This aroused the curiosity of Kankakee, who called Oshkosh and awkwardly kissed him; but as Oshkosh was seventy years old, very ugly, and extremely wrinkled, the result of the experiment was far from pleasing; so Kankakee grunted his disapproval and arranged the line of march. There was quite a procession when the caravan was complete. First came twenty Eskimos on snowshoes. Then ten sledges drawn by dog teams (on one of which rode Kokomo and the Man with the Growly Voice). These were followed by Fido, still bearing Maida on his back, escorted by the faithful Jack and the Candy Kid. Santa Claus was close behind with his reindeer sleigh in which rode Billy, the White Lady, and the Disconsolate Lover--while Kankakee came last, striding along behind to see that no one straggled. When they were all in line, ready to start, Kankakee warned them of the danger. “You are now in the Forbidden Land,” he said, “and it is unlawful for any mortal to cross it. Keep close together, and do not speak lest your voices betray you to one of the snow sprites, who serve the Queen Aurora Borealis. Burrow beneath the snow if danger threatens, and lie hidden till it has passed. The most deadly peril we will encounter is Jack Frost. He may not discover us--but if he should our fate is sealed. Mush!” Maida began to feel a little uneasy. It wasn’t such a joke after all to find the Wishing Post. She must have dozed a little, for suddenly she awoke with a start to find that everybody was standing still, looking at a strange being who stood in their path. The Eskimos were cowering in a huddle and the dogs lay on their stomachs with their ears flattened on their heads, looking very much afraid. He who opposed their march was very beautiful--yet very terrible, and Maida was so fascinated she could look at nothing else. He was tall, oh, very tall, and rather thin. His face was lean and white, and his nose curved like the beak of an eagle. But his eyes, oh, those wonderful cruel eyes, they were light blue, and oh, so cold. When he looked at Maida she shivered. In his hand he carried a sword, not of steel, but made of something white that shone and glistened. His dress too, was all white and glittery, but rather thin, though he didn’t seem to mind the cold at all. While Maida was staring at him one of the dogs leaped toward him. He did not move, or turn his head, he merely let the end of the white sword fall till it touched the dog and the poor creature fell over on its back--all stiff and frozen. Then Maida knew who it was. It could be no one but Jack Frost, King of the North Wind. Were you ever dreadfully frightened at a cow, or a big bug, or even a snake? Well, do you remember that sting-y, creepy feeling that went over the roots of your hair? Maida felt that every separate hair was standing out straight in a different direction.