Go Back Home Where You Came From.

Behold, My Friends, The Spring Is Come; The Earth Has Gladly Received The Embraces Of The Sun, And We Shall Soon See The Results Of Their Love!

I Want To Tell You That If The Great Spirit Had Chosen Anyone To Be The Chief Of This Country, It Is Myself.

A Cold Wind Blew On The Prairie On The Day The Last Buffalo Fell. A Death Wind For My People.

Hear Me People: We Have Now To Deal With Another Race - Small And Feeble When Our Fathers First Met Them, But Now Great And Overbearing. Strangely Enough They Have A Mind To Till The Soil And The Love Of Possession Is A Disease With Them. These People Have Made Many Rules That The Rich May Break But The Poor May Not. They Take Their Tithes From The Poor And Weak To Support The Rich And Those Who Rule.

I Will Remain What I Am Until I Die, A Hunter, And When There Are No Buffalo Or Other Game I Will Send My Children To Hunt And Live On Prairie, For Where An Indian Is Shut Up In One Place His Body Becomes Weak.