Help us, O Father!
We have sung till morning
The resounding song.’
“But the sun came up, the soldiers fired a big gun, and the soldier chiefs laughed. Then the agent called to me,
“‘Your Great Spirit can do nothing. Your Messiah lied.’
“Then I covered my head with my blanket and ran far away, and I fell down on the top of the high hill. I lay there a long time, thinking of the white man’s laugh. The wind whistled a sad song in the grass. My heart burned, and my breath came hard.
“‘Maybe he was right. Maybe the messenger was two-tongued and deceived us that the white man might laugh at us.’
“All day I lay there with my head covered. I did not want to see the light of the sun. I heard the drum stop and the singing die away. Night came, and then on the hills I heard the wailing of my people. Their hearts were gone. Their bones were weary.
“When I rose, it was morning. I flung off my blanket, and looked down on the valley where the tepees of the white soldiers stood. I heard their drums and their music. I had made up my mind. The white man’s trail was wide and dusty by reason of many feet passing thereon, but it was long. The trail of my people was ended.
“I said, ‘I will follow the white man’s trail. I will make him my friend, but I will not bend my neck to his burdens. I will be cunning as the coyote. I will ask him to help me to understand his ways, and then I will prepare the way for my children. Maybe they will outrun the white man in his own shoes. Anyhow, there are but two ways. One leads to hunger and death, the other leads where the poor white man lives. Beyond is the happy hunting ground, where the white man cannot go.’”