Books with author Jim Kjelgaard

Geronimo crawled up the hill so carefully that no stalk of grass moved, and no bush quivered. A pair of crested quail, feeding on insects in the grass, merely glanced up when he passed and went on feeding. Geronimo reached the top of the hill and crouched down in the grass. Beyond were more hills, the near ones low, rocky, and given more to shrubs and grass than to trees. Geronimo's eyes strayed across the Arizona landscape to the east. There lay No-doyohn Canyon, where Geronimo had been born in 1829, just twelve years earlier. There his father had died when Geronimo was five years old. In the far distance beyond the canyon, tall, pine-clad mountains rose. Geronimo looked down the slope on a wickiup. This Apache house was built of poles thrust into the ground, with deer skin walls and a smoke hole in the center of the roof. It was the home of Delgadito, a mighty chief among the Mimbreno Apaches, the tribe to which Geronimo belonged. Delgadito was so mighty that only the great chief, Mangus Coloradus himself, outranked him. Delgadito owned many horses. Most of them grazed by day in pastures far from the village. But his black war stallion, his nimble-footed gray hunting horse, and the mare that his wife rode were only absent from their picket ropes when a rider was using them. Now the gray hunting horse was gone, which meant that Delgadito was out after deer. But the mare and the stallion were still there. Geronimo had come to steal the war horse. This, however, was not the time to do it. The mare's presence proved that Delgadito's wife was home. If she saw Geronimo stealing the war horse she would tell her husband. The punishment sure to follow would be harsh and long remembered. Delgadito knew how to use a switch on headstrong boys. Geronimo crouched in his hiding place, waiting. Soon Delgadito's wife came from the wickiup, mounted her mare, and rode away. Geronimo rose and walked swiftly down the hill. The stallion raised its head and watched with eyes that were fearless and questioning. Geronimo grasped the buckskin tie rope, and was drawing the horse to him when— "You leave my uncle's war horse alone!" A girl had come from the wickiup. Geronimo was so interested in the horse that he did not even know she was near until she spoke. Her name was Alope, and she was Delgadito's niece. Geronimo thought she was so lovely that the most dazzling maidens of the Mimbreno or any other tribe were drab beside her. When grown, such a girl would be too good for any warrior. Only a chief would be worthy to have her as his wife. Geronimo said, "I must have this stallion, Alope." "Why?" Alope asked. "I must fight a duel of stallions with Ponce, the son of Ponce, and the only stallion among my mother's horses is too old to fight," Geronimo said.

Jim Kjelgaard wrote here another spell-binder. This time in a swampland mystery he communicates his empathy for small creatures in the story of little Frosty - a kitten as compelling as the animals immortalized by Ernest Seton Thompson. Abandoned in the swamp of Dog Tooth Valley by vicious ne'er-do-well, Luke Trull, Frosty helps his new master, young Andy Gates, as he plants colonies of muskrats in the swamp. A past master of suspense, the author leaves the reader tantalized for the sequence at each chapter's end. Frosty finds his own revenge and helps his good master when Luke Trull attempts to steal the muskrats. As good as the author's earlier A Nose for Trouble and Wildlife Cameraman, etc. A master storyteller here at his best...

Jim Kjelgaard wrote here another spell-binder. This time in a swampland mystery he communicates his empathy for small creatures in the story of little Frosty - a kitten as compelling as the animals immortalized by Ernest Seton Thompson. Abandoned in the swamp of Dog Tooth Valley by vicious ne'er-do-well, Luke Trull, Frosty helps his new master, young Andy Gates, as he plants colonies of muskrats in the swamp. A past master of suspense, the author leaves the reader tantalized for the sequence at each chapter's end. Frosty finds his own revenge and helps his good master when Luke Trull attempts to steal the muskrats. As good as the author's earlier A Nose for Trouble and Wildlife Cameraman, etc. A master storyteller here at his best...

Jim Kjelgaard wrote here another spell-binder. This time in a swampland mystery he communicates his empathy for small creatures in the story of little Frosty - a kitten as compelling as the animals immortalized by Ernest Seton Thompson. Abandoned in the swamp of Dog Tooth Valley by vicious ne'er-do-well, Luke Trull, Frosty helps his new master, young Andy Gates, as he plants colonies of muskrats in the swamp. A past master of suspense, the author leaves the reader tantalized for the sequence at each chapter's end. Frosty finds his own revenge and helps his good master when Luke Trull attempts to steal the muskrats. As good as the author's earlier A Nose for Trouble and Wildlife Cameraman, etc. A master storyteller here at his best...

Jim Kjelgaard wrote here another spell-binder. This time in a swampland mystery he communicates his empathy for small creatures in the story of little Frosty - a kitten as compelling as the animals immortalized by Ernest Seton Thompson. Abandoned in the swamp of Dog Tooth Valley by vicious ne'er-do-well, Luke Trull, Frosty helps his new master, young Andy Gates, as he plants colonies of muskrats in the swamp. A past master of suspense, the author leaves the reader tantalized for the sequence at each chapter's end. Frosty finds his own revenge and helps his good master when Luke Trull attempts to steal the muskrats. As good as the author's earlier A Nose for Trouble and Wildlife Cameraman, etc. A master storyteller here at his best...

Jim Kjelgaard wrote here another spell-binder. This time in a swampland mystery he communicates his empathy for small creatures in the story of little Frosty - a kitten as compelling as the animals immortalized by Ernest Seton Thompson. Abandoned in the swamp of Dog Tooth Valley by vicious ne'er-do-well, Luke Trull, Frosty helps his new master, young Andy Gates, as he plants colonies of muskrats in the swamp. A past master of suspense, the author leaves the reader tantalized for the sequence at each chapter's end. Frosty finds his own revenge and helps his good master when Luke Trull attempts to steal the muskrats. As good as the author's earlier A Nose for Trouble and Wildlife Cameraman, etc. A master storyteller here at his best...

Jim Kjelgaard wrote here another spell-binder. This time in a swampland mystery he communicates his empathy for small creatures in the story of little Frosty - a kitten as compelling as the animals immortalized by Ernest Seton Thompson. Abandoned in the swamp of Dog Tooth Valley by vicious ne'er-do-well, Luke Trull, Frosty helps his new master, young Andy Gates, as he plants colonies of muskrats in the swamp. A past master of suspense, the author leaves the reader tantalized for the sequence at each chapter's end. Frosty finds his own revenge and helps his good master when Luke Trull attempts to steal the muskrats. As good as the author's earlier A Nose for Trouble and Wildlife Cameraman, etc. A master storyteller here at his best...

Jim Kjelgaard wrote here another spell-binder. This time in a swampland mystery he communicates his empathy for small creatures in the story of little Frosty - a kitten as compelling as the animals immortalized by Ernest Seton Thompson. Abandoned in the swamp of Dog Tooth Valley by vicious ne'er-do-well, Luke Trull, Frosty helps his new master, young Andy Gates, as he plants colonies of muskrats in the swamp. A past master of suspense, the author leaves the reader tantalized for the sequence at each chapter's end. Frosty finds his own revenge and helps his good master when Luke Trull attempts to steal the muskrats. As good as the author's earlier A Nose for Trouble and Wildlife Cameraman, etc. A master storyteller here at his best...

Dave Keller worked well at Marcy’s Filling Station but his great wish was to become a game warden—as fine and devoted a one as his father was. However, the waiting list was very long and the qualifications to be met were most exacting.Dave had a second big dream for the future. He wanted to prove that hunting the “varmints”—the coyotes, bobcats and lions that ran rampant in the nearby countryside—could prove a challenging, diverting sport to the countless hunters who swarmed into the area each open season, mostly in quest of deer. This would also put a stop to the reckless placing of poisoned bait by certain ruthless sheepmen whose flocks were being raided by the varmints.Dave’s invaluable aid in his campaign was his loyal companion, Mulligan, a very giant of a dog, who, like the famed stew, had a mingled makeup, but who feared no bobcat!How Dave moved toward his first goal through the second offers worthwhile reading