“Yes,” said his father. “I locked them in.”
Omri gave a gasp. “Then they’re al—When?”
“About twenty minutes ago.”
Omri turned to run. His father’s voice stopped him.
“I heard them.”
“What?”
“I heard them in there. I heard their voices.”
He stood up shakily and came to the doorway where Omri was standing, tense in every muscle. He put his hand gently onto Omri’s shoulder.
“It’s true, isn’t it,” he said, in the voice of someone who only wants to be reassured that the world is still the world he woke up to in the morning. “Your story. It was all true.”
Omri suddenly threw himself into his father’s arms. Something long held in seemed to burst inside him. His father held him tightly, then held him away.
“Go on,” he said. “Ask.”
There was only one question that mattered.
“Have you told anyone?”
“Not a living soul. And furthermore, I am never going to.”
Omri closed his eyes. Then he leant forward, pressed his face once again against his father’s shoulder, and turned and ran.
Safe — really safe, now — in his room, he slammed the bolts and flung himself at the cupboard. He could hear them now. Matron’s voice, high-pitched, inquiring. Little Bull answering in grunting tones. Fickits, barking orders. Only Twin Stars didn’t seem to be talking, but there was a sudden wail as a baby started to cry. Mingled with it was the shrill whinny of a horse. Twenty minutes they’d been in there in the dark! Twenty minutes!
With infinite care, controlling his rampaging excitement, Omri lifted the cupboard down and put it on his table. Then he turned the key and opened the door.
The horse braced its front legs and tugged at the rope, held in the hand of the Indian. Standing beside him was Twin Stars, holding a bawling year-old boy in her arms. When the light struck him, he stopped crying and stared, out of eyes like black olives, at Omri. His fat brown cheeks were streaked with tears and his black hair stood up on end.
Fickits wore a sergeant-major’s stripes and had put on weight. He was red in the face, and his cap was on the ground. It appeared to have been jumped up and down on.
Matron’s cap was well and truly on her head. It had reached new heights of importance, and her face matched it. She looked as if she was just dying to give whoever was responsible the telling-off of all time.
But it was at Little Bull that Omri principally looked.
He looked much as he had when Omri had first seen him. Bare-chested, with knife in hand, he stood, legs apart, looking ferocious and baffled.
But when he saw Omri his face changed. It seemed to ignite.
“Hey, Little Bull!” Omri said.
“Brother!” shouted the Indian joyfully. He dropped the horse’s rope and held out his hand. “This good! I have much need!”
“Why, what’s wrong? Can I do something?”
Just at that moment, there was a tap on the door, and they all froze.
“Omri,” said his father’s soft voice. “May I come in?”
They all froze. Little Bull fixed Omri with a fierce grimace. He knew what an adult voice meant. Matron knew too — her hands flew to her mouth. Fickits sprang to attention, as if, whatever was about to happen, he was going to meet it like a true Royal Marine.
It was Twin Stars who spoke, in a terrified whisper.
“We hide? Omri tell what to do!” She had her hand over the baby’s mouth - too tight! He looked as if he were about to burst.
There was another gentle tap on the door.
Slowly, Omri made himself relax.
“It’s okay, Twin Stars,” he said, keeping his voice steady to reassure them. “Let Tall Bear yell if he wants to.”
Twin Stars tentatively removed her hand. Tall Bear’s eyes bulged with rage. He drew a deep breath and gave the loudest bawl he was capable of.
Little Bull had to shout to make himself heard.
“Who big man voice, who make noise on wall?”
For answer, Omri went to the door, unbolted it, and stood aside.
Even Tall Bear, drawing breath for another howl, fell silent as a giant among giants walked into the room.
“This is my father,” said Omri.
His father, with a look of absolute wonder on his face, came slowly forward, and then went down on his knees in front of the cupboard, bringing his face level with the little people. Twin Stars hid behind Little Bull. Tall Bear’s black eyes could be seen peering in awe over his father’s bare shoulder. Matron’s hands instinctively went up to straighten her cap. Fickits, his face a pale shade of putty, nevertheless managed a brief, convulsive salute.
“Dad,” said Omri, “I’d like you to meet my friends.”
There was a brief silence, and then his father said, “I am - incredibly - pleased - and honoured - to meet you.”
From now on, thought Omri, whatever happens — and plenty will — Dad’s in on it. Which is bound to make things… very, very complicated.
But there was no room in his heart for anything but pleasure as they all gathered round to shake the giant’s forefinger.
About the Author
LYNNE REID BANKS was born in London in 1929. Her father was a GP and her mother had been a well-known actress. Aged ten when the Second World War began, she was evacuated to Canada with her mother and cousin, where she spent the war in Saskatoon, a small prairie town. When the family was reunited in 1945 Lynne had to learn secretarial skills before she was allowed to study for the stage. After acting for five years, her father died, and she went over to journalism, eventually becoming one of the first women reporters on British TV in 1955. Seven years later, shortly after the publication of her first novel, she emigrated to Israel where she married and lived throughout the 1960s, teaching, writing and having three sons.
She returned to the UK with her family in 1971 and has lived ever since in London and, more recently, Dorset, writing full-time, travelling and giving talks. She particularly likes going into schools abroad as a volunteer teacher, and has done so in India, Israel, Nepal, Zimbabwe, Tanzania, Navajoland in Arizona, Bulgaria and Hungary.
Also by the Author
Other titles in Lynne Reid Banks’ famous adventures of Omri and Little Bull
Return of the Indian
The Secret of the Indian
The Mystery of the Cupboard
The Key to the Indian
Also by Lynne Reid Banks
The Dungeon
Stealing Stacey
Angela and Diabola
Tiger Tiger
Harry the Poisonous Centipede
Harry the Poisonous Centipede’s Big Adventure
Harry the Poisonous Centipede Goes to Sea
Copyright
First published by Collins in 1993
This edition published by HarperCollins Children’s Books in 2003
HarperCollins Children’s Books is a division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd,
77–85 Fulham Palace Road, Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
The HarperCollins website address is
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Text copyright © Lynne Reid Banks 1993
Illustrations copyright © Piers Sanford 1993
Cover illustrations by Larry Rostant
The author and illustrator assert the moral right to be
identified as the author and illustrator of the work.
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Source ISBN: 9780007149018
Ebook Edition © APRIL 2013 ISBN: 9780007382927
Version 1
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