One day I was chasing buffalo on a young horse, and as it ran down a steep hill, it stumbled among the stones, and fell down, rolling over, and I was thrown far; and, as I fell to the ground, my knee struck against a large stone.  When I got up my leg was useless, and I could not walk, but I managed to catch my horse, and crawling on it I reached the camp.  After a little my knee got better, and then again worse, and then better again.  Still I could not walk, and for two years I stayed in the camp, crippled, and unable to go from place to place, except when I was helped on my horse.  I grew thin and weak, and thought that I should die.

Many of the young men of my age, my friends, were sorry for me.  They used to come to my lodge and eat and talk, telling me the news.  Sometimes, when I was sitting out in the shade of the lodge, looking over the camp, and feeling the pleasant breeze blow on my face, or the warm sun shine on my body, I saw the young men and boys walking about, and running, and wrestling, and kicking, and jumping on their horses and galloping off, and it made me feel badly to think that I could no longer do the things that I used to do; could no longer hunt, and help to support my relations; could no longer go off on the warpath with my fellows, to fight the enemy, or to take plunder from them.  I was useless.

Often during this time, older men—­my uncle’s friends—­used to come to the lodge, and stop there and talk with me for a little time, to cheer me up, for I think they too felt sorry for me.  The doctors tried hard to cure my leg, but though they did many things, and I and my uncle paid them many horses, and saddles and blankets, they could not help me.  Once in a while, in the morning, after all the men had gone out to chase buffalo, or to hunt for smaller animals, deer or elk or antelope, Standing Alone would come to my mother’s lodge, perhaps bringing some little present for her, and would sit and talk with her, and sometimes look at me, and I could see that her eyes were full of tears, and that she too felt sorry.  Sometimes she spoke to me, but not often; but it always made me glad to see her, and made me feel more than ever that she had a good heart.

At the end of two years I sent word to my uncle, asking him to come to see me; and when he had come and sat down, I asked my mother and my sisters to leave the lodge, and when they had gone I spoke to my uncle.  “Father, you have seen how it has been with me for two years; that I am no longer able to go about; that I am a cripple, lying here day after day, useless to my relations, and very unhappy.  Now, I have thought of this for a long time, and I have made up my mind what I shall do.  It is time for me to go off with some of the young men on the warpath, and when we meet the enemy, I will ride straight into the midst of them, and will strike one, and he shall kill me.  I am no longer glad to live, and it will be well for me to die bravely.”