CHIEF
JOSEPH'S
Own Story
From the
NORTH AMERICAN REVIEW
April, 1879


Chief Joseph's
Own Story
Reprinted by permission from the North Amer-
ican Review of April, 1879, and “Northwestern
Fights and Fighters,” by CYRUs Townsend
BRADy
Foreword by
DONALD MACRAE
º º-
Photo by courtesy of Western Magazine
Chief Joseph


Chief Joseph's Last Stand
Young Joseph, his people, and his marvelous retreat of nearly
two thousand miles
FOREWORD
By Don ALD MACRAE
About fifteen miles to the south of the Great Northern Rail-
way tracks at Chinook, Montana, a historic battlefield lies almost
forgotten among the ravines and gullies that line the high bluffs
of Snake Creek near its junction with the Milk River in the
Bear Paw Mountains. Its trenches and earth works have grad-
ually fallen into decay and the wild flowers and tall prairie grass
have nearly obliterated the graves of its heroic dead.
Few people today, save possibly those living close by or those
interested in Northwest history, can tell you the name of this
place or of those who so gallantly fought here; yet less than
fifty years ago on this very spot the white man and the red were
fighting one of their last great battles.
Chief Joseph and his band of Nez Percé warriors had success-
fully defeated General Howard's men on the Lolo trail, fought a
drawn battle with General Gibbon at Big Hole and were rapidly
retreating by a circuitous trail to join Sitting Bull in Canada, but
the telegraph of the white man was working against him. Un-
known to this Indian Chieftain, Colonel (later General) Miles was
rapidly marching to the Northwest to intercept him before he
could reach the border. Had Chief Joseph known of this he could
have easily escaped with all his people as he crossed the Missouri
a full day ahead of Miles, but the Three Daughters of the Night
decreed otherwise and the opposing forces met at this spot on the
30th of September, 1877. - -
Three days later General Howard arrived upon the scene and,
on the 4th of October, Joseph surrendered with eighty-seven war-
riors, of whom forty were wounded, one hundred and eighty-four
squaws and one hundred and forty-seven children. This was the
pathetic message of surrender he sent to General Howard:
3

Tell General Howard that I know his heart. What he
told me before—I have it in my heart. I am tired of fight-
ing. Our chiefs are killed. Looking Glass is dead.
Too-hul-hul-sote is dead. The old men are all dead. It is
the young men now, who say “yes” or “no” (that is, vote
in council). He who led the young men (Joseph's brother
Ollicut) is dead. It is cold, and we have no blankets. The
little children are freezing to death. My people—some of
them—have run away to the hills, and have no blankets,
no food. No one knows where they are—perhaps freezing
to death. I want to have time to look for my children, and
to see how many of them I can find; maybe I shall find
them among the dead. Hear me, my chiefs, my heart is
sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight
no more with the whiteman.1
This remarkable Indian had accomplished a feat that will be
long remembered as a military exploit of the first magnitude. His
small force, which at no time numbered more than three hundred
warriors, had retreated for nearly two thousand miles through an
enemy country, carrying with them their squaws and children.
They had met United States troops eleven different times and had
fought five pitched battles with them, of which they had won
three, drew one and lost one, a feat that is more remarkable when
you learn that the total force opposing them was nearly two
thousand men. But greatest of all is the fact that this campaign
was conducted without the destruction of property and the mur-
dering of settlers that usually was a part of Indian warfare.
1American Fights and Fighters, The Nez Perce War, by Cyrus Townsend Brady.
Chief Joseph
Young Joseph-he bore this name for a long time as his father
was also called Joseph-was the last of the great warrior chief-
tains. He was a wonderful specimen of the Indian, standing six
feet tall, straight as an arrow and wonderfully handsome, his
features. being as clear-cut as chiseled marble. The New York
Sun of September 24, 1904—in commenting on his death—says
he was a great orator and though he never spoke a word of Eng-
lish some of his sayings, translated, have become famous. He
is reported to have said—“Look twice at a two-faced man;"
“Cursed be the hand that scalps the reputation of the dead;” “The
4

eye tells what the tongue would hide;” “Big name often stands
on small legs;” “Finest fur may cover toughest meat.”
*In early years when the young Joseph appeared before the govern-
ment commission to plead for his people and his lands, the commissioners
were amazed at his wonderful oratorical powers. This seemed to be a
natural gift among the Indians. At the Portage des Sioux (the point of
land lying between the confluence of the Missouri with the Mississippi)
where, in 1815, a treaty was signed which pacified the western Indians,
Standing Elk, the great chief of the Maha nation, delivered his historic
address over the grave of the Teton chief, Black Buffalo. “Do not grieve,”
said the red orator, upon that occasion, “misfortune will happen to the
wisest and best men. Death will come, and always comes out of season;
it is the command of the Great Spirit, and all nations and people must
obey. What is past, and can not be prevented, should not be grieved for.
Be not discouraged or displeased then, that in visiting your father here
you have lost your chief. A misfortune of this kind may never again
befall you; but this would have attended you perhaps in your own vil-
lage. Five times have I visited this land, and never returned with sorrow
or pain. Misfortunes do not flourish particularly in our path, they grow
everywhere. (Addressing himself to Governor Edwards and Colonel
Miller): What a misfortune for me that I could not have died this
day, instead of the chief that lies before us. The trifling loss my nation
would have sustained in my death would have been doubly paid for by
the honors of my burial—they would have wiped off everything like regret.
Instead of being covered with a cloud of sorrow, my warriors would have
let the sunshine of joy in their hearts. To me it would have been a
most glorious occurrence. Hereafter, when I die at home, instead of a
noble grave and a grand procession, the rolling music and the thunder-
ing cannon, with a flag waving at my head, I shall be wrapped in a robe
(an old robe, perhaps) and hoisted on a slender scaffold to the whistling
winds, soon to be blown down to the earth; my flesh to be devoured by
wolves, and my bones rattled on the plain by the wild beasts. (Address-
ing himself to Col. Miller) : Chief of the soldiers, your labors have not
been in vain; your attentions shall not be forgotten, my nation shall know
the respect that is paid over the dead. When I return I will echo the
sound of your guns.”
Of his early life not much is known save that he was born in
eastern Oregon about 1840. He was the eldest of Old Joseph's
two sons and the hereditary chief of the Lower Nez Percé Indians.
His early childhood was most likely spent learning the usual
war and hunting arts common to his people though he did spend
some time at Rev. Spaulding's school—Rev. Spaulding was a mis-
sionary who spent many years among the Nez Percé Indians.
From his father he learned to be careful when dealing with
the whites and to never sell or sign away the lands of his people.
This he never did and it was cause of his taking charge of the
"non-treaty” Indians and consummating his marvelous retreat
5

through the fastness of the Rockies and over the Montana plains
nearly to the Canadian border; although he took no part in the
massacres that were the immediate cause of the outbreak.
This retreat was a masterpiece of military strategy, his men
often holding superior forces at bay while a small detachment of
them slipped around one side and cut off the enemies' supplies.
His warriors—although the Nez Percés had been at peace for
years—were perfectly trained in all the arts of war; in fact, at
one time he formed forty of his men in columns of four and in
the dusk of early night pulled a surprise attack on Howard's
troops—the sentry thinking, by their orderly formation, that they
were part of General Howard's cavalry. General O. O. Howard
in his book about the Nez Percé and Joseph's retreat says of
this particular instance that, “At the Camas Meadows, not far
from Henry Lake, Joseph's night march, his surprise of my camp
and capture of over a hundred animals, and, after a slight battle,
making a successful escape, showed an ability to plan and execute
equal to that of many a partisan leader whose deeds have entered
into classic story.”
Even in his last battle he held out for four days against a force
that out-numbered his two to one and his quiet dignity and for-
bearance at the time of his surrender won him the respect and
friendship of General Miles.
“Thus,” says General Sherman, speaking of Joseph's surrender
to General Miles, “has terminated one of the most extraordinary
Indian wars of which there is any record. The Indians through-
out displayed a courage and skill that elicited universal praise;
they abstained from scalping, let captive women go free, did not
commit indiscriminate murder of peaceful families, which is usual,
and fought with almost scientific skill, using advance and rear
guards, skirmish lines and field fortifications.”
After his surrender, he and his people were sent to Fort Leav-
enworth and later to Baxter Springs, Kansas. In these places
many of the Indians died but it wasn't until 1885 that the sorry
remnant of this audacious band was sent to spend the remainder
of their lives on the Colville reservation, in northern Washington;
a country similar to their beloved Valley of the Winding Waters
and a place where they could live in peace in a climate that they
were accustomed to.

For twelve years Chief Joseph lived quietly on this reservation
but in 1897 becoming alarmed by the encroachments of the whites
in their reservation he again took up the defense of his people,
this time by going to Washington and pleading with the President.
Again it was General Miles—the only white man that he believed
and trusted—who promised him that his people would be un-
molested in the lands they now occupied.
Returning to the reservation he again settled down to enjoy
the peace and quiet of old age, making only one more trip, this
time a friendly visit to the President and his old friend General
Miles—for a part of the time during this trip he took part in
Cummin's Indian Congress and Life on the Plains during that
show's exhibition at the famous Madison Square Garden—and a
year after this trip he dropped dead in front of his tepee on
Sept. 22, 1904.
In speaking of his death, C. T. Brady, in his book about the
Nez Percé War, says: “The other day a gray-headed old chief,
nodding by the fire, dreaming perhaps of days of daring and deeds
of valor, by which, savage though he was, he had written his
name on the pages of history, slipped quietly to the ground and
fell into his eternal sleep. Peaceful ending for the Indian Xeno-
phon, the Red Napoleon of the West.”
*Massacres of the Mountains, page 660, by J. P. Dunn, Jr. Harper & Bros., 1886.
P º Northwestern Fights and Fighters, Cyrus Townsend rady. Doubleday,
age o.
Chief Joseph's Own Story
With an Introduction by the Rt. Rev. W. H. Hare, D. D.,
Bishop of South Dakota.”
I wish that I had words at command in which to express ade-
quately the interest with which I have read the extraordinary
narrative which follows, and which I have the privilege of intro-
ducing to the readers of this Review. I feel, however, that this
"This story, first appeared in The North American Review for April, 1879, and later
in the book, Northwestern Fights and Fighters, written by Cyrus Townsend Brady.
It is through the gracious permission of Messrs. Harper and Bros., the present publish-
ers of The North American, Review, and Doubleday, Page and Company, the publish-
ers of Mr. Brady's book, that this story has been reproduced here.
7

apologia is so boldly marked by the charming naivete and tender
pathos which characterizes the red man, that it needs no introduc-
tion, much less any authentication; while in its smothered fire, in
its deep sense of eternal righteousness and of present evil, and in
its hopeful longings for the coming of a better time, this Indian
chief's appeal reminds us of one of the old Hebrew prophets of
the days of the Captivity.
I have no special knowledge of the history of the Nez Percés,
the Indians whose tale of sorrow Chief Joseph so pathetically tells
—my Indian missions lying in a part at the West quite distant
from their homes—and am not competent to judge their case
upon its merits. The chief's narrative is, of course, ex parte, and
many of his statements would no doubt be ardently disputed.
General Howard, for instance, can hardly receive justice at his
hands, so well known is he for his friendship to the Indian and for
his distinguished success in pacifying some of the most desperate.
It should be remembered, too, in justice to the army that it
is rarely called upon to interfere in Indian affairs until the rela-
tions between the Indians and the whites have reached a desperate
condition, and when the situation of affairs has become so involved
and feeling on both sides runs so high that perhaps only more
than human forbearance would attempt to solve the difficulty by
disentangling the knot and not by cutting it.
Nevertheless, the chief's narrative is marked by so much can-
dor, and he is so careful to qualify his statements, when qualifica-
tion seems necessary, that every reader will give him credit for
speaking his honest, even should they be thought by some to be
mistaken, convictions. The chief, in his treatment of his defense,
reminds one of those lawyers of whom we have heard that their
splendid success was gained, not by disputation, but simply by
their lucid and straightforward statement of their case. That he
is something of a strategist as well as an advocate appears from
this description of an event which occurred shortly after the
breaking out of hostilities: “We crossed over Salmon River,
hoping General Howard would follow. We were not disappoint-
ed. He did follow us, and we got between him and his supplies,
and cut him off for three days.” Occasionally the reader comes
upon touches of those sentiments and feelings which at once estab-
lish a sense of kinship between all who possess them. Witness
8

his description of his desperate attempt to rejoin his wife and chil-
dren when a sudden dash of General Miles' soldiers had cut the
Indian camp in two. . . . “I thought of my wife and children,
who were now surrounded by soldiers, and I resolved to go to
them. With a prayer in my mouth to the Great Spirit Chief who
rules above, I dashed unarmed through the line of soldiers. .
My clothes were cut to pieces, my horse was wounded, but I
was not hurt.” And again, when he speaks of his father's death:
“I saw he was dying. I took his hand in mine. He said: ‘My
son, my body is returning to my mother earth, and my spirit is
going very soon to see the Great Spirit Chief. . . . A few
more years and the white men will be all around you. They have
their eyes on this land. My son, never forget my dying words.
This country holds your father's body—never sell the bones of
your father and mother.' I pressed my father's hand, and told him
I would protect his grave with my life. My father smiled, and
passed away to the spirit land. I buried him in that beautiful
valley of Winding Waters. I love that land more than all the rest
of the world. A man who would not love his father's grave is
worse than a wild animal.”
His appeals to the natural rights of man are surprisingly fine,
and, however some may despise them as the utterance of an In-
dian, they are just those which, in our Declaration of Independ-
ence, have been most admired. “We are all sprung from a
woman,” he says, “although we are unlike in many things. You
are as you were made, and, as you are made, you can remain.
We are just as we were made by the Great Spirit, and you cannot
change us; then, why should children of one mother quarrel?
Why should one try to cheat another? I do not believe that the
Great Spirit Chief gave one kind of men the right to tell another
kind of men what they must do.”
But I will not detain the readers of the Review from the
pleasure of perusing for themselves Chief Joseph's statement
longer than is necessary to express the hope that those who have
time for no more will at least read its closing paragraph, and to
remark that the narrative brings clearly out these facts which
ought to be regarded as well-recognized principles in dealing with
the red man:

1. The folly of any mode of treatment of the Indian which
is not based upon a cordial and operative acknowledgment of
his rights as our fellow-man.
2. The danger of riding roughshod over a people who are
capable of high enthusiasm, who know and value their national
rights, and are brave enough to defend them.
3. The liability to want of harmony between different depart-
ments and different officials of our complex Government, from
which it results that, while many promises are made to the Indians,
few of them are kept. It is a home-thrust when Chief Joseph
says: “The white people have too many chiefs. They do not
understand each other. . . . I cannot understand how the
Government sends a man out to fight us, as it did General Miles,
and then breaks his word. Such a Government has something
wrong about it.”
4. The unwisdom, in most cases, in dealing with Indians,
of what may be termed military short-cuts, instead of patient
discussion, explanations, persuasion, and reasonable concessions.
5. The absence in an Indian tribe of any truly representa-
tive body competent to make a treaty which shall be binding upon
all the bands. The failure to recognize this fact has been the
source of endless difficulties. Chief Joseph, in this case, did not
consider a treaty binding which his band had not agreed to, no
matter how many other bands had signed it; and so it has been
in many other cases.
6. Indian chiefs, however able and influential, are really with-
out power, and for this reason, as well as others, the Indians,
when by the march of events they are brought into intimate rela-
tions with the whites, should at the earliest practicable moment be
given the support and protection of our Government and of our
law; not local law, however, which is apt to be the result of spe-
cial legislation adopted solely in the interest of the stronger race.
WILLIAM. H. HARE.

Chief Joseph's Story
Told by him on his trip to Washington, D. C., in 1897°
My friends, I have been asked to show you my heart. I am
glad to have a chance to do so. I want the white people to under-
stand my people. Some of you think an Indian is like a wild ani-
mal. This is a great mistake. I will tell you all about our people,
and then you can judge whether an Indian is a man or not. I
believe much trouble and blood would be saved if we opened our
hearts more. I will tell you in my way how the Indian sees
things. The white man has more words to tell you how they 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
with a straight tongue. Ah-cum-kin-i-ma-me-hut (the Great Spir-
it) is looking at me, and will hear me.
My name is In-mut-too-yah-lat-lat (Thunder-traveling-over-
the-mountains). I am chief of the Wal-lam-wat-kin band of
Chute-pa-lu, or Nez Percés (nose-pierced Indians). I was born
in eastern Oregon, thirty-eight winters ago. My father was chief
before me. When a young man he was called Joseph by Mr.
Spaulding, a missionary. He died a few years ago. There was
no stain on his hands of the blood of a white man. He left a
good name on the earth. He advised me well for my people.
Our fathers gave us many laws, which they had learned from
their fathers. These laws were good. They told us to treat all
men as they treated us; that we should never be the first to break
a bargain; that it was a disgrace to tell a lie; that we should
speak only the truth; that it was a shame for one man to take
from another his wife, or his property, without paying for it.
We were taught to believe that the Great Spirit sees and hears
everything, and that He never forgets; that hereafter He will
give every man a spirit-home according to his deserts; if he has
been a good man, he will have a good home; if he has been a
bad man, he will have a bad home. This I believe, and all my
people believe the same.
We did not know there were other people besides the Indians
until about one hundred winters ago, when some men with white
faces came to our country. They brought many things with them
"Chief Joseph's story is presented here not as a matter of historic record or as
:*::::::::::::::::::"º..."; #.º.º.º.º. º.º.
- e will not permit including
General Howard’s reply which appears in Cyrus Townsend Brady’s book.” Nº.
western Fights and Fighters.”
11

to trade for furs and skins. They brought tobacco, which was
new to us. They brought guns with flint-stones on them, which
frightened our women and children. Our people could not talk
with these white-faced men, but they used signs which all people
understood. These men were Frenchmen, and they called our
people "Nez Percés,” because they wore rings in their noses for
ornaments. Although very few of our people wear them now, we
are still called by the same name. These French trappers said a
great many things to our fathers, which have been planted in our
hearts. Some were good for us, but some were bad. Our people
were divided in opinion about these men. Some thought they
taught more bad than good. An Indian respects a brave man,
but he despises a coward. He loves a straight tongue, but he
hates a forked tongue. The French trappers told us some truths
and some lies.
The first white men of your people who came to our country
were named Lewis and Clarke. They also brought many things
that our people had never seen. They talked straight, and our
people gave them a great feast, as a proof that their hearts were
friendly. These men were very kind. They made presents to
our chiefs and our people made presents to them. We had a great
many horses of which we gave them what they needed, and they
gave us guns and tobacco in return. All the Nez Percés made
friends with Lewis and Clarke, and agreed to let them pass through
their country, and never to make war on white men. This prom-
ise the Nez Percés have never broken. No white man can accuse
them of bad faith, and speak with a straight tongue. It has al-
ways been the pride of the Nez Percés that they were the friends
of the white men. When my father was a young man there came
to our country a white man (Rev. Mr. Spaulding) who talked
spirit law. He won the affections of our people because he spoke
good things to them. At first he did not say anything about white
men wanting to settle on our lands. Nothing was said about that
until about twenty winters ago when a number of white people
came into our country and built houses and made farms. At first
our people made no complaint. They thought there was room
enough for all to live in peace, and they were learning many things
from the white men that seemed to be good. But we soon found
that the white men were growing rich very fast, and were greedy
12

to possess everything the Indian had. My father was the first to
see through the schemes of the white men, and he warned his tribe
to be careful about trading with them. He had a suspicion of
men who seemed so anxious to make money. I was a boy then,
but I remember well my father's caution. He had sharper eyes
than the rest of our people.
Next there came a white officer (Governor Stevens) who
invited all the Nez Percés to a treaty council. After the council
was opened he made known his heart. He said there were a great
many white people in the country, and many more would come;
that he wanted the land marked out so that the Indians and white
men could be separated. If they were to live in peace it was
necessary, he said, that the Indians should have a country set
apart for them, and in that country they must stay. My father,
who represented his band, refused to have anything to do with
the council, because he wished to be a free man. He claimed that
no man owned any part of the earth, and a man could not sell
what was not his own.
Mr. Spaulding took hold of my father's arm and said: “Come
and sign the treaty.” My father pushed him away and said:
“Why do you ask me to sign away my country? It is your busi-
ness to talk to us about spirit matters, and not to talk to us about
parting with our land.” Governor Stevens urged my father to
sign his treaty, but he refused. “I will not sign your paper,” he
said, “you go where you please, so do I; you are not a child, I
am no child; I can think for myself. No man can think for me.
I have no other home than this. I will not give it up to any man.
My people would have no home. Take away your paper. I will
not touch it with my hand.”
My father left the council. Some of the chiefs of the other
bands of the Nez Percés signed the treaty, and then Governor
Stevens gave them presents of blankets. My father cautioned
his people to take no presents, for “after awhile,” he said, “they
will claim that you accepted pay for your country.” Since that
time four bands of Nez Percés have received annuities from the
United States. My father was invited to many councils, and
they tried hard to make him sign the treaty, but he was firm as
the rock, and would not sign away his home. His refusal caused
a difference among the Nez Percés.
13

Eight years later (1863) was the next treaty council. A chief
called Lawyer, because he was a great talker, took the lead in
this council, and sold nearly all of the Nez Percés country. My
father was not there. He said to me: “When you go into council
with the white man, always remember your country. Do not give
it away. The white man will cheat you out of your home. I
have taken no pay from the United States. I have never sold our
land.” In this treaty Lawyer acted without authority from our
band. He had no right to sell the Wallowa (winding water)
country. That had always belonged to my father's own people,
and the other bands had never disputed our right to it. No other
Indians ever claimed Wallowa.
In order to have all people understand how much land we
owned, my father planted poles around it and said:
“Inside is the home of my people—the white man may take
the land outside. Inside this boundary all our people were born.
It circles around the graves of our fathers, and we will never give
up these graves to any man.”
The United States claimed they had bought all the Nez Percés
country outside the Lapwai Reservation from Lawyer and other
chiefs, but we continued to live on this land in peace until eight
years ago, when white men began to come inside the bounds my
father had set. We warned them against this great wrong, but
they would not leave our land, and some bad blood was raised.
The white man represented that we were going upon the war-
path. They reported many things that were false.
The United States Government again asked for a treaty coun-
cil. My father had become blind and feeble. He could no longer
speak for his people. It was then I took my father's place as chief.
In this council I made my first speech to white men. I said to the
agent who held the council:
“I did not want to come to this council, but I came hoping that
we could save blood. The white man has no right to come here
and take our country. We have never accepted presents from the
Government. Neither Lawyer nor any other chief had authority
to sell this land. It has always belonged to my people. It came
unclouded to them from our fathers, and we will defend this land
as long as a drop of Indian blood warms the hearts of our men.”
14

The agent said he had orders, from the Great White Chief at
Washington, for us to go upon the Lapwai Reservation, and that
if we obeyed he would help us in many ways. “You must move
to the agency,” he said. I answered him: “I will not. I do not
need your help; we have plenty, and we are contented and happy
if the white man will let us alone. The reservation is too small
for so many people with all their stock. You can keep your pres-
ents; we can go to your towns and pay for all we need; we have
plenty of horses and cattle to sell, and we won't have any help from
you; we are free now; we can go where we please. Our fathers
were born here. Here they lived, here they died, here are their
graves. We will never leave them.” The agent went away, and
we had peace for awhile.
Soon after this my father sent for me. I saw he was dying. I
took his hand in mine. He said: “My son, my body is returning
to my mother earth, and my spirit is going very soon to see the
Great Spirit Chief. When I am gone, think of your country.
You are the chief of these people. They look to you to guide
them. Always remember that your father never sold his country.
You must stop your ears whenever you are asked to sign a treaty
selling your home. A few years more, and white men will be all
around you. They have their eyes on this land. My son, never
forget my dying words. This country holds your father's body.
Never sell the bones of your father and your mother.” I pressed
my father's hand and told him that I would protect his grave with
my life. My father smiled and passed away to the spirit-land.
I buried him in that beautiful valley of winding waters. I love
that land more than all the rest of the world. A man who would
not love his father's grave is worse than a wild animal.
For a short time we lived quietly. But this could not last.
White men had found gold in the mountains around the land of
the winding water. They stole a great many horses from us, and
we could not get them back because we were Indians. The white
men told lies for each other. They drove off a great many of our
cattle. Some white men branded our young cattle so they could
claim them. We had no friend who would plead our cause be-
fore the law councils. It seemed to me that some of the white
men in Wallowa were doing these things on purpose to get up a
war. They knew that we were not strong enough to fight them.
15

I labored hard to avoid trouble and bloodshed. We gave up SOme
of our country to the white men, thinking that then we could have
peace. We were mistaken. The white man would not let us alone.
We could have avenged our wrongs many times, but we did not.
Whenever the Government has asked us to help them against
other Indians, we have never refused. When the white men were
few and we were strong we could have killed them off, but the
Nez Percés wished to live at peace.
If we have not done so, we have not been to blame. I believe
that the old treaty has never been correctly reported. If we ever
owned the land we own it still, for we never sold it. In the treaty
councils the commissioners have claimed that our country had been
sold to the Government. Suppose a white man should come to me
and say, “Joseph, I like your horses, and I want to buy them.” I
say to him, “No, my horses suit me, I will not sell them.” Then
he goes to my neighbor, and says to him: “Joseph has some good
horses. I want to buy them, but he refuses to sell.” My neighbor
answers, “Pay me the money, and I will sell you Joseph's horses.”
The white man returns to me and says, “Joseph, I have bought
your horses, and you must let me have them.” If we sold our
lands to the Government, this is the way they were bought.
On account of the treaty made by the other bands of Nez
Percés, the white men claimed my lands. We were troubled great-
ly by white men crowding over the line. Some of these were good
men, and we lived on peaceful terms with them, but they were
not all good.
Nearly every year the agent came over from Lapwai and order-
ed us on to the reservation. We always replied that we were sat-
isfied to live in Wallowa. We were careful to refuse the presents
or annuities which he offered.
Through all the years since the white man came to Wallowa
we have been threatened and taunted by them and the treaty Nez
Percés. They have given us no rest. We have had a few good
friends among white men, and they have always advised my people
to bear these taunts without fighting. Our young men were quick-
tempered, and I have had great trouble in keeping them from do-
ing rash things. I have carried a heavy load on my back ever
since I was a boy. I learned then that we were but few, while the
white men were many, and that we could not hold our own with
16

them. We were like deer. They were like grizzly bears. We
had a small country. Their country was large. We were content-
ed to let things remain as the Great Spirit Chief made them. They
were not; and would change the rivers and mountains if they
did not suit them.
Year after year we have been threatened, but no war was
made upon my people until General Howard came to our country
two years ago and told us that he was the white war-chief of all
that country. He said: “I have a great many soldiers at my back.
I am going to bring them up here, and then I will talk to you
again. I will not let white men laugh at me the next time I come.
The country belongs to the Government, and I intend to make
you go upon the reservation.”
I remonstrated with him against bringing more soldiers to the
Nez Percés country. He had one house full of troops all the time
at Fort Lapwai,
The next spring the agent at Umatilla Agency sent an Indian
runner to tell me to meet General Howard at Walla Walla. I
could not go myself, but I sent my brother and five other head men
to meet him, and they had a long talk.
General Howard said: “You have talked straight, and it is all
right. You can stay at Wallowa.” He insisted that my brother
and his company should go with him to Fort Lapwai. When the
party arrived there General Howard sent out runners and called
all the Indians to a grand council. I was in that council. I said
to General Howard, “We are ready to listen.” He answered that
he would not talk then, but would hold a council next day, when
he would talk plainly. I said to General Howard: “I am ready
to talk today. I have been in a great many councils, but I am no
wiser. We are all sprung from a woman, although we are unlike
in many things. We can not be made over again. You are as you
were made, and as you were made you can remain. We are just
as we were made by the Great Spirit, and you can not change us;
then why should children of one mother and one father quarrel?—
why should one try to cheat the other? I do not believe that the
Great Spirit Chief gave one kind of men the right to tell another
kind of men what they must do.”
General Howard replied: “You deny my authority, do you?
You want to dictate to me, do you?” -
17

Then one of my chiefs—Too-hul-hul-sote—rose in the coun-
cil and said to General Howard: “The Great Spirit Chief made
the world as it is, and as He wanted it, and He made a part of it
for us to live upon. I do not see where you get authority to say
that we shall not live where He placed us.”
General Howard lost his temper and said: “Shut up! I don't
want to hear any more of such talk. The law says you shall go
upon the reservation to live, and I want you to do so, but you per-
sist in disobeying the law” (meaning the treaty). “If you do
not move, I will take the matter into my own hand, and make
you suffer for your disobedience.”
Too-hul-hul-sote answered: “Who are you, that you ask us
to talk, and then tell me I shan’t talk? Are you the Great Spirit?
Did you make the world? Did you make the sun ? Did you make
the rivers to run for us to drink? Did you make the grass to
grow P Did you make all these things that you talk to us as though
we were boys? If you did, then you have the right to talk as you
do.”
General Howard replied: “You are an impudent fellow, and
I will put you in the guard-house,” and then ordered a soldier to
arrest him.
Too-hul-hul-sote made no resistance. He asked General
Howard: “Is this your order? I don't care. I have expressed
my heart to you. I have nothing to take back. I have spoken for
my country. You can arrest me, but you can not change me or
make me take back what I have said.”
The soldiers came forward and seized my friend and took him
to the guard-house. My men whispered among themselves wheth-
er they would let this thing be done. I counseled them to submit.
I knew if we resisted that all the white men present, including
General Howard, would be killed in a moment, and we would be
blamed. If I had said nothing, General Howard would never have
given an unjust order against my men. I saw the danger and
while they dragged Too-hul-hul-sote to prison, I arose and said:
“I am going to talk now. I don't care whether you arrest me or
not.” I turned to my people and said: “The arrest of Too-hul-
hul-sote was wrong, but we will not resent the insult. We were
invited to this council to express our hearts, and we have done so."
Too-hul-hul-sote was prisoner for five days before he was re-
leased.
18

The council broke up that day. On the next morning General
Howard came to my lodge, and invited me to go with him and
White Bird and Looking Glass, to look for land for my people.
As we rode along we came to some good land that was already
occupied by Indians and white people. General Howard, point-
ing to this land, said: “If you will come on to the reservation, I
will give you these lands and move these people off.”
I replied: “No. It would be wrong to disturb these people.
I have no right to take their home. I have never taken what did
not belong to me. I will not now.”
We rode all day upon the reservation, and found no good land
unoccupied. I have been informed by men who do not lie that
General Howard sent a letter that night telling the soldiers at
Walla Walla to go to Wallowa Valley, and drive us out upon our
return home.
In the council next day General Howard informed us in a
haughty spirit that he would give my people thirty days to go back
home, collect all their stock, and move on to the reservation, say-
ing, “If you are not here in that time, I shall consider that you
want to fight, and will send my soldiers to drive you on.”
I said: “War can be avoided and it ought to be avoided. I
want no war. My people have always been the friends of the
white man. Why are you in such a hurry? I can not get ready to
move in thirty days. Our stock is scattered, and Snake River is
very high. Let us wait until fall, then the river will be low. We
want time to hunt our stock and gather our supplies for the
winter.”
General Howard replied, “If you let the time run over one
day, the soldiers will be there to drive you on to the reservation,
and all your cattle and horses outside of the reservation at that
time will fall into the hands of the white men.”
I knew I had never sold my country, and that I had no land
in Lapwai; but I did not want bloodshed. I did not want my
people killed. I did not want anybody killed. Some of my people
had been murdered by white men, and the white murderers were
never punished for it. I told General Howard about this, and
again said I wanted no war. I wanted the people who lived upon
the lands I was to occupy at Lapwai to have time to gather their
harvest.
19

I said in my heart that, rather than have war I would give up
my country. I would rather give up my father's grave. I would
give up everything rather than have the blood of white men upon
the hands of my people.
General Howard refused to allow me more than thirty days to
move my people and their stock. I am sure that he began to pre-
pare for war at once.
When I returned to Wallowa I found my people very much
excited upon discovering that the soldiers were already in the
Wallowa Valley. We held a council, and decided to move im-
mediately to avoid bloodshed.
Too-hul-hul-sote, who felt outraged by his imprisonment,
talked for war, and made many of my young men willing to fight
rather than be driven like dogs from the land where they were
born. He declared that blood alone would wash out the disgrace
General Howard had put upon him. It required a strong heart
to stand up against such talk, but I urged my people to be quiet,
and not to begin a war.
We gathered all the stock we could find, and made an attempt
to move. We left many of our horses and cattle in Wallowa, and
we lost several hundred in crossing the river. All my people suc-
ceeded in getting across in safety. Many of the Nez Percés came
together in Rocky Canon to hold a grand council. I went with all
my people. This council lasted ten days. There was a great deal
of war talk and a great deal of excitement. There was one young
brave present whose father had been killed by a white man five
years before. This man's blood was bad against white men and
he left the council calling for revenge.
Again I counseled peace, and I thought the danger was past.
We had not complied with General Howard's order because we
could not, but we intended to do so as soon as possible. I was
leaving the council to kill beef for my family when news came
that the young man whose father had been killed had gone out
with several hot-blooded young braves and killed four white men.
He rode up to the council and shouted: “Why do you sit here
like women? The war has begun already.” I was deeply grieved.
All the lodges were moved except my brother's and my own. I
saw clearly that the war was upon us when I learned that my
20

young men had been secretly buying ammunition. I heard then
that Too-hul-hul-sote, who had been imprisoned by General
Howard, had succeeded in organizing a war party. I knew that
their acts would involve all my people. I saw that the war could
not then be prevented. The time had passed. I counseled peace
from the beginning. I knew that we were too weak to fight the
United States. We had many grievances, but I knew that war
would bring more. We had good white friends, who advised us
against taking the war-path. My friend and brother, Mr. Chap-
man, who has been with us since the surrender, told us just how
the war would end. Mr. Chapman took sides against us and
helped General Howard. I do not blame him for doing so. He
tried hard to prevent bloodshed. We hoped the white settlers
would not join the soldiers. Before the war commenced we had
discussed this matter all over, and many of my people were in
favor of warning them that if they took no part against us they
should not be molested in the event of war being begun by General
Howard. This plan was voted down in the war-council.
There were bad men among my people who had quarreled with
white men, and they talked of their wrongs until they roused all
the bad hearts in the council. Still I could not believe that they
would begin the war. I know that my young men did a great
wrong, but I ask, Who was first to blame? They had been insulted
a thousand times; their fathers and brothers had been killed; their
mothers and wives had been disgraced; they had been driven to
madness by the whiskey sold to them by the white men; they had
been told by General Howard that all their horses and cattle which
they had been unable to drive out of Wallowa were to fall into
the hands of white men; and, added to all this, they were home-
less and desperate. -
I would have given my own life if I could have undone the
killing of white men by my people. I blame my young men and
I blame the white men. I blame General Howard for not giving
my people time to get their stock away from Wallowa. I do not
acknowledge that he had the right to order me to leave wallowa at
any time. I deny that either my father or myself ever sold that
land. It is still our land. It may never again be our home, but
my father sleeps there, and I love it as I love my mother. I left
there, hoping to avoid bloodshed.
21

If General Howard had given me plenty of time to gather up
my stock, and treated Too-hul-hul-sote as a man should be
treated, there would have been no war. My friends among white
men have blamed me for the war. I am not to blame. When my
young men began the killing, my heart was hurt. Although I did
not justify them, I remembered all the insults I had endured, and
my blood was on fire. Still I would have taken my people to the
buffalo country without fighting, if possible.
I could see no other way to avoid a war. We moved over to
White Bird Creek, sixteen miles away, and there encamped, intend-
ing to collect our stock before leaving; but the soldiers attacked us
and the first battle was fought. We numbered in that battle sixty
men, and the soldiers a hundred. The fight lasted but a few min-
utes, when the soldiers retreated before us for twelve miles. They
lost thirty-three killed, and had seven wounded. When an Indian
fights, he only shoots to kill; but soldiers shoot at random. None
of the soldiers were scalped. We do not believe in scalping, nor
in killing wounded men. Soldiers do not kill many Indians unless
they are wounded and left upon the battlefield. Then they kill
Indians.
Seven days after the first battle General Howard arrived in
the Nez Percés country, bringing seven hundred more soldiers.
It was now war in earnest. We crossed over Salmon River, hop-
ing General Howard would follow. We were not disappointed.
He did follow us, and we got between him and his supplies, and
cut him off for three days. He sent out two companies to open
the way. We attacked them, killing one officer, two guides, and
ten men.
We withdrew, hoping the soldiers would follow, but they had
got fighting enough for that day. They intrenched themselves,
and next day we attacked them again. The battle lasted all day,
and was renewed next morning. We killed four and wounded
seven or eight.
About this time General Howard found out that we were in
his rear. Five days later he attacked us with three hundred and
fifty soldiers and settlers. We had two hundred and fifty war-
riors. The fight lasted twenty-seven hours. We lost four killed
and several wounded. General Howard's loss was twenty-nine
men killed and sixty wounded.
22

The following day the soldiers charged upon us, and we re-
treated with our families and stock a few miles, leaving eighty
lodges to fall into General Howard's hands.
Finding that we were outnumbered, we retreated to Bitter
Root Valley. Here another body of soldiers came upon us and
demanded our surrender. We refused. They said, “You can not
get by us.” We answered, “We are going by you without fighting
if you will let us, but we are going by you anyhow.” We then
made a treaty with these soldiers. We agreed not to molest any
one and they agreed that we might pass through the Bitter Root
country in peace. We bought provisions and traded stock with
white men there.
We understood that there was to be no war. We intended
to go peaceably to the buffalo country, and leave the question of
returning to our country to be settled afterward.
With this understanding we traveled on for four days, and,
thinking that the trouble was all over, we stopped and prepared
tent-poles to take with us. We started again, and at the end of
two days we saw three white men passing our camp. Thinking
that peace had been made, we did not molest them. We could
have killed, or taken them prisoners, but we did not suspect them
of being spies, which they were.
That night the soldiers surrounded our camp. About day-
break one of my men went out to look after his horses. The sol-
diers saw him and shot him down like a coyote. I have since learn-
ed that these soldiers were not those we had left behind. They
had come upon us from another direction. The new white war-
chief's name was Gibbon. He charged upon us while some of
my people were still asleep. We had a hard fight. Some of my
men crept around and attacked the soldiers from the rear. In
this battle we lost nearly all our lodges, but we finally drove Gen-
eral Gibbon back.
Finding that he was not able to capture us, he sent to his Camp
a few miles away for his big guns (cannons), but my men had Cap-
tured them and all the ammunition. We damaged the big guns
all we could, and carried away the powder and lead. In the fight
with General Gibbon we lost fifty women and children and thirty
fighting men. We remained long enough to bury our dead. The
23

Nez Percés never make war on women and children; we could
have killed a great many women and children while the war lasted
but we would feel ashamed to do so cowardly an act.
>
We never scalp our enemies, but when General Howard came
up and joined General Gibbon, their Indian scouts dug up our
dead and scalped them. I have been told that General Howard
did not order this great shame to be done.
We retreated as rapidly as we could toward the buffalo coun-
try. After six days General Howard came close to us, and we
went out and attacked him, and captured nearly all his horses
and mules (about two hundred and fifty head). We then
marched on to the Yellowstone Basin.
On the way we captured one white man and two white women.
We released them at the end of three days. They were treated
kindly. The women were not insulted. Can the white soldiers
tell me of one time when Indian women were taken prisoners,
and held three days and then released without being insulted 2
Were the Nez Percés women who fell into the hands of General
Howard's soldiers treated with as much respect? I deny that a
Nez Percé was ever guilty of such a crime.
A few days later we captured two more white men. One of
them stole a horse and escaped. We gave the other a poor horse
and told him that he was free.
Nine days' march brought us to the mouth of Clarke's Fork
of the Yellowstone. We did not know what had become of
General Howard, but we supposed that he had sent for more
horses and mules. He did not come up, but another new war-
chief (General Sturgis) attacked us. We held him in check
while we moved all our women and children and stock out of
danger, leaving a few men to cover our retreat.
Several days passed, and we heard nothing of Generals How-
ard, or Gibbon, or Sturgis. We had repulsed each in turn, and
began to feel secure, when another army, under General Miles,
struck us. This was the fourth army, each of which outnum-
bered our fighting force, that we had encountered within sixty
days.
We had no knowledge of General Miles' army until a short
time before he made a charge upon us, cutting our camp in two,
24

and capturing nearly all of our horses. About seventy men,
myself among them, were cut off. My little daughter, twelve
years of age, was with me. I gave her a rope, and told her to
catch a horse and join the others who were cut off from the
camp. I have not seen her since, but I have learned that she
is alive and well.
I thought of my wife and children, who were now surrounded
by soldiers, and I resolved to go to them or die. With a prayer
in my mouth to the Great Spirit Chief who rules above, I dashed
unarmed through the line of soldiers. It seemed to me that
there were guns on every side, before and behind me. My
clothes were cut to pieces and my horse was wounded, but I
was not hurt. As I reached the door of my lodge, my wife handed
me my rifle, saying: “Here's your gun. Fight!” -
The soldiers kept up a continuous fire. Six of my men were
killed in one spot near me. Ten or twelve soldiers charged into
our camp and got possession of two lodges, killing three Nez
Percés and losing three of their men, who fell inside our lines.
I called my men to drive them back. We fought at close range,
not more than twenty steps apart, and drove the soldiers back
upon their main line, leaving their dead in our hands. We se-
cured their arms and ammunition. We lost, the first day and
night, eighteen men and three women. General Miles lost
twenty-six killed and forty wounded. The following day General
Miles sent a messenger into my camp under protection of a white
flag. I sent my friend Yellow Bull to meet him.
Yellow Bull understood the messenger to say that General
Miles wished me to consider the situation; that he did not want
to kill my people unnecessarily. Yellow Bull understood this
to be a demand for me to surrender and save blood. Upon re-
porting this message to me, Yellow Bull said he wondered
whether General Miles was in earnest. I sent him back with my
answer, that I had not made up my mind, but would think about
it and send word soon. A little later he sent some Cheyenne
scouts with another message. I went out to meet them. They
said they believed that General Miles was sincere and really
wanted peace. I walked on to General Miles' tent. He met me
-
25

and we shook hands. He said, “Come, let us sit down by the
fire and talk this matter over.” I remained with him all night;
next morning, Yellow Bull came over to see if I was alive, and
why I did not return.
General Miles would not let me leave the tent to see my friend
alone.
Yellow Bull said to me: “They have got you in their power,
and I am afraid they will never let you go again. I have an officer
in our camp, and I will hold him until they let you go free.”
I said: “I do not know what they mean to do with me, but
if they kill me you must not kill the officer. It will do no good
to avenge my death by killing him.”
Yellow Bull returned to my camp. I did not make any agree-
ment that day with General Miles. The battle was renewed while
I was with him. I was very anxious about my people. I knew
that we were near Sitting Bull's camp in King George's land, and
I thought maybe the Nez Percés who had escaped would return
with assistance. No great damage was done to either party dur-
ing the night.
On the following morning I returned to my camp by agree-
ment, meeting the officer who had been held a prisoner in my
camp at the flag of truce. My people were divided about sur-
rendering. We could have escaped from Bear Paw Mountain
if we had left our wounded, old women, and children behind.
We were unwilling to do this. We had never heard of a wounded
Indian recovering while in the hands of white men.
On the evening of the fourth day, General Howard came in
with a small escort, together with my friend Chapman. We
could talk now understandingly. General Miles said to me in
plain words, “If you will come out and give up your arms, I
will spare your lives and send you back to the reservation.” I
do not know what passed between General Miles and General
Howard.
I could not bear to see my wounded men and women suffer
any longer; we had lost enough already. General Miles had
promised that we might return to our country with what stock
we had left. I thought we could start again. I believed General
Miles, or I never would have surrendered. I have heard that
he has been censured for making the promise to return us to
26

Lapwai. He could not have made any other terms with me at
that time. I would have held him in check until my friends came
to my assistance, and then neither of the generals nor their sol-
diers would have ever left Bear Paw Mountain alive.
On the fifth day I went to General Miles and gave up my gun,
and said, “From where the sun now stands I will fight no more.”
My people needed rest—we wanted peace.
I was told we could go with General Miles to Tongue River
and stay there until spring, when we would be sent back to our
country, Finally it was decided that we were to be taken to
Tongue River. We had nothing to say about it. After our
arrival at Tongue River, General Miles received orders to take
us to Bismarck. The reason given was that subsistence would
be cheaper there.
General Miles was opposed to this order. He said: “You
must not blame me. I have endeavored to keep my word, but
the chief who is over me has given the order, and I-must obey
it or resign. That would do you no good. Some other officer
would carry out the order.”
I believe General Miles would have kept his word if he could
have done so. I do not blame him for what we have suffered
since the surrender. I do not know who is to blame. We gave
up all our horses—over eleven hundred–and all our saddles—
over one hundred–and we have not heard from them since.
Somebody has got our horses.
General Miles turned my people over to another soldier, and
we were taken to Bismarck. Captain Johnson, who now had
charge of us, received an order to take us to Fort Leavenworth.
At Leavenworth we were placed in on a low river bottom, with
no water except river water to drink and cook with. We had
always lived in a healthy country, where the mountains were
high and the water was cold and clear. Many of our people
sickened and died, and we buried them in this strange land.” I
can not tell how much my heart suffered for my people while at
Leavenworth. The Great Spirit Chief who rules above seemed
to be looking some other way, and did not see what was being
done to my people.
*I can corroborate this. I saw them there often.—C. T. B.
27

During the hot days (July, 1878) we received notice that we
were to be moved farther away from our own country. We were
not asked if we were willing to go. We were ordered to get
into the railroad cars. Three of my people died on the way to
Baxter Springs. It was worse to die there than to die fighting
in the mountains.
We were moved from Baxter Springs (Kansas) to the Indian
Territory and set down without our lodges. We had but little
medicine and we were nearly all sick. Seventy of my people have
died since we moved there.
We have had a great many visitors who have talked many
ways. Some of the chiefs (General Fish and Colonel Stickney)
from Washington came to see us, and selected land for us to
live upon. We have not moved to that land, for it is not a good
place to live.
The Commissioner Chief (E. A. Hayt) came to see us. I
told him, as I told every one, that I expected General Miles' word
would be carried out. He said it “could not be done; that
white men now lived in my country and all the land was taken
up; that, if I returned to Wallowa, I could not live in peace;
that law-papers were out against my young men who began the
war, and that the Government could not protect my people.”
This talk fell like a heavy stone upon my heart. I saw that I
could not gain anything by talking to him. Other law chiefs
(Congressional Committee) came to see us and said they would
help me to get a healthy country. I did not know whom to be-
lieve. The white people have too many chiefs. They do not
understand each other. They do not talk alike.
The Commissioner Chief (Mr. Hayt) invited me to go with
him and hunt for a better home than we have now. I like the
land we found (west of the Osage Reservation) better than any
place I have seen in that country; but it is not a healthy land.
There are no mountains and rivers. The water is warm. It is
not a good country for stock. I do not believe my people can
live there. I am afraid they will all die. The Indians who
occupy that country are dying off. I promised Chief Hayt to
go there, and do the best I could until the Government got ready
to make good General Miles' word. I was not satisfied, but I
could not help myself.
28

Then the Inspector Chief (General McNiel) came to my
camp and we had a long talk. He said I ought to have a home
in the mountain country north, and that he would write a letter
to the Great Chief in Washington. Again the hope of seeing the
mountains of Idaho and Oregon grew up in my heart.
At last I was granted permission to come to Washington and
bring my friend Yellow Bull and our interpreter with me. I am
glad we came. I have shaken hands with a great many friends,
but there are some things I want to know which no one seems
able to explain. I can not understand how the Government sends
a man out to fight us, as it did General Miles, and then breaks
his word. Such a Government has something wrong about it.
I can not understand why so many chiefs are allowed to talk so
many different ways, and promise so many different things. I
have seen the Great Father Chief (the President); the next
Great Chief (Secretary of the Interior); the Commissioner Chief
(Hayt); the Law Chief (General Butler), and many other law
chiefs (Congressmen), and they all say they are my friends, and
that I shall have justice, but while their mouths all talk right
I do not understand why nothing is done for my people. I have
heard talk and talk, but nothing is done. Good words do not
last long until they amount to something. Words do not pay for
my dead people. They do not pay for my country, now over-
run 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 make good the promise
of your War Chief, General Miles. 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. I am tired of talk that comes to noth-
ing. It makes my heart sick when I remember all the good words
and all the broken promises. There has been too much talking
by men who had no right to talk. Too many misrepresentations
have been made, too many misunderstandings have come up be-
tween the white men about the Indians. If the white man wants
to live in peace with the Indian he can live in peace. There need
be no trouble. Treat all men alike. Give them all the same law.
Give them all an even chance to live and grow. All men were
29

made by the same Great Spirit Chief. They are all brothers.
The earth is the mother of all people, and all people should have
equal rights upon it. You might as well expect the rivers to
run backward as that any man who was born a free man should
be contented penned up and denied liberty to go where he pleases.
If you tie a horse to a stake, do you expect he will grow fat?
If you pen an Indian up on a small spot of earth, and compel
him to stay there, he will not be contented 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 he sees white men going where they please.
They can not tell me.
I only ask of the Government to be treated as all other men
are treated. If I can not go to my own home, let me have a home
in some country where my people will not die so fast. I would
like to go to Bitter Root Valley. There my people would be
healthy; where they are now they are dying. Three have died
since I left my camp to come to Washington.
When I think of our condition my heart is heavy. I see men
of my race treated as outlaws and driven from country to coun-
try, or shot down like animals.
I know that my race must change. We can not hold our own
with the white men as we are. We only ask an even chance to
live as other men live. We ask to be recognized as men. We
ask that the same law shall work alike on all men. If the Indian
breaks the law, punish him by the law. If the white man breaks
the law, punish him also.
Let me be a free man—free to travel, free to stop, free to
work, free to trade, where I choose, free to choose my own teach-
ers, free to follow the religion of my fathers, free to think and
talk and act for myself—and I will obey every law, or submit to
the penalty.
Whenever the white man treats the Indian as they treat each
other, then we shall have no more wars. We shall be all alike—
brothers of one father and one mother, with one sky above us
and one country around us, and one government for all. Then
the Great Spirit Chief who rules above will smile upon this land,
and send rain to wash out the bloody spots made by brothers'
30

hands upon the face of the earth. For this time the Indian race
are waiting and praying. I hope that no more groans of wounded
men and women will ever go to the ear of the Great Spirit Chief
above, and that all people may be one people.
In-mut-too-yah-lat-lat has spoken for his people.
Young Joseph.
31
35.797
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Mez Fº ºneſ -
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J.
1925
Fam
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