"I don't care to surrender my birthright." Peter Gross negatived quietly.
"What!" Van Schouten shouted. "Not for a resident's post? And eight thousand guilders a year? And a land grant in Java that will make you rich for life if you make those hill tribes stick to their plantations? What say you to this, Mynheer Gross?" His lips curved with a smile of anticipation.
"The offer is tempting and the honor great," Peter Gross acknowledged quietly. "But I can not forget I was born an American."
Van Schouten leaned back in his chair with a look of astonishment.
"You refuse?" he asked incredulously.
"I am sorry, your excellency!" Peter Gross's tone was unmistakably firm.
"You refuse?" the governor repeated, still unbelieving. "Eight—thousand—guilders! And a land grant that will make you rich for life!"
"I am an American, and American I shall stay."
The governor's eyes sparkled with admiration.
"By the beard of Orange!" he exclaimed, "it is no wonder you Yankees have sucked the best blood of the world into your country." He leaned forward confidentially.