Prentiss Ingraham,
Beadle's Boy's Library of Sport…
“ There was a short struggle, but no cry, as the scout's hand grasped the red-skin's throat, and then all was still, the Indian pony lariated near, not even stopping his grazing. Throwing the red-skin's blanket over his body, Buffalo Bill moved away a few paces to where the pony stood, and called to the next herder in the Sioux tongue to come to him. The unsuspecting warrior obeyed, and the next instant found himself in a gripe of iron and a knife blade piercing his heart. ”
