I was still in revolt: I would hate Him, and show my hatred by being like Him, as He appears to us reflected in that mirror of Nature.

Had He given me good gifts--the sense of right and wrong and sweet humanity?
The beautiful sacred flower He had caused to grow in me I would crush ruthlessly; its beauty and fragrance and grace would be dead for ever; there was nothing evil, nothing cruel and contrary to my nature, that I would not be guilty of, glorying in my guilt.

This was not the temper of a few days: I remained for close upon two months at Managa's village, never repenting nor desisting in my efforts to induce the Indians to join me in that most barbarous adventure on which my heart was set.
I succeeded in the end; it would have been strange if I had not.

The horrible details need not be given.

Managa did not wait for his enemy, but fell on him unexpectedly, an hour after nightfall in his own village.