First published in Great Britain by J.M. Dent & Sons Ltd 1981
First published by HarperCollins 1988
This edition published by HarperCollins Children’s Books 2016
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Text copyright © Lynne Reid Banks 1981
Cover illustration © Pascal Campion 2016
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers, Ltd 2016
Illustrations copyright © Piers Sanford 1999
Note from the author copyright © 2000 Lynne Reid Banks
Lynne Reid Banks and Piers Sanford assert the moral right to be identified as the author and illustrator of the work.
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Source ISBN: 9780007309955
Ebook Edition © 2016 ISBN: 9780007379798
Version: 2016-04-16
For Omri – who else?
CONTENTS
Chapter One – Birthday Presents
Chapter Two – The Door is Shut
Chapter Four – The Great Outdoors
Chapter Six – The Chief is Dead, Long Live the Chief
Chapter Seven – Uninvited Brothers
Chapter Twelve – Trouble with Authority
Chapter Thirteen – Art and Accusation
Chapter Fourteen – The Fateful Arrow
Chapter Fifteen – Underfloor Adventure
IT WAS NOT that Omri didn’t appreciate Patrick’s birthday present to him. Far from it. He was really very grateful – sort of. It was, without a doubt, very kind of Patrick to give Omri anything at all, let alone a secondhand plastic Red Indian which he himself had finished with.
The trouble was, though, that Omri was getting a little fed up with small plastic figures, of which he had loads. Biscuit-tinsful, probably three or four if they were all put away at the same time, which they never were because most of the time they were scattered about in the bathroom, the loft, the kitchen, the breakfast-room, not to mention Omri’s bedroom and the garden. The compost heap was full of soldiers which, over several autumns, had been raked up with the leaves by Omri’s mother, who was rather careless about such things.
Omri and Patrick had spent many hours together playing with their joint collections of plastic toys. But now they’d had about enough of them, at least for the moment, and that was why, when Patrick brought his present to school on Omri’s birthday, Omri was disappointed. He tried not to show it, but he was.
“Do you really like him?” asked Patrick as Omri stood silently with the Indian in his hand.
“Yes, he’s fantastic,” said Omri in only a slightly flattish voice. “I haven’t got an Indian.”
“I know.”
“I haven’t got any cowboys either.”
“Nor have I. That’s why I couldn’t play anything with him.”