Before Jackson could speak, Auguste said, "He would be angry if he knew. He would protest to you. And it would do no good. It would only mar the meeting between you and him."
Sharp Knife's smile broadened. "Exactly the sort of tactful decision I'd expect of you. Just why I want you to help me."
Auguste was frightened, but felt he must make it clear to Jackson where he stood.
"Mr. President, when you force the red people to give up land west of the Great River, how will they live? Soon there won't be enough land for them to hunt on."
Jackson spread his hands. "If their food supply runs short, our Indian agents can supply them until they find other means of livelihood."
To depend on government agents for the very food they put into their mouths? That would be a kind of prison.
His heart galloping, Auguste decided to speak even more boldly. "You are looking for someone to reconcile the red man to having his land stolen from him, Mr. President."
"Mr. de Marion, the United States is not a thief." A fierce glare lit Jackson's eyes.
I must try to be bold without being rude.
"I meant no insult, Mr. President. The red man thinks his land is being stolen from him."