he
had died fighting, as a brave man would wish to die.

From that time on, so long as the buffalo were seen, I went out with the
men of the camp. Sometimes I went alone, or with companions of my own age,
and we tried to kill calves, but more than once I went with my uncle. The
second time I rode with him he said to me that I had killed calves, and now
I must try to kill big buffalo. I remembered what he had said about riding
close to the buffalo, but I was afraid to do this, and yet I was ashamed to
tell him that I was afraid. When the surround was made, my uncle and I were
soon among the buffalo. I was riding my uncle's fast buffalo horse. My
uncle rode on my right hand, and when we charged down and got among the
buffalo we soon passed through the bulls and then drew up slowly on the
cows, and those younger animals whose horns were yet straight. I thought we
were going to pass on through these, and kill calves, but suddenly my uncle
crowded his horse up close to me, and, pointing to a young bull, signed to
me to shoot it. I did not want to, but my uncle kept crowding his horse
more and more on me, and pushing me close to the bull. I was afraid of it;
I thought that perhaps it would turn its head toward me and frighten my
horse, and my horse could not get away because of my uncle's horse, and
then my horse, and perhaps I, myself, would be killed; but there was not
much time to think about it. I felt that I was not strong enough to kill a
buffalo; I did not want to try; but all the time my uncle was signing to
me, "Shoot, shoot." There was no way for me to escape, and I drew the arrow
and shot into the buffalo. The point hit the animal between the ribs, and
went in deep, yet not to the feathers. When I shot, my uncle sheered off,
and I followed him; and in a moment, looking back, I saw that the blood was
coming from the bull's nose and mouth; and then I knew that I had killed
it. In a few moments it fell, and I went back to it. Then truly I thought
that I had done something great, and I felt glad that I had killed a big
buffalo. I forgot that a little while before I had been frightened, and had
wanted to get away without shooting. I forgot that, except for my uncle, I
should not have made this lucky shot. I felt as if I had done something,
and something that was very smart and great. You see, I was only a boy.

This feeling did not last very long; after a little I remembered that
except for my uncle I should have still b