“But as the pain from his body increased, his mind seemed to detach itself from the pain, to rise above it, so that he could see himself and Miller more clearly than he had before. During the last hour of the stand he came to see Miller as a mechanism, an automaton, moved by the moving herd; and he came to see Miller’s destruction of the buffalo, not as a lust for blood or a lust for the hides or a lust for what the hides would bring, or even the blind lust of fury that toiled darkly within him -he came to see that destruction as a cold, mindless response to the life in which Miller had immersed himself. And he looked upon himself crawling dumbly after Miller upon the flat bed of the valley, picking up the empty cartridges that he spent, tugging the water keg, husbanding the rifle, cleaning it, offering it to Miller when he needed it -he looked upon himself, and did not know who he was, or where he went.
Miller’s rifle cracked; a young cow, hardly more than a calf, stumbled, got to its feet, and ran erratically out of the circling herd.
‘Damn it,’ Miller said without emotion. ‘A leg shot. That will do it’.”
Vintage Classics 2014 (publicado originalmente en 1971)