228 WILD SPORTS IN THE SOUTH. 



many times. Some have gone there — Tustenuggee has refused. 

 The white man now offers for the last time, and he wants to know 

 if Tustenuggee will move at once with all his people." 



Said the chief : " Hundreds of winters ago the Great Spirit gave 

 to us this land, its woods, its waters." 



He enunciated emphatically and pointed slowly to the sky 

 above him, and waved his draped arm around with a slow majesty 

 peculiar to the oratory of his race. 



Old Primus, a snowy -haired Indian, translated into English as 

 he spoke, and a secretary at the table wrote down the conversation. 



" Where was our white brother then ? Where then was that 

 shadow ? " pointing to the shadow of the flag on the officers' quar- 

 ters, as it fluttered back and forth on the green sward. " Forty years 

 ago, God made Tustenuggee. Then our white brothers lived to the 

 north. Did the Mickasukies war against our white brother, and 

 ask him to go to Arkansas ? The Mickasukies were big then, the 

 white man little. The white man was so little he could not do his 

 own work, but had black man to help him. 



"Tustenuggee has always lived here. Tustenuggee's people 

 always lived here. They loved the soil ; they dropped their seed 

 here, and their seed has taken root. The roots have gone down far 

 into the earth. The white man is a great wind. He comes from 

 where we can't see. He blows against the red tree. If he blows 

 hard enough the red tree will break down, but the red tree has grown 

 too long to take root elsewhere. My people are like deer — they 

 have been hunted, and are shy. They start when they hear a 

 twig break. They hide when it is day. The white man has hunted 

 them for many winters. He has burned their cabins, he has rooted 

 up their cornfields. They are sick at heart. The women can find 

 no covert to bring forth their young. The men dare not light a 

 council-fire, or come together to talk. The chiefs cannot know the 

 minds of the people, for they are scattered. Let there be peace. The 

 red man will hide his hatchet, and take his hoe. The white soldier 

 may go home. Then, when the tribe comes in from the hummocks, 

 we will talk of moving. Eunners will go to Sam Jones, to Octiarche, 

 and to Tiger Tail. Our hearts will be open — the sun will shine on 

 them — the smoke of powder shuts out the sun now. When that is 



