"Bed Heads and Beagle Care."
There's nothing like a lake at dawn for peace, quiet and reflection.
What seems to be the trouble, Snoopy?
Trying to decide which badge your troop should earn next?
Let me have a look.
Here's one. "The Beagle Care badge.
Show your best beagle love and attention with the pampering they deserve."
Now, back to my peace and quie--
Don't mind me, Charles.
Just squeezing in a little early morning practice.
Good grief.
Morning. I slept like a baby last night.
That's the unmistakable cry of someone with a bad case of camp hair.
This is one of the most pronounced cases I've ever seen.
I can't stand it! It's bad enough we have no TV out here. Now this?
I really don't think it's that bad.
But if it will make you feel better, I'll brush it out for you.
Is it working?
"The first and most important aspect of beagle care
is making sure your four-legged friend is properly fed."
"Remember, a well-fed beagle is a happy beagle."
For camp hair like this, you need to blow-dry it out.
Hit it.
We need more power!
More power!
It only has two settings!
Well, is it any better?
Let's focus on the positives.
It's not any worse.
"Beagle care is about ensuring that your canine companion
is relaxed and happy."
"Grooming is crucial.
This includes hair and coat maintenance...
nail care...
and, of course, toothbrushing."
"But no aspect of beagle care is
more important than a nice sudsy bath,
every dog's favorite."
Have you tried using a different brush?
Have you tried cold?
Have you tried heat?
Why don't you go jump in the lake?
I believe that was a sincere suggestion.
That's actually a really good idea.
Thank you, my Sweet Babboo.
I'm not her Sweet Babboo.
Goodbye, camp hair!
What do you mean, the water's too rough for swimming?
Even nature is conspiring against me.
I couldn't help notice your dilemma, Sally.
If you'll join me in the rec cabin, I may have a solution.
I found this costume trunk from camp skit night.
Maybe there's something in here that can help.
Try this.
Very dignified.
Objection sustained.
Try this one.
I worry this sets an unrealistic expectation that I'll be funny.
Maybe a wig isn't the answer.
I feel like I should be going to a rodeo in this thing.
It's hopeless.
Hiding out too, eh, Snoopy?
I thought I might find you out here. How are you?
How do you think?
I still don't see why it's a big deal.
You have camp hair. So what?
We only get so many days at camp.
It's a shame to hide out here worrying about something like that.
Easy for you to say. You're not the one with camp hair.
True. But maybe you should take a look at this.
Camp hair, meet hat hair.
It's okay to laugh. I don't mind.
Now, how about we get out of here and start enjoying the day?
Uh-oh.
"Can You Be A Beagle Scout? Navigating In Nature.
To be a Beagle Scout, you must become a master pathfinder.
That means relying on the environment to find your way."
Where's your map?
How do you know where we're going without a map?
"One way to get your bearings is to climb to a higher vantage point."
Wouldn't you prefer something a little taller?
"Even the wind can guide you."
Finally, a break. I'm parched.
Hey!
"When all else fails,
you can create your own compass with some water,
a leaf and a steel needle."
You have to magnetize the needle.
"When you're a Beagle Scout, always remember to use your head
and sometimes your nose.
You're bound to find exactly what you're looking for."
Snoopy, we've misjudged you.
Maybe it's buried treasure.
Looks like the great scout leader and his troops
are searching for a place to plant their flag.
You ever wonder what it would be like to have a dog that did normal stuff,
like sit and roll over?
Constantly.
"The Great Gold Rush."
Yes! It's the annual gold rush scavenger hunt.
What's that?
The counselors hide gold-painted rocks around camp.
We hunt for them, and the team that finds the most, wins.
Like an Easter egg hunt?
Easter egg hunts don't have a winner, Sally.
Spoken like someone who has never won one.
Stick with me, Linus,
and I'll get you all the gold you could ever want.
I have a foolproof system for finding the most gold.
Me too. See gold, pick it up.
Marcie, I still can't believe you're going to sit this out.
I'll be fine. I actually have a book on the Klondike
I've been looking forward to reading.
The what now?
The Klondike, sir.
The famous 1890s gold rush in the Alaskan and Yukon Panhandle.
Panhandle?
I don't know what cooking utensils have to do with anything.
"Few would have guessed that those first few pieces of gold
discovered in the Klondike
would soon give rise to a mania that would grip the imaginations
of tens of thousands of would-be prospectors."
Fascinating.
I don't think you'll find gold on a piece of paper.
It's a map of the camp and the surrounding area.
I've divided it into a grid.
We'll search square-by-square and cross off as we go.
That sounds suspiciously like homework.
I feel compelled to point out that it's the gold rush,
not the gold take-your-time.
Relax.
I already know where all the gold is going to be.
Every year, the counselors hide it in the same places:
A hollowed-out tree or under a suspicious bunch of sticks.
That almost sounds like cheating.
I prefer to think of it as being ahead of the game.
So, are the eggs all chocolate, or are there jelly beans too?
Do they have the chocolates with the creamy center? I love those.
Sally, I told you this isn't an Easter egg hunt.
We're looking for gold.
Like those chocolate coins wrapped in gold foil.
I love those too.
"As soon as word spread that there was gold to be found
in the wilderness of the Northwest,
treasure seekers from across the continent
drew up plans to seek their fortunes."
Here we go. Hiding spot number one: Old reliable.
What? What is it?
The counselors must have switched it up.
How dare they make this search an actual challenge?
"The sight of others striking it rich
filled the hearts of onlookers with envy.
This was the beginning of what came to be known as 'gold fever.'"
So far, this system of yours doesn't seem to be working.
I disagree. It's showing us all the places the gold isn't.
I can tell you where it isn't: Our hands.
Okay. I think I have this all figured out now.
Is the idea that we trade the gold rocks for chocolates?
Good grief.
I know chocolate has to be a part of this equation somehow.
All right. What's going on here?
I demand answers. I demand an explanation.
You don't just hide gold in the same spots for years and then switch it up.
Where's the sport in that?
Isn't it actually more sporting if--
Less talking, more searching.
Try that thorny-looking bush over there.
These thorns are everywhere.
"Gold fever seized the mind and overpowered the imagination."
"Soon, friends turned on friends, neighbors on neighbors.
A tragic and angry state of affairs."
We haven't found anything.
Same.
I can't believe my system failed.
If it's any consolation, I always believed your system would fail.
I'm just glad it's over.
"While some did prosper,
the true story of the gold rush was one of frustration and folly,
of dreams unfulfilled, of friendships tested and hands left empty."
I can't believe it.
Marcie won the scavenger hunt.
I did?
Maybe life's answers really are in books.
That may be true, but I don't feel right keeping the rocks.
Maybe we can all split first prize?
What is first prize anyway?
I believe it's a ribbon.
A ribbon?
- You can't share that. - I'd rather have the rocks.
This is the worst Easter egg hunt ever.