44 THE MURDERER'S FATE. 



moulder in the sun and rains of heaven. Some of them were lying scat- 

 tered near by, upon our arrival, which were collected by the sympathizing 

 voyageurs, who bestowed upon them those rites of sepulture they had 

 been so long and cruelly denied. 



The reader will naturally enquire, what became of the supposed mur- 

 derer ? His was a fearful retribution, — a mournful tale of suffering, worse 

 than death, till death itself in pity came to his relief. 



Soon after the melancholy incident previously related, the shallowness 

 of the Platte river compelled the company to abandon their boat, and make 

 the best of their way to the States on foot, — a distance of two hundred and 

 fifty miles to the nearest inhabitants, either Indian or white. 



Their provisions running short, and no game at hand, a separation was 

 had about midway of their journey, and each one hurried to its termination 

 as rapidly as possible. The murderer, being but an indifferent walker, was 

 soon left far in the rear. 



His comrades, on their arrival at the Pawnee village, sent two Indians 

 to bring him in, and continued their course to Council Bluffs. 



Nothing further was known of the subject of our sketch, till some eight 

 or nine days subsequent, when a small party of engages in the employ of 

 the American Fur Company, on passing the Pawnee village, were met by 

 the head-chief, who requested them to visit a white man lying sick at his 

 lodge. 



They went. He was the murderer, at the point of death. His story 

 was briefly told. 



The night succeeding the departure of his companions, in an attempt to 

 light a fire with his pistol, to disperse by its smoke the myriads of mus- 

 quetoes that swarmed around and nearly devoured him, an unknown charge 

 it contained was lodged in his thigh-bone — severing it to a thousand pieces. 

 In this condition he lay helpless. To walk was impossible ; — he could 

 scarcely move, far less dress his wounds in a proper manner. He man- 

 aged, however, to affix a piece of red flannel to an upright stick, to tell the 

 transient traveller the site of his supposed last resting place, then, crawl- 

 ing with difficulty to t!ie river-side, he remained six days and nights — tor- 

 mented by musquitoes, reduced by pain, and wasted by continued hunger, 

 till scarcely the wreck (»f manhood was left him. 



It was then he longed for death to terminate his agony. Still he could 

 not endure the thoughts of dying. 



Early in the morning of the seventh day, his ear caught the indistinct 

 murmur of sounds. Were they human voices ? — No, he must be dream- 

 ing. He hears them again. It is no dream ; — they are human voices ! 



They approach. Is it to his assistance ? 



O'erjoyed he beholds two Pawnees bending over him, with compassion 

 pictured expressively upon their countenances. They gave him meat, — 

 they dressed his wounds, and did everything in their power to alleviate his 

 misery. 



Oh, say not there is no pity in the bosom of the red man ! 



Having constructed a rude litter of poles, and using their own robes for 

 his bed, they carefully conveyed him upon their shoulders to the place he 

 yet occupied. 



But the care of sympathizing attendants failed to atone for previous neg 



