I didn't wonder Frosty called King's Highway "bad medicine." It certainly
did look like it.

I went softly along that trail, turning sharp corners around a shed here,
circling a corral there, with my hand within an inch of my gun, and my
heart within an inch of my teeth, and you may laugh all you like.

No one seemed to be about; the sheds were deserted, and a few horses dozed
in a corral that I passed; but human being I saw none. It was evident that
King did not consider his enemy worth watching. I passed the last shed and
found myself headed straight for the house; I had still to get through its
very dooryard before I was in any position to crow, and beyond the house
was another fence; I hoped the gate was not locked. Shylock pricked up
his ears, then laid them back along his neck as if he did not approve the
layout, either. But we ambled right along, like a deacon headed for
prayer-meeting, and I tried to look in four different directions at one
and the same time.

For that reason, I didn't see her till she stood right in front of me; and
when I did, I stared like an idiot. It was a girl, and she was coming down
a path to the trail, with her hands full of flowers, for all the world
like a Duchess novel. Another minute, and I'd have run over her, I guess.
She stopped and looked at me from under lashes so thick and heavy they
seemed almost pulling her lids shut, and there was something in her eyes
that made me go hot and cold, like I was coming down with grippe; when she
spoke my symptoms grew worse.

"Did you wish to see father?" she asked, as if she were telling me to
leave the place.