Chapter IX

“Isn’t it ever going to be night?” inquired Maida fretfully, as they paused for a rest on top of a huge hill of snow.

“You forget,” replied the Candy Kid, “that up here the days are six months long. Why, it’s only half-past June.” So they went on again.

“Oh, I’m so cold and tired,” sighed Maida, rubbing her hands on the Bear’s furry coat to warm them. Jack-in-the-Box looked at her in surprise. “Cold?” he asked curiously. “What is cold?” “Oh, _you_ wouldn’t know,” replied Maida, and of course he wouldn’t for he was only a clock-work man. But her answer did not seem to satisfy him, for he scratched his head in a puzzled manner. “Tired, tired,” he repeated, “the word sounds familiar, but what does it mean?” Maida sighed again; it was so difficult to make Jack understand. “Why it means,” she explained, “you feel _so_ weary; you can hardly lift your arms, and your legs ache, and you don’t want to move.” “Oh, I know now,” interrupted Jack in great glee. “I often get that way. You’re run down. Where’s your key?--I’ll wind you up.” And she could hardly convince him that there wasn’t a key and that she didn’t need winding up.

By and by they came to a log hut. Smoke was coming from the chimney, a bright light shone through the window, and a most delicious smell filled the air; so they decided to take a nice long rest. Jack-in-the-Box knocked at the door. It swung open and a huge Man with a Bushy Beard stepped across the threshold. He looked like a very rough man and Maida felt a little afraid of him, but he paid no attention to her; he only stood stock still and stared at Jack-in-the-Box. Then he saw the Candy Kid and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. Maida saw he was afraid of Jack and the Candy Kid,--(for really they were unusual, you know, and enough to frighten a man, no matter how rough he was, and how bushy his beard)--so she decided to reassure him. “Fido,” she whispered,--(they all called the Bear “Fido” because he was so “cute”)--“Fido, you ask him to let us in.” So the Bear advanced bowing politely and in his own language spoke as nicely as he could. That is, he _started_ to speak. For no sooner did the Man with the Bushy Beard see Fido than he jumped back into the hut. Still bowing politely Fido followed him.

Then for a little while there was a great commotion in the hut. “Oh, they’ll hurt Fido,” screamed Maida in dismay, but before she could go to his aid, the door swung open again and the Man with the Bushy Beard popped out, followed by some more Men with Bushy Beards, and they all ran away as fast as they could.

“There must be something in there that frightened them,” whispered Jack, cowering close to the Candy Kid. “I wonder what it could have been,” was the Candy Kid’s reply. But when they finally plucked up courage and stole into the hut, there was nothing at all inside to alarm anybody--and dear gentle Fido sat calmly beside the fire warming his feet. They looked all through the hut, in every nook and cranny, but whatever had frightened the Men with the Bushy Beards was gone.

After awhile the Bear curled up in a corner and went to sleep (and really for such a nice Bear he snored dreadfully), while Maida began to explore the hut to see if she could find something for supper. Strange to say she felt a longing for a bowl of wheat and cream such as they always made her eat at home for breakfast. Her search was interrupted by the sound of loud and angry voices, and when she ran to the other end of the hut she was surprised to find the Candy Kid and Jack-in-the-Box having a most awful quarrel--and what was worse, it was a quarrel over some lady they both knew though she couldn’t tell who it was. Jack-in-the-Box was so angry all his machinery clicked and rattled, and all the sugar had been left out of the Candy Kid’s temper, for it was anything but sweet.

“You overgrown alarm clock,” he sneered at Jack, “I tell you she liked me best.”

“Oh, run down, run down,” snapped Jack angrily, “how could she prefer you? Why, you’re only a lump of glucose and some dye.” And they went on at a terrible rate saying all sorts of horrid things to each other, but Maida couldn’t find out who they were quarrelling about, and it made her feel just a teenty, weenty bit jealous to find there was some one besides herself they liked, and liked well enough to quarrel over. Finally the Candy Kid appealed to Maida for aid.

“Where you come from,” he asked, “when two people both like somebody else what are they?”

“Foolish,” was Maida’s prompt reply.

“No, no,” persisted the Candy Kid, “what do you call them?”

Maida puzzled a moment and let her mind run over some of the romantic stories she had read. “I know,” she said, “they are called rivals.”

“Then I’m a rival,” said the Candy Kid stoutly.

“So am I,” cried Jack. “Tell me--what do rivals do?”

Maida puzzled over this a moment. “Why, they take pistols or swords and fight a duel,” she said presently.

“Good,” replied the Candy Kid, “we’ll fight a duel, although I haven’t the faintest idea what a duel is, or how to fight it.” Then turning to Jack-in-the-Box he added, “have you a sword in your pocket?”

“Oh, no,” Jack answered quickly.

“Why are you so positive?” inquired the Candy Kid sulkily.

“Because,” Jack retorted, “I don’t know what a sword is, and I haven’t any pocket.”

“Pooh, that’s no reason,” complained the Candy Kid, and they were about to resume their quarrel when they were interrupted by Fido, who had been aroused by their noise and sat solemnly blinking his eyes. First he pointed to a picture on the wall. It was a picture of two men fighting with long swords, and Fido pointed to the picture and then to them, and then took the poker from the hearth and showed them just how a duel with swords must be fought. And I may say here it’s no use asking me how Fido knew all about duels--for I haven’t the faintest idea--all I can say is, he was a _very clever Bear_. They clearly understood by this time what they must do. But alas, they had no swords. At last Jack had a happy thought. He dashed out the door and returned with two long pointed icicles, nearly as hard as steel, and gave one to the Candy Kid. Maida was very much frightened and wanted to stop them, but they paid no heed to her tears. The Bear planted her in a chair by the fire and shook his paw at her, so she felt afraid to move. The Bear stood between Jack and the Candy Kid and said, “ovowoogkgk.” (That’s as near as I can come to spelling it as I haven’t quite enough letters to make it sound just right), and just as soon as he said it Jack-in-the-Box stuck his icicle right through the Candy Kid’s breast. Maida screamed with horror, but the Candy Kid laughed and said, “you tickle.” Then he ran his icicle into Jack’s breast, and Jack ran down. It took all three of them five minutes to get him properly wound again. Once more the rivals faced each other and the Bear gave the signal. But they both took bad aim, for instead of piercing each other, both of them stuck the Bear. That was the end of the duel. Fido was so vexed he broke both icicles. Then he took Jack and the Candy Kid over his knee and gave them a good spanking. After that it took them an hour to plug up the cavity in the Candy Kid’s chest with sugar, and to get the rust out of Jack’s cogs where the icicles had melted. And although poor Maida was very tired and sleepy she didn’t feel like going to bed, but sat by the fire revolving a question in her mind.

“I wonder,” she said to herself, “who it is they like enough to fight a duel over.”