I Could Never Resist The Call Of

With The Help Of A Friend I Got Father Into A Wagon, When The Crowd Had Gone. I Held His Head In My Lap During The Ride Home. I Believed He Was Mortally Wounded. He Had Been Stabbed Down Through The Kidneys, Leaving An Ugly Wound.

It Was My Effort, In Depicting The West, To Depict It As It Was.

My Brother Was A Great Favorite With Everybody, And His Death Cast A Gloom Upon The Whole Neighborhood.

The Indians Said The Bones Were Those Of A Race Of People ... Three Times The Size Of A Man.

I Felt Only As A Man Can Feel Who Is Roaming Over The Prairies Of The Far West, Well Armed, And Mounted On A Fleet And Gallant Steed.