From With the Seventh Cavalry in 1876, by Theodore Goldin, p. 32:
"... One of our own men, gallant, likable 'Andy' Moore was shot through the stomach and was carried hastily to the hospital, apparently suffering intensely, but when the overworked surgeon hurried over to examine his wounds, he feebly tried to wave him away, saying, 'Never me mind, Doc. I've got mine. Patch up some of the fellows that have a chance to live.' A few minutes later he passed over the divide and was carried out of sight of the living and covered with a bit of canvas until an opportunity came to move a few of the horses and dig a shallow grave on the picket line where we laid his mangled body, covering it as well as we could and packing down the hard soil, then replacing the horses, and in ten minutes neither Indian or coyote could have told that a human body rested there...."