Page:Oregon, her history, her great men, her literature.djvu/222

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My friends, my name is In-mu-too-yak-lat-lat (Thunder-traveling-over-the-mountains). I have beeenbeen [sic] asked to show you my heart. I am glad to have a chance to do so now. I want the white man to understand my people. The white man has many words to tell how my people look to him, but it does not require many words to speak the truth. What I have to say will come from my heart, and I will speak it with a straight tongue. The Great Spirit is looking at me, and will hear me.

Good words do not last long until they amount to something. Words do not pay for dead people. They do not pay for my country now overrun by white men. They do not protect my father's grave. They do not pay for my horses and cattle. Good words will not give me back my children. Good words will not give my people good health and stop them from dying. Good words will not get my people a home where they can live in peace, and take care of themselves. It makes my heart sick when I remember all die good words and all the broken promises. There has been too much talk by white men who had no right to talk.

If the white man wants to live in peace with the Indians, he can live in peace. There need be no trouble. Treat all men alike. Give all the same law. Give them an even chance to live and grow. All men were made by the same Great Spirit Chief. They are all brothers. The earth is the mother of all people, and all people should have the same rights. If you tie a horse to a stake, do you expect him to grow fat. If you pen an Indian on a small spot of earth and compel him to stay there, he will not be content, nor will he grow and prosper. I have asked some of the great white chiefs where they get their authority to say to the Indian that he shall stay in one place, while white men go where they please. They cannot tell us.

When I think of our condition my heart is heavy. I see