The Indian officer who had fired the shot at the Sioux chief had but avenged himself, for he had received his own death wound and fell from his horse even before the one he had turned his bullet upon did.
"'Fire!' The order of Kit Carey was obeyed, and as the fighting became general, the death-knell of Sitting Bull rang out."
(See page [29])
Sitting Bull had reeled under the death wound, and then broke from between his teeth his death-cry and another command, his last utterance, calling his braves to the rescue.
With firm hand upon the bridle rein Kit Carey led the plunging horse of the chief onward, determined to carry him to safety, for he knew not that the wound was mortal.
Then suddenly Sitting Bull straightened up in his saddle, his arms were extended, his lips parted, yet no word came from them, and he fell headlong to the ground beneath the feet of the horses in their mad flight.
The Sioux saw their leader fall, and knew that he had gone to the happy hunting grounds of their people.
They could not rescue him alive, but they could avenge him dead.
And then went up one wild wail of woe, ending in a yell of rage and hatred that was appalling.
Kit Carey well knew the meaning of that weird, terrible cry, and the Indian guards knew it but too well also.