“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, with more surprise than he had yet manifested; and for once, leaving his broken English, he cried in his own tongue, “Ahoaleu Virginia.” (He loves Virginia Temple.)
“And do you?” said Bernard, guessing at his meaning, and marking with surprise the more than ordinary feeling with which Manteo had uttered these words.