We were contented to let things remain as the Great Spirit Chief made them. They were not; and would change the rivers and mountains if they did not suit them.

Hear me, my chiefs! I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.

We ask to be recognized as men.

We were like deer. They were like grizzly bear.

I would have given my own life if I could have undone the killing of white men by my people.

Our chiefs are killed. . . . The little children are freezing to death. . . . My people have no blankets, no food. . . . My heart is sick and sad. . . . I will fight no more forever.

We did not know there were other people besides the Indian until about one hundred winters ago, when some men with white faces came to our country.