They called him Napao Wetikoo--the man-devil.

This was under their breath--a name whispered sinisterly in the glow of tepee fires, or spoken softly where not even the winds might carry it to the ears of Bush McTaggart.

They feared him; they hated him.

They died of starvation and sickness, and the tighter Bush McTaggart clenched the fingers of his iron rule, the more meekly, it seemed to him, did they respond to his mastery.

His was a small soul, hidden in the hulk of a brute, which rejoiced in power.