What Treaty That The Whites

I Am A Red Man. If The Great Spirit Had Desired Me To Be A White Man He Would Have Made Me So In The First Place.

I Have Killed, Robbed, And Injured Too Many White Men To Believe In A Good Peace. They Are Medicine, And I Would Eventually Die A Lingering Death. I Had Rather Die On The Field Of Battle. Look At Me, See If I Am Poor, Or My People Either. The Whites May Get Me At Last, As You Say, But I Will Have Good Times Till Then. You Are Fools To Make Yourselves Slaves To A Piece Of Fat Bacon, Some Hard-tack, And A Little Sugar And Coffee.

What White Man Can Say I Never Stole His Land Or A Penny Of His Money? Yet They Say That I Am A Thief.

The Life My People Want Is A Life Of Freedom. I Have Seen Nothing That A White Man Has, Houses Or Railways Or Clothing Or Food, That Is As Good As The Right To Move In The Open Country And Live In Our Fashion.

For Us, Warriors Are Not What You Think Of As Warriors. The Warrior Is Not Someone Who Fights, Because No One Has The Right To Take Another Life. The Warrior, For Us, Is One Who Sacrifices Himself For The Good Of Others. His Task Is To Take Care Of The Elderly, The Defenseless, Those Who Can Not Provide For Themselves, And Above All, The Children, The Future Of Humanity.