Cursed be he that scalps the reputation of the dead.

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 did not want my people killed. I did not want bloodshed.

Whenever the white man treats the Indian as they treat each other, then we will have no more wars. We shall all be alike-brothers of one father and one another, with one sky above us and one country around us, and one government for all.

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.

Good words will not give me back my children.

It required a strong heart to stand up against such talk, but I urged my people to be quiet and not to begin a war.