When I think of our condition, my heart is heavy. I see men of my own race treated as outlaws and driven from country to country, or shot down like animals.

My people were divided about surrendering.

I believe much trouble would be saved if we opened our hearts more.

The first white men of your people who came to our country were named Lewis and Clark.

Cursed be he that scalps the reputation of the dead.

From where the sun now stands I will fight no more.

I know that my race must change.