TRADING JEFF AND HIS DOG _BY JIM KJELGAARD_ _DODD, MEAD & COMPANY, NEW YORK, 1956_ © 1956 by Jim Kjelgaard All rights reserved No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 56-5246 Printed in the United States of America _For Margaret Mary, John, Jim, Frank, and Barbara Dresen_ CONTENTS 1. THE MEETING 1 2. BAD LUCK 18 3. ESCAPE 34 4. THE CABIN 50 5. DAN 65 6. VISITOR 79 7. GRANNY 94 8. ACKERTON 110 9. MIGHTY MISSION 124 10. BOMBSHELL 137 11. THE TALKING TREE 154 12. SURPRISE 167 * * * * * _The characters, incidents and situations in this book are imaginary and have no relation to any person or actual happening._ * * * * * 1. THE MEETING When the dog came to the weed-grown border of the clearing, he stopped. Then, knowing that his back could be seen over the weeds, he slunk down so that his belly scraped the earth. He was tense and quivering, and his eyes bore a haunted look. But there was nothing craven in them and little fear. In all his life the dog had never feared anything except the terrible torment that beset him now. He was of no recognizable breed, though all of his ancestors had been large dogs. There was a hint of staghound in his massive head and in his carriage, and somewhere along the way he had acquired a trace of Great Dane. His fur was silky, like a collie's, and there was a suggestion of bloodhound in his somewhat flabby jowls. Without purpose or plan, the blood of all these breeds had mingled to produce this big mongrel. He was so emaciated that slatted ribs showed even through his burr-matted fur. Had he eaten as much as he wanted, he would have weighed about a hundred and ten pounds, but he had had so little food recently that he was fifteen pounds lighter. Intelligence glowed in his eyes. But there was also something in them that verged on desperation. He moved only his head and moved that slowly. This dog knew too much, and had suffered too much, to let himself be seen until he had some idea of what he was about. He was looking toward a big white farmhouse that was surrounded by a grove of apple trees. A thin plume of blue smoke rose from the chimney, and a pile of freshly-split wood lay in the yard. Busy white hens wandered about. White and black cows and two brown horses cropped grass in a pasture. Pigs grunted in their pen and a black cat sunned itself on the door step.