The White Man Knows How To Make

I Surrender This Rifle To You Through My Young Son, Whom I Now Desire To Teach In This Manner That He Has Become A Friend Of The Americans. I Wish Him To Learn The Habits Of The Whites And To Be Educated As Their Sons Are Educated. I Wish It To Be Remembered That I Was The Last Man Of My Tribe To Surrender My Rifle. This Boy Has Given It To You, And He Now Wants To Know How He Is Going To Make A Living.

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.

Now That We Are Poor, We Are Free. No White Man Controls Our Footsteps.

What White Woman, However Lonely, Was Ever Captive Or Insulted By Me? Yet They Say I Am A Bad Indian.

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