t, and wished to sow some more. I was
living peaceably with all men. I have never committed any crime.
I was arrested and brought back as a prisoner. Does your law do
that? I have been told, since the great war all men were free
men, and that no man can be made a prisoner unless he does
wrong. I have done no wrong, and yet I am here a prisoner. Have
you a law for white men, and a different law for those who are
not white?

"I have been going around for three years. I have lost all my
property. My constant thought is, 'What man has done this?' Of
course I know I cannot say 'no.' Whatever they say I must do, I
must do it. I know you have an order to send me to the Indian
Territory, and we must obey it."

Afterwards, speaking of the terrible days at the Reservation, this
Indian said to an officer:

"We counted our dead for awhile, but when all my children and
half the tribe were dead, we did not take any notice of anything
much. When my son was dying, he begged me to take his bones back
to the old home, if ever I got away. In that little box are the
bones of my son; I have tried to take them back to be buried
with our fathers."

I may here add, that in the meantime the brother of this Indian, who was
left in charge of the tribe, was accused of trying to get away also. He
protested his innocence, but the agent had him arrested and brought
before him. Then he ordered him to be ironed. The proud, free savage
begged not to be put in irons, but the brutal agent persisted. The
Indian resisted, _and was shot dead on the spot_.

Think of the Cheyennes last year. They, too, had tried to escape from
the Reservation, and reach their homes through the deep snow. This was
their only offense. No man had ever accused them of any other crime than
this love of their native haunts, this longing for home. They were dying
there on the Reservation; more than half had already died. And now, when
taken, they refused to go back. The officer attempted to starve them
into submission. They were shut up in a pen without food, naked,
starving, the snow whistling through the pen, children freezing to death
in their mother's arms! But they would not submit. Knowing now that they
must die, they determined to die in action rather than freeze and
starve, like beasts in a pen. At a concerted signal, they attempted to
break through the soldiers and reach the open plain. An old man