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.
I would have given my own life if I could have undone the killing of white men by my people.
We ask only that the law shall work alike on all men.
When an Indian fights, he only shoots to kill.
Cursed be he that scalps the reputation of the dead.
Our people could not talk with these white-faced men, but they used signs which all people understand.