Well, it does make one feel bad to have playmates run away like that,
and Maida was heartbroken. She could see the three capering over the
ice and snow far, far away, having, oh such a good time, and the Bear
seemed so friendly and polite she had lost all fear of him. Just then
she heard a tinkling of bells and looked outside the window to see what
caused it. There was a sledge drawn by some beautiful Eskimo dogs,
moving along and going in the direction taken by the friends. She gave
no thought to Santa Claus, or the Disconsolate Lover, or the Man with
the Growly Voice, or even Billy, but rushed out of the door and leaped
on the sledge which was slowly moving away. “Hurry,” she gasped,
“hurry, or they’ll get away.”
To her joy she found the little Eskimo girl, Kokomo, was the only
passenger, and Kankakee, her father, was driving the dogs. Kokomo
turned and smiled at her, saying something that sounded very much
like “muk-a-luk-a-chuk-a-grwokzbski.” (That last word is a terrible
thing, isn’t it? It’s very hard to spell, and I haven’t an idea how it
sounds;--it must be a very hard word, but Kokomo said it, so I have to
put it in.)
Faster and faster they flew till they were going like the wind. Behind
them were some more people, on sledges drawn by dogs, but Maida
didn’t care who they were or where they were going. All she thought
of was finding the Jack-in-the-Box and the Candy Kid. “Suppose,” she
moaned to Kokomo, “suppose he should get lost and should run down.”
“Blik-a-tik-a-zik-a-rikow-bik ski,” said Kokomo sadly. (Isn’t it
awful, the way those Eskimos talk? And I don’t see how they ever learn
to spell.)
It seemed an age to Maida, and it must have been several hours before
she saw her two friends. They were standing in the midst of a field
of ice, and poor Jack-in-the-Box hung limp and dejected on a block of
ice, while the Candy Kid seemed to be trying to help him. She could see
nothing of the Bear. “Stop, stop!” she called to Kankakee; but either
he did not hear or he was in too great a hurry, for he only snapped
his long dog whip and howled “Mush!” to the dogs. When an Eskimo says
“Mush” to his dogs, he means what you mean when you say, “Get up!” to
pony. Well, Maida couldn’t bear to see her friends left alone, so she
rolled off the sledge into a soft snow-bank, and it didn’t hurt her a
bit. Then while she was picking herself up and digging the snow out
of her eyes, all the sledges rushed by her without stopping. She ran
quickly to the Candy Kid. “Oh, dear, dear,” she sobbed, “what is the
matter with him?” “He’s run down,” replied the Candy Kid. “Well, why
don’t you wind him up?” retorted Maida angrily, stamping her foot.
“Can’t do it,” said the Candy Kid, “we’ve lost the key.” Then overcome
by his feelings the Candy Kid sat down and began to cry at the top
of his voice. Which was perfectly natural. A huge white mound, which
Maida had mistaken for a snow-bank, reared up beside the Candy Kid,
and Maida stepped back in surprise. It was the Bear. Maida was very
uneasy. He hadn’t eaten the Candy Kid. Well, perhaps he didn’t care
for sweets, and of course he couldn’t eat an overgrown alarm-clock
like Jack-in-the-Box, but she had heard that bears like little girls
as well as little girls like chocolate creams, and she felt a strong
desire to run. But the Bear didn’t attack her. No indeed, he wasn’t
that kind of a Bear. He laid his head on the shoulder of the Candy Kid
and lifted up his voice and wept, which was very nice of him. Maida
was so overcome by his grief she ran to him and wiped his eyes with
her handkerchief. Then they all had a good cry together. At last the
Bear put his arm about Maida (I call it his arm, though it was really
his foreleg), and patted her on the shoulder. So she felt better, and
stopped crying.
“By the way,” said Maida to the Candy Kid, “I’ve never been properly
introduced to the Bear. Do you mind making us acquainted?”
So the Candy Kid presented the Bear, who made a lovely bow,--really,
for a Polar Bear who had never been in any sort of society, he was
very, very polite.
And then Maida found the key. Wasn’t that lovely? Ah, I tell you, it
didn’t take her long to wind up Jack-in-the-Box, and how the four of
them did laugh and cry and dance about, all through pure happiness.
“This habit of mine is very distressing,” observed Jack-in-the-Box to
Maida. “Did you ever start to talk or go somewhere and all of a sudden
feel your mainspring give out and your wheels stop turning?”
“No, I never did,” replied Maida, “but it must be--dreadful.”
“And now, what are we going to do?” said the Candy Kid.
“I’m afraid I’ll never find the Wishing Post,” sighed Maida.
Then the Bear began to talk. If you think Eskimo talk is hard to
understand, you should have heard the Bear. It sounded like the roaring
of thunder and the rattle of chains, but little by little they
understood him, for he waved his paws, and pointed to the North, and
wagged his head; so finally they understood he would take them to the
Wishing Post. Maida climbed on his back, which pleased him mightily.
The other two followed them, and they set out again, the merriest
little party you ever saw, on their way to the Top of the World.