They are made of cow's hair, dipped in ink, and in the rain or moisture the ink runs off of them. Besides, they fall to pieces. When we are compelled to take such goods and blankets we are charged big prices for them, and we trade them away for other clothing, and have to give money in addition in order to get decent things to wear. "We want the lands left as they are. We want decent food to eat. We are entitled to good clothing, or money in its place. We want

a law preventing half-breeds from acquiring tribal rights on our reservation. White men come here to marry our young squaws and then claim tribal rights of property and cheat us out of our best grazing lands. If we should kill them for coming among us unforbidden the army would punish us for protecting ourselves. Therefore, I come to ask that the government will treat my people right and protect us from the bad white men."

In his stalwart days Red Cloud was a mighty warrior and a murderous savage. Nevertheless, it is pitiful to see him now, shambling along, led by others and going to Washington to make an honest and heroic effort to secure for his people the rights which ought to be spontaneously conceded by the government. His days of savagery are gone and he is now an old man, wise and attempting in his untutored way, to do right and to induce the intelligent, civilized white men to also do that which is right.