"It was the man that killed Brady. Lyin' there on the buffalo skin, he
told them all about it--how he done it and the lie he fixed up. Death
was comin', and the way he'd hated so he couldn't keep his hand from
murder was all one now. He wanted to get it off his mind and sorter
square himself. When he'd struck out alone he went on for a spell,
killin' enough game and always hopin' for the sight of the river. Then
one day he caught his gun in a willow tree and it went off, sending the
charge into his thigh and breaking the bone. He was stunned for a
while and then tried to move on, tried to crawl. He crawled for six
days and at the end of the sixth found a place with water and knowed
he'd come to the end of his rope. He tore a strip off his blanket and
tied it to the barrel of his rifle and stuck it end up. The Pawnees
found him there and treated him kind, as them Indians will do
sometimes. They took him to their village and cared for him, but it
was too late. He wanted to see a white man and tell and then die
peaceful, and that's what he done. While the trappers was with him he
died and they buried him there decent outside the village.
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