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.”