In a little while, two thirds of the population were swept from the face of the earth, and the doom of the rest seemed sealed.

The stoicism of the warriors was at an end; they became wild and desperate; some set fire to the village as a last means of checking the pestilence; others, in a frenzy of despair, put their wives and children to death, that they might be spared the agonies of an inevitable disease, and that they might all go to some better country.
When the general horror and dismay was at its height, the Blackbird himself was struck down with the malady.

The poor savages, when they saw their chief in danger, forgot their own miseries, and surrounded his dying bed.

His dominant spirit, and his love for the white men, were evinced in his latest breath, with which he designated his place of sepulture.

It was to be on a hill or promontory, upwards of four hundred feet in height, overlooking a great extent of the Missouri, from whence he had been accustomed to watch for the barks of the white men.