own by his
ill success, in attempting to arouse the vengeance of Manteo against his
rival.

"Your sister is at the hall often, is she not?" he asked, after a brief
pause.

"Ugh," said the Indian, relapsing into this affirmative grunt.

"So is Hansford--your sister knows him."

"What of dat?"

"Excuse me, my poor friend," said Bernard, "but I came to warn you that
your sister knows him as she should not."

The forest echoed with the wild yell that burst from the lips of Manteo
at this cruel fabrication--so loud, so wild, so fearful, that the ducks
which had been quietly basking in the sun, and admiring their graceful
shadows in the water, were startled, and with an alarmed cry flew far
away down the river.

The Indian character, although still barbarous, had been much improved
by association with the English. Respect for the female sex, and a
scrupulous regard for female purity, which are ever the first results of
dawning civilization, had already taken possession of the benighted
souls of the Indians of Virginia. More especially was this so with the
young Manteo, whose association with the whites, notwithstanding his
strong devotion to his own race, had imparted more refinement and purity
to his nature than was enjoyed by most of his tribe. Mamalis, the pure,
the spotless Mamalis--she, whom from his earliest boyhood he had hoped
to bestow on some young brave, who, foremost in the chase, or most
successful in the ambuscade, could tell the story of his achievements
among the chieftains at the council-fire--it was too much; the stern
heart of the young Indian, though "trained from his tree-rocked cradle
the fierce extremes of good and ill to bear," burst forth in a gush of
agony, as he thus heard the fatal knell of all his pride and all his
hope.

Bernard was at first startled by the shriek, but soon regained his
composure, and calm and composed regarded his victim. When at length the
first violence of grief had subsided, he said, with a soft, mild voice,
which fell fresh as dew upon the withered heart of the poor Indian,

"I am sorry for you, my friend, but it is too true. And now, Manteo,
what can be your only consolation?"

"Revenge is de wighsacan[24] to cure dis wound," said the poor savage.

"Right. This is the only food for brave and injured men. Well, we
understand each other now--don't we?"

"Ugh," grunted Manteo, with a look of satisfaction.

"Very well," returned Bernard, "is your tomahawk sharp