He was with his beloved comrade again, not much the worse for his experience.

In truth he was a little homesick, and was stirred with sweet delight at the thought that, if all went well, he should be with his parents within the coming week.
And yet he was oppressed by the thought that one of the results of his short visit to Wyoming was to be the death of a human being.

He was sure he could never shake off the remembrance, and should he ever wish to return in the future to renew his hunt under more favorable conditions, the memory would haunt him.

It mattered not that the wretch deserved to be executed for the crime, in the commission of which he had been interrupted before he could complete it.

He was a savage, a heathen, a barbarian, who was following the light as he understood it.