lness nor made capital of his honor. Again and again he has
proved his worth as a citizen of his country and of the world by his
constancy in the face of hardship and death. Racial antagonism was to
him no excuse for breaking his word. This simplicity and fairness has
cost him dear; it cost his country and his freedom, even the extinction
of his race as a separate and peculiar people; but as a type, an ideal,
he lives and will live!

The red man's genius for military tactics and strategy has been admitted
again and again by those who have fought against him, often unwillingly,
because they saw that he was in the right. His long, unequal struggle
against the dominant race has produced a brilliant array of notable men
without education in letters. Such were King Philip of the Wampanoags;
Pontiac, the great Ottawa; Cornplanter of the Senecas, in the eighteenth
century; while in the first half of the nineteenth we have Weatherford
of the Creeks, Tecumseh of the Shawnees, Little Turtle of the Miamis,
Wabashaw and Wanatan of the Sioux, Black Hawk of the Foxes, Osceola of
the Seminoles. During the last half of the century there arose another
set of Indian leaders, the last of their type--such men as Ouray of the
Utes, Geronimo of the Apaches, Red Cloud, Spotted Tail, and Sitting Bull
of the Sioux, Chief Joseph of the Nez Perces, and Dull Knife of the
Northern Cheyennes. Men like these are an ornament to any country.

It has been said that their generalship was equal to that of Caesar or
Napoleon; even greater considering that here was no organization, no
treasury, or hope of spoils, or even a stable government behind them.
They displayed their leadership under conditions in which Napoleon would
have failed. As regards personal bravery, no man could outdo them. After
Jackson had defeated the Creeks, he demanded of them the war chief
Weatherford, dead or alive. The following night Weatherford presented
himself alone at the general's tent, saying: "I am Weatherford; do as
you please with me. I would be still fighting you had I the warriors to
fight with; but they no longer answer my call, for they are dead."

Chief Joseph, who conducted that masterly retreat of eleven hundred
miles, burdened with his women and children, the old men and the
wounded, surrendered at last, as he told me in Washington, because he
could "bear no longer the sufferings of the innocent." These men were
not bloodthirsty or wanton murderers; they were as g