mbined with a curiosity to converse with one of
the strange race to which he belonged, and, as will be seen, a darker
motive and a stronger reason than either, induced Bernard to rein up his
horse, and permitting his companions to proceed some distance in front,
to accost the young Indian. Alfred Bernard, by nature and from
education, was perfectly fearless, though he lacked the magnanimity
which, united with fearlessness, constitutes bravery. Laying his hand on
his heart, which, as he had already learned, was the friendly salutation
used with and toward the savages, he rode slowly towards Manteo. The
young Indian recognized the gesture which assured him of his friendly
intent, and rising from his rude seat, patiently waited for him to
speak.

"I would speak to you," said Bernard.

"Speak on."

"Are you entirely alone?"

"Ugh," grunted Manteo, affirmatively.

"Where are those who were with you at Windsor Hall?"

"Gone to Delaware,[21] to Matchicomoco."[22]

"Why did you not go with them?" asked Bernard.

"Manteo love long-knife--Pamunkey hate Manteo--drive him away from his
tribe," said the young savage, sorrowfully.

The truth flashed upon Bernard at once. This young savage, who, in a
moment of selfish ambition, for his own personal advancement, had
withheld the vengeance of his people, was left by those whom he had once
led, as no longer worthy of their confidence. In the fate of this
untutored son of the forest, the young courtier had found a sterner
rebuke to selfishness and ambition than he had ever seen in the court of
the monarch of England.

"And so you are alone in the world now?" said Bernard.

"Ugh!"

"With nothing to hope or to live for?"

"One hope left," said Manteo, laying his hand on his tomahawk.

"What is that?"

"Revenge."

"On whom?"

"On long-knives and Pamunkeys."

"If you live for revenge," said Bernard, "we live for nearly the same
object. You may trust me--I will be your friend. Do you know me?"

"No!" said Manteo, shaking his head.

"Well, I know you," said Bernard. "Now, what if I help you to the sweet
morsel of revenge you speak of?"

"I tank you den."

"Do you know your worst enemy?"

"Manteo!"

"How--why so?"

"I make all my oder enemy."

"Nay, but I know an enemy who is even worse than yourself, because he
has made you your own enemy. One who oppresses your race, and is even
now making war upon your people. I mean Thomas Hansford."

"Ugh!" said Manteo