very painful, and it made finding his way out of the woods very difficult.  Great Grandpa Rudy had to crawl and he had some very steep terrain to maneuver through and a number of creeks to try to cross, some of them with very steep banks.  For two days he crawled, trying to retrace his steps.  But finally, he had to admit to himself that he was lost.”

            “Did he have any food?” Logan asked, looking intently at his Grandfather.

            “Only a chocolate bar and pack of gum,” Grandpa Jim said, “and half a canteen of water.”

            “But there were creeks for the water,” Logan said hopefully, “weren’t there?”

            “Yes, but they were mostly dry.  Still, Great Grandpa Rudy filled his canteen with the silty water he came across.  Soon, however, the pain became almost unbearable.  He decided that he should stop crawling and remain in one place so that a search party could find him.  He rested his back against a fallen tree and ate the last tiny square of chocolate.”

            “Is this when he saw the Pine Cone People?” Logan asked, his eyes on the yellow envelope in his grandfather’s hand.

            “Oh, no.  For two more days he sat there against the log.  And as he sat, he began to notice that the woods were full of creatures he had never taken much notice of before.  Chipmunks and squirrels, robins and crows, nuthatches, marmots, tiny moles and quick little weasels.  A deer and two fawns came down the trail that he had made on his hands and knees; they sniffed the air tentatively as they came and paused when they saw him, but he didn’t move and so they all walked right by him, close enough for him to touch.”

            “No kidding?” Logan blurted.  “They were that close?”

            “That close.  But it was the insects that Great Grandpa Rudy began to notice the most.  By the fifth day he was watching them almost exclusively: ants, and moths, beetles of all kinds, flies and wasps, bees and dragonflies.  Everywhere he looked he saw insects, and he began to feel an affection for them that he had not felt before.”

            “He really liked them?” Logan asked in disbelief.

            “That’s what he told me.”

            “Even mosquitoes?”

            “He never actually mentioned them,” Grandpa Jim said, clearing his throat.  Then he continued.  “And then it happened…”

            “The Pine Cone People?”  Logan squirmed on the sofa.  He was dying to see the first picture.

            “Great Grandpa Rudy was looking up at the stars on the fifth night and suddenly heard a rustling in the bush beside him.  He turned his head and at first saw nothing.  Then, as he watched, some leaves rustled again and in the shadows was…a pine cone where none had been before.”

            “Did it have clothes on?” Logan asked excitedly.

            “But when he blinked, the pine cone was gone.”

            “Oh, no,” Logan squealed.

            “But then,” his grandfather continued, “he heard a dull plop and more rustling. 

Then another plop, and another, and then a forth plop and he saw what was making the noise: a pinecone had fallen right in front of him, and to his amazement it began to roll.  It rolled and rolled and then disappeared into a bush.  He looked up to see if he could tell where the pine cones were coming from, but it was too dark to tell.”

            “Did he try to catch one?” Logan asked.

            “It was too dark and the pine cones were much too quick,” his grandfather said.  “Yet, for the first time, Great Grandpa Rudy felt as though he was not alone.  He even stopped being afraid.”

            “You never said that he was afraid,” Logan abruptly said.

            “Well, he wasn’t terribly afraid,” Grandpa Jim quickly added.  “He just had that little bit of fear that anyone might have after being lost in the woods for six days.”

            “Five,” Logan corrected.

            “I’ve skipped ahead,” said his grandfather, “to day six…because on that day, he heard the voices for the first time…high, thin little voices, so soft that they were almost impossible to hear over the gentle rustling of the wind in the branches, or the quiet whisper of the insects in the forest all around.”

            “What did they say?”

            “That was what was so awful.  Those sweet, tiny voices, so soft and angelic said: ‘No one is coming!’ and ‘No one knows you are here!’”

            “That’s terrible!”

            “Great Grandpa Rudy thought so too.  Even though it was dark and he was lost, he began to try to crawl again, to get away.  He panicked.  He told me that he crawled for an hour until he was too exhausted and in too much pain to crawl any more.  Finally he collapsed and fell asleep.  When he awoke the next day he discovered that he was in a tiny clearing, and that all around him were…”

            “The Pine Cone People!” Logan exclaimed.

            “Yes, the Pine Cone People.  Through his tired and bleary eyes he could make them out, standing in small groups or by themselves, on stumps and branches, leaning against logs or squatting on stones, dozens of Pine Cone People.  And they were all smiling.”

            “Can I see them?” Logan asked, standing up in excitement.

            “In a minute.  Finally one of the Pine cone people stepped forward.  ‘My name,’ he said oh so softly, ‘ is Andipini.’  My father was amazed.  He could see that the Pine Cone Person had little bright eyes and a tiny smile, and that he was dressed in delicate clothes that at first had seemed to be just moss and cobwebs, leaves and bark.”

            “I thought they would have clothes!” Logan said happily.

            “That’s when Great Grandpa Rudy automatically reached for the camera that he kept in his wool jacket pocket.  He used it to take photographs of stands of trees that he chose to be logged.”

            “They didn’t mind having their pictures taken?” Logan asked.

            “Great Grandpa said that they just smiled.  This is Andipine, their leader.”

            Out of the yellow envelope, Logan’s grandfather pulled an old photograph.  In it Logan could see a central figure that looked very much like a pine cone, but with a face and clothes just as his great grandfather had described!

            “Over the next few days,” Grandpa Jim continued, “the Pine Cone People reminded your great grandfather of many things that he had forgotten from his days on a homestead in the East Kootenay Mountains.  Pinella showed him what plants and mushrooms that he could eat just as his own father had, and told him that chewing the bark of the aspen tree could help reduce the pain and swelling of his ankle.  Then Pinedna even gathered some seeds for him and a handful of berries and rolled down to a tiny spring in the hillside close to the clearing where he could find handfuls of water that was not silty  but clear and cold. And when he was feeling very tired and sad and sure that no one would ever find him, little Pinallen would whisper stories in his ear about being a child in the woods and the fun he had had as a boy. 

            “Finally, after six more days, he awoke to find that the Pine Cone People had left him.  He called out, filled with despair and was answered by the voices of his tiny friends who whispered in the wind that he was saved.  And as their voices faded, other voices became louder and louder, voices of men, familiar voices that called his name.  He called out himself, only to discover that his own voice was hardly more than a weak and barely understandable croak.”

            “Was he rescued?” Logan asked, a look of fear in his eye.

            Grandpa Jim smiled.

            “Oh, yes.  His logging friends found him finally after almost two weeks of searching.  Your great grandfather was very weak and near death.  In fact they said that it was a miracle he had survived for so long with so little.

            “The Pine Cone People saved him,” Logan said.

            “Indeed.  He knew that.  Oddly enough, after he was sent to a hospital to recover, he forgot about those tiny saviours for a while.  Then when he remembered, he thought perhaps they had been a dream.’

            “But the pictures…!” Logan exclaimed. 

            “Yes, the pictures.  Your Great Grandfather remembered the pictures and took the film to have it developed.  Only when he saw the results did he then start telling others about the wonderful and generous Pine Cone People.”

            “And even then some doubted what he said?” Logan asked.

            “Even then.”

            Logan held the pictures in his hands and looked at them one after the other, back and forth, over and over.  He saw the faces and eyes, the wistful smiles, the gentle looks, the kindness and generosity in each Pine Cone Person.

            “I’m going to look for them,” he said with determination.

            “I think you should,” his grandfather said.

            “And I’ll take a camera, too.” 

            Logan paused for a moment and then looked up at his grandfather.

            “Great Grandpa Rudy never had a chance to thank them, did he?” he asked. 

            “No,” Grandpa Jim said.  “He never did.”
            Logan looked back at the pictures.

            “I’ll thank them for him,” he said.

            “Your great grandfather would have liked that.  Come on, you can help me finish weeding the rutabagas.”

            With that Logan handed the faded photographs back to his grandfather, and the two of them walked down the steps into the little garden.

            “Thanks for letting me see the pictures of the Pine Cone People,” Logan said.

            “Thanks for being able to see them,” his grandfather said.

Part 2

            Logan Ashton Wiles was sitting in the middle of his bed.  His bedroom door was closed so that his younger brother, Luke, couldn’t see what he was doing. Neatly arranged around him were all of the important things he would need for his journey into the woods to find the Pine Cone People. On his left was his blue nylon knapsack into which everything would be packed.  Next to that was a medium-size bottle of water and four candy bars for energy in case the journey lasted for more than a day.  Beside those were a Spiderman comic book and a road map of British Columbia Grandpa Jim kept in the magazine rack beside his favorite chair.  Logan had borrowed it to take with him tomorrow in case he got lost.  In front of him were his clothes: two pairs of underwear and two pairs of socks, his brown shorts with the big pockets, a white tee shirt with a picture of a tyrannosaurus rex on the front and his hooded waterproof nylon jacket in case it rained.  On the right were the most important things: the big flashlight from the junk drawer, his Disneyland watch with the built in compass that his mom and dad had bought him for his birthday, a large piece of clear plastic he had found in the tool shed in case he needed to make an overnight shelter, and, of course, the disposable camera with built in flash he had bought with his allowance at the drug store in Sicamous.  There was one more thing.  Logan felt the pocket of his pajamas to make sure it was still there.  It was.  A year ago Grandpa Jim had given him a small pocket knife with two blades and a can opener that Great Grandpa Rudy had given him.  The reddish-brown wooden sides of the knife were worn smooth and shiny, and the blades had been resharpened many times.

“I’m not sure your mother would approve,” Grandpa had told him.  “She might think that you are too young to have a knife of your own.  Still, you are old enough to start having your own adventures pretty soon, and that is what this is for: special adventures.”

            Logan guessed that finding the Pine Cone People was special enough.

            Satisfied that everything was ready for tomorrow, Logan lay down on his bed and looked up at the ceiling.  His Grandpa had taped a big star map there.  At night, the stars glowed in the dark just like the real sky.  Logan reached up and turned off the propane light on the wall above the headboard of his bed.  Darkness filled the room except for the tiny points of light above him.  He knew the names of the biggest stars like Sirius and Betelgeuse, and the constellations Orion, Cassiopeia and Ursa Major, the big dipper.  He tried to name all the stars he knew.  Tomorrow he might be looking up at them for real, surrounded by the Pine Cone People.  Logan thought of the pictures his grandfather had shown him of those tiny people with the bright eyes and soft voices.  He knew that he would find them, wherever they were.  Luke would be jealous, of course, but Logan thought to himself as he fell asleep, this was far too dangerous an adventure for little kids.

Logan blinked several times.  The sun was shining brightly through his bedroom window right into his eyes.  He could not remember that ever happening before.  He picked up his watch lying beside him and looked at the time: 6:30.  He had hoped to be on his way by 6:00.  He quietly packed all his important belongings into his knapsack, then put on his shorts, tee shirt and runners.  He was about to walk out of his room when he remembered the special pocket knife; he hurried back to the bed and felt for it in the pocket of his pajamas.  It was there.  He took it out of the pocket and looked at it briefly, turning it over in his hand.  He smiled, placed it in the right hand pocket of his shorts and walked quietly toward the back door of the cabin.  In his hand he had the note that he had written for his grandfather the night before.  He put it on the kitchen table and then put his grandpa’s favorite coffee mug on it to make sure he and Grandma Judy would see it when they got up. 

            The note said:

” Dear Grandma and Grandpa,

I have gone to find the Pine Cone People in the woods so I can thank them for saving Great Grandpa Rudy.  I will be gone for a few days, no more than a week I think.  I have chocolate bars and water and Great Grandpa’s knife so I will be fine.  And I have lots of clothes too even if it rains.  Don’t worry about me though I know you will anyway and better not tell Mom or Dad because they will want to make me come right home.

           

Love,

            Your grandson,

            Logan"

           

Logan was about to tiptoe out the back door when a loud voice made him freeze in his tracks.

“Where are you going?”

Logan turned to see his brother standing by the refrigerator in his Batman pajamas.

“Shhhhh!” Logan whispered, a little too loudly.  “It’s none of your business!”

“I want to go, too,” Luke said stubbornly.

“You don’t even know where I’m going!” Logan said.

“Take me with or I’ll tell!” Luke said.

Logan didn’t know what he should do, but knew that if Grandpa and Grandma found out what he was doing, they would probably not let him go.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “Get dressed and come on, but I’m leaving in one minute even if you aren’t ready.”

It only took Luke about thirty seconds to take off his pajamas and put on his shorts and a tee shirt.

“Get your back pack,” Logan ordered. “We’re going to be gone for two days at least.”

“Wow! Great!” Luke said. “I’ll get some food!”

He went to the cupboard and pulled out the box of Fruit Loops and the box of Granola bars that were there.

“What about drinks?” he asked.

“I’ve got mine,” Logan answered.  “You have to get your own.”

Luke opened the refrigerator and took out a large plastic bottle of ginger ale and foursmall boxes of juice.

“Take a jacket, too,” Logan ordered.  “It may be cold in the mountains.”

“Is that where we’re going?” Luke asked.

“I’ll tell you when we’re outside.”

Logan and Luke slipped quietly out the back door, hoisted their knapsacks onto their shoulders and began their adventure.  The steep hillside behind the cabin was made up of large, moss covered rocks and huge trees that stretched up high into the morning sunlight.  Logan began to climb carefully, making sure that he didn’t fall, with Luke scrambling behind him. He had been up the little path to the water tank that supplied water to the cabin several times with his grandfather.  The tank was filled by a black plastic pipe that ran even further up the hillside to a spring.  He had helped his grandfather clear silt from in front of the pipe and repair broken sections with round clamps and special pieces his grandfather called “fittings.” 

            After a few minutes of climbing, the boys were standing beside the big square tank.  The path continued up the hillside, following the pipe to the spring.  Logan turned and looked back down.  Below him he could see the green, metal roof of the cabin through the trees and the blue shimmering water of Shuswap Lake.  Logan knew that once they left the water tank and continued up the trail they would lose sight of both the cabin and the lake and be truly on their own in the woods.  There were bears there, he knew, and even cougars.  His grandfather had told him about seeing a cougar once right where Logan was standing, and Logan himself had seen a mother bear and cubs walking along the beach.  Still, the Pine Cone People needed to be thanked and finding them would be worth the tingle of fear that Logan felt deep in his stomach.  And besides, he had faith that the Pine Cone People would help him and keep him safe if he needed them, just as they had done for his Great Grandpa Rudy.  What had Grandpa Jim said?  “They’re all around us here in the Shuswap.”

            He was about to start up the path when he remembered his phone. He had told himself that he would record the entire adventure with the camera in his phone, and, since this was the real start of it, Logan took the phone out of the big front pocket of his shorts, turned and snapped a picture of the water tank and cabin roof.

            “Hey, take a picture of me!” Luke said loudly, standing on a tree stump.

            “Okay, okay,” Logan said and took a picture of Luke.

            Luke jumped off the stump and began to bounce up and down.

            “Which way do we go? Which way do we go?” he asked excitedly.

            In truth, there was only one way to go.  The trail continued up the hillside into the woods.

            “Just follow me,” Logan said, “and don’t forget that I am the leader.”

            “Why can’t I be the leader?” Luke asked.

            “Because I’m older,” Logan said.

“I’ll be older soon,” Luke said.

“You can’t ever be older than I am,” Logan responded sharply.

“I can when I’m a hundred!” Luke said sharply.

“When you’re a hundred, I’ll be a hundred and two,” Logan answered wearily.

“Not if you get eaten by a bear!” Luke said, laughing.  “So ha, ha!”

Logan knew he shouldn’t have let Luke come with; Luke was just too silly for a serious adventure.

“It’ll eat you first!” Logan shot back.  Then he turned his back on Shuswap Lake and headed up the trail.  Despite having to put up with Luke’s foolishness, he felt warm and happy, as though…well, he couldn’t help feeling that someone was looking out for him already.

Part 3

After what seemed a long time climbing up the trail, the boys came to a level spot that led them to a broad meadow. The sun was shining down on the meadow with bright, yellow light; dragonflies hovered and darted back and forth between red and blue flowers that grew in bunches between the old tree stumps that dotted the open space, and in the background Logan and Luke could hear the low buzzing of bees seeking pollen in the blossoms of the flowers.  Beyond the meadow, the hillside rose up again very high and steep.  Logan decided that he would have to go there in order to find the Pinecone People.  They would be among the pine trees after all, not in the middle of a clearing.

“Come on, Luke,” he said, “we have to cross the meadow to the trail on the other side.”

Luke was busy chasing a yellow and blue butterfly.

“Just a minute!” he yelled.  “I want to catch this butterfly.”

“Luke, we can’t waste time,” Logan said.  “It will be dark soon.”

“Okay, okay,” Luke said, “but you’re no fun!”

The boys were about half way across the meadow when Logan heard a noise behind him.  It was sort of like a low snort combined with a deep woof, like a large dog would make.  He turned his head and was surprised to see the large brown back and head of a bear in the clearing behind him.  The bear was tearing at one of the stumps and was paying no attention to Logan.

“He’s looking for something to eat,” Logan said to himself.  “Perhaps he won’t notice us.”

Logan tapped Luke on the shoulder and then put his finger to his lips and pointed back over his shoulder.  Luke’s eyes grew wide as he turned around and saw the bear.

Both boys crouched down and begin to move across the clearing backwards, their eyes on the bear.  They had almost made it to the other side when Logan stumbled backwards over a stump and fell down, right on top of his knapsack.  The big flashlight he was carrying in the knapsack dug painfully into his shoulder blade.  Before he could stop himself he yelled, “Ow!” 

Immediately, Logan knew he had made a mistake and, sure enough, when he had scrambled to his knees, he saw that the bear was now on his back legs looking straight at them.

           The bear sniffed the air, dropped back down onto four legs and slowly began to walk toward the boys.

“Let’s get out of here!” Luke whispered.

“Just wait!” Logan whispered back.

            In truth, Logan didn’t know whether they should try to crouch out of sight and remain still, or leap up and run for the trees.  He remembered that Grandpa Jim had told him bears could outrun even horses for a short distance.  He decided they should stay where they were; maybe the bear would go away.

“If we run he will chase us.  I don’t think he has seen us yet.  Bears have very poor eyesight.”

“They also have very big teeth!” Luke said nervously.

           The boys lay face down in the grass and covered their eyes.  Logan could smell the dark, musty earth below his chin and the rich, fresh grass.  He tried as hard as he could to listen for the sound of the bear, but could hear nothing but the buzzing of bees.

            “Please, go away,” he whispered quietly to himself.  “Please, please, go away.”

For what seemed the longest time, they lay there, straining to hear but hoping not to hear anything.  After what seemed like many minutes, Logan slowly raised his head.  In front of him he could see nothing but grass and flowers and the little pond.  To his right, Luke still had his head down, his face buried in the grass. The bear was gone, Logan thought.  It had gone away!  Then to his right he heard the same snorting woof he had heard before.   He turned his head and saw the bear off to the side only a few metres away.  The big animal was so close that Logan could smell him; he smelled like a cross between a wet dog and a skunk.  Now Logan was frightened, so frightened that he couldn’t move at all.  He couldn’t even lower his head and hide.  He just watched the bear, petrified that the big creature would see him, yet unable to take his eyes off of him.

The bear stopped again, raised himself up on his hind legs and sniffed the air.  His huge head moved slowly from side to side.  With his big black nostrils quivering at each sniff, he ever so slowly turned his head toward the motionless boys.  Suddenly Logan found himself staring straight at the animal’s snout. The bears eyes narrowed slightly.  He kept them locked on Logan as dropped back down onto all four paws and slowly lumbered toward them.

Now Logan was completely terrified.  He wanted to leap up and run, but couldn’t move.

He wished that he had never gone on this adventure.  He started to shiver and talk to himself.

            “Pick me up,” he said to himself.  “Pick me up and throw me!”

            What was he saying?  He was talking nonsense!  He must be crazy with fear, he thought.

            “Pick me up and throw me!” he heard again.  “At that tree!”

            It must be Luke talking.

            What? Logan thought.  What was he saying?  Pick me up and throw me?  Why would he be saying that?

“Luke, be quiet!  The bear’s coming!”

“You be quiet!  I’m not talking!” Luke whispered back.

            The bear was now almost beside them, so close that Logan could hear its breathing and see flies buzzing around his ears.

            “Quick! Jump up and throw me at that tree!  There’s a bee hive there!”

            Suddenly Logan realized that Luke hadn’t been speaking at all.  The voice was coming from beside his left knee.  He looked down and saw…a big pine cone on the ground. 

“Yes, I’m talking to you,” the pine cone said. 

Logan was amazed!  The pine cone had a little mouth and two tiny, bright eyes!

“Pick me up and throw me at that tree!” it said.

            “It’s too far away,” Logan answered staring at the pine cone.  He remembered throwing a baseball with his dad and trying to throw as far as he could.  The baseball had only gone about half the distance he was from the closest tree.  “I can’t throw that far.”

            “Don’t worry,” said the voice.  “If you throw me, I will make it to the tree and strike that big bee hive in it. Hurry!”

            Logan looked up.  The bear was now only three metres away; his mouth was slightly open and Logan could see a half dozen of his big teeth.  Still, he hesitated.  Pine cones can’t talk!

“Oh, for Pete’s sake!  Do as it says!” Luke said loudly as he jumped up, picked up the pine cone and threw it as hard as he could toward the nearest tree.

            Luke’s sudden movement startled the bear.  The huge animal stopped in his tracks, and stared at Luke, his eyes wide.

            Logan followed the flight of the pine cone.  It flew straight and true toward the bee hive, whistling slightly through the air.  It smacked the hive and then  bounced up onto a big branch just where it perched like a wooden pigeon.

            Instantly a thick stream of bees began to emerge from the hive, swirling and gathering into a small dark cloud that hummed and buzzed louder and louder.  As the boys watched the cloud began to move toward them and the bear, slowly at first and then faster and faster until its shape was like a stretched-out tornado.  Logan was about to yell out in panic when the bee tornado swerved and slammed right into the big bear, surprising him and sending him tumbling backwards.  Bewildered and annoyed, the bear began to swat at the bees which now seemed to be swarming all over him.  Logan had read that bears can only be stung on the nose because their thick fur protects them everywhere else.  Sure enough, the bear tried to swipe the bees away from his nose.  Startled now, and with all thoughts of Logan and Luke out of its mind, the bear began to lumber away, picking up speed as it dodged first to the right, then the left, zigzagging across the clearing, all the while trailing a stream of angry bees.

            Logan and Luke watched until the bear was out of sight, then turned back toward the pine cone that had saved them.  Logan picked up the flashlight and Spiderman comic which had fallen out of his knapsack when he had stumbled backwards.  Then both boys headed toward the tree in which the pine cone sat perched.

            “Boy, you sure saved us,” Luke said as soon as he was close enough for the pine cone to hear.

            The pine cone did not respond.

            “I said, ‘You sure saved me,’” Luke repeated, a little more loudly than before. 

Logan wasn’t sure how good the hearing of pine cones was, though he thought it must be pretty good because they speak in such soft, sweet voices.

Still, the pine cone did not reply.

Logan looked closely up at it perched on the branch above the bee hive.  He couldn’t see the eyes.

“Hey,” he said, “have you fallen asleep?”

The pine cone didn’t move.

“Look, we’re afraid to stay around here too long in case the bees come back soon.  Can’t you say something?”

When the pine cone still failed to reply, Logan began to wonder if perhaps he had imagined the whole thing.  He knew from books that sometimes people who are really frightened can behave in odd ways.  Maybe he had imagined the pine cone person out of fear.  Then he remembered that the Pine Cone People only make themselves known if someone is in danger.  He wasn’t in danger any more.  Maybe that’s why the pine cone person was silent.

“Mr. Cone,” Logan began, “I know that you only help people who are in danger, but in a way this is all related.  See, I came up here to thank your whole village or…or group, or your people…anyway, all of you for saving my Great Grandpa Rudy years ago and..”

Suddenly the little spiny figure perched on the branch came alive.  In fact, he almost tumbled off the branch.

“Did you say: ‘Ru-dee’?” he asked, his tiny bright eyes blazing down at the boys.

“Yes,” Logan answered, somewhat surprised.

“He’ our great grandfather,” Luke added eagerly.

“Catch me!” said the pine cone, and he toppled right off  the branch.

Logan and Luke both quickly extended their arms. The pine cone landed exactly in the middle of Luke’s outstretched hands.

“Why didn’t you say so?” said the pine cone, looking up from Luke’s cupped hands.

For the first time Logan noticed that the pine cone appeared to be decorated with a variety of strands of moss and strips of bark.  They were wrapped around him in a colourful pattern.

“Well…,” Logan began.

"He saved us all," the tiny voice continued.  “Ru-dee is a hero of the Pine Cove People.  Come on.  I’ll show you.  Walk past that big fir tree there.”

“Which one is the fir tree?”

“That one on the left.  That’s right, now go down the little path.  Don’t drop me!”

With great care and concentration, Luke and Logan followed the directions given to them by the pine cone.  It involved many turns and twists, and though they may not actually have gone terribly far at all, it seemed to Logan that they were in the middle of a most intricate and complicated maze:  a confusing combination of right turns and left turns and hidden crawl spaces in tangles of branches and vines, tree trunks and bushes.

I hope, he thought to himself, that I can find my way home again.

(To be continued)