With a careful study of the early records, the question answers itself.
Four hundred years ago Indian warfare began. Shall it continue until we exterminate the race? When it is, alas, too late, the American people will awaken to the fact that the preservation of the Indian race will be a theme that will stir the very heart of the Nation.
Shall Justice blush as the future historian pens the account of the vanished Indian and our treatment of his race? Will Patriotism hang her head in shame and confusion as the pen portrays the history of the red heroes, who gave up their lives for their home and liberty?
Since that sunny day in May, 1539, when De Soto, amid the salutes of artillery, the music of trumpets, the cheers of thousands of Castilians, sailed into Tampa Bay, Florida has been the scene of stirring events—with the Aborigines forming a tragical background.
Marching across the flower-bedecked country with his gallant men of Spain, with his cavalry, with fleet greyhounds and furious bloodhounds to turn loose upon the savages, also handcuffs, chains and collars to secure them, with priests, workmen and provisions, this proud adventurer reached the present site of Tallahassee. Here, in this vicinity, they came upon a fruitful land, thickly populated.
Ever pressing onward for the gold that was supposed to abound in this new land, one village after another was passed, when provisions and welcome were furnished by the Laziques.
On, on, the proud and haughty Spaniards marched, until they reached the province of Cofaqui. Here the splendor of the reception would amaze us, even to-day. The chieftain and the people gave up their village for the Spanish quarters, moving to another town for the occasion. The following day the chief returned, offering De Soto 8,000 armed Indians, with maize, dried fruits and meat for the journey, 4,000 to act as defenders, 4,000 as burden bearers, to escort the Spaniards through a wilderness of several days’ journey. Such were the proud and generous people the Caucasians found in America.
The haughty Castilian continued his march till he reached the banks of the Mississippi, where he halted and sent his carrier to the chief on the opposite shore, with the usual message, that he was the “Offspring of the Sunne, and required submission and a visit from the chief.” But the chieftain sent back a reply, both magnanimous and proud, that if he were “the Childe of the Sunne, if he would drie up the River, he would believe him; that he was wont to visit none; therefore, if he desired to see him he would come thither, that if he came in peace he would receive him in special good will, and if in Warre in like manner he would attend him in the Towne where he was and for him or any other he would not shrinke one foot backe.”
Old history says this haughty repulse aggravated the illness of De Soto, “because he was not able to passe presently to the River and seeke him, to see if he could abate that Pride of his.”
Notwithstanding the hospitable treatment shown by the natives to the newcomers, the Castilians destroyed them by the thousands: One explorer after another wrote of these friendly people in the new land. “They are very liberal,” says the narrator, “for they give what they have.” Sir Ralph Lane describes the welcome by the natives, who came with “Tobacco, Corne and furs and kindly gestures to be friends with the strange white men,” etc., etc., but adds, “the Indians stole a Silver Cup, wherefore we burnt their Towne and spoylt their Corne,” etc., etc.