For a short time we lived quietly. But this could not last. White men had found gold in the mountains around the land of winding water.

We had good white friends who advised us against taking the war path. My friend and brother, Mr. Chapman, told us just how the war would end.

I pressed my father's hand and told him I would protect his grave with my life. My father smiled and passed away to the spirit land.

Finest fur may cover toughest meat.

I saw that the war could not be prevented. The time had passed.

It makes my heart sick when I remember all the good words and the broken promises.

Whenever the white man treats the Indian as they treat each other then we shall have no more wars. We shall be all alike - brothers of one father and mother, with one sky above us and one country around us and one government for all. Then the Great Spirit Chief who rules above will smile upon this land and send rain to wash out the bloody spots made by brothers' hands upon the face of the earth. For this time the Indian race is waiting and praying. I hope no more groans of wounded men and women will ever go to the ear of the Great Spirit Chief above, and that all people may be one people.