I Had The Best Buffalo Horse That

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.

The Greatest Of All The Sioux In My Time, Or In Any Time For That Matter, Was That Wonderful Old Fighting Man, Sitting Bull, Whose Life Will Some Day Be Written By A Historian Who Can Really Give Him His Due.

Wild Bill Was A Strange Character. In Person He Was About Six Feet And One Inch In Height. He Was A Plains-man In Every Sense Of The Word.

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

The Indians Were Well Mounted And Felt Proud And Elated Because They Had Been Made United States Soldiers.