acquaintance with the
"Guinea Pig," I nevertheless knew from my own careful observations that
although a foreigner, half-savage he might be, he was certainly true and
loyal to his friends.

Once he fought. It was soon after we became chums that he had a quarrel
with the bully Baynes over the ownership of a catapult. Baynes, who was
three years older, heavier built and much taller, threatened to thrash
him. This threat was sufficient. Omar at once challenged him, and the
fight took place down in the paddock behind a hedge, secure from
Trigger's argus eye. As the pair took off their coats one of the fellows
jokingly said--

"The Guinea Pig's a cannibal. He'll eat you, Baynes."

Everybody laughed, but to their astonishment within five minutes our
champion pugilist lay on the ground with swollen eye and sanguinary nose,
imploring for mercy. That he could fight Omar quickly showed us, and as
he released the bully after giving him a sound dressing as a cat would
shake a rat, he turned to us and with a laugh observed--

"My people are neither cowards nor cannibals. We never fight unless
threatened, but we never decline to meet our enemies."

No one spoke. I helped him on with his coat, and together we left the
ground, while the partisans of Baynes picked up their fallen champion and
proceeded to make him presentable.

Like myself, Omar seemed friendless, for when the summer holidays came
round both of us remained with the Doctor and his wife, while the more
fortunate ones always went away to their homes. At first he seemed
downcast, but we spent all our time together, and Mrs. Tregear, it must
be admitted, did her best to make us comfortable, allowing us to ramble
where we felt inclined, even surreptitiously supplying us with
pocket-money.

It was strange, however, that I never could get Omar to talk of himself.
Confidential friends that we were, in possession of each other's secrets,
he spoke freely of everything except his past. That some remarkable
romance enveloped him I felt certain, yet by no endeavour could I fathom
the mystery.

Twice or thrice each year the elderly negro who had first brought him to
the school visited him, and they were usually closeted a long time
together. Perhaps his sable-faced guardian on those occasions told him
news of his relatives; perhaps he gave him good advice. Which, I know
not. The man, known as Mr. Makhana, was always very pleasant towards me,
but never communicative. Yet he