" Great Father, I am desired to send you a word. What can I say? Once we were a powerful nation. What are
we to-day? Ask your agent; he visits us every year -he knows our number, and he will say 'Alas! there are not many Mandans left.' What has become of them? What
part of the earth do they occupy? Great Father, look over the prairie, when it is covered with grass and dotted with beautiful flowers of all colors, pleasant to the sight and the smell. Throw a burning torch into this vast prairie, and then look at it, and remember the life and happiness that reigned there before the fire. Then you will have an image of my nation. My great ancient village was like this lovely prairie; my people was this rich growth of grass;
our women and children were the flowers. The smallpox was the torch that set fire to and destroyed our fair gardens, of which, alas! only the memory remains to us.But we have buried the spirit of hatred and vengeance. We no longer reproach the white man for having thrown the burning torch in our midst.
" Death has thinned our ranks. Today three different peoples form only a single village. When the Aricaras and Grosventres are hungry and suffering, we share it with
them. I have heard the speeches that our allies have made. I have thought it my duty to add my feeble voice, hoping that you will take pity on us and protect us against the attacks of our enemies.- Stretch out your powerful arm, and it will form a barrier so strong that the Sioux will not try to pass; and we shall sleep at peace, without bows and arrows at our side,- Assuredly, the strong and powerful will not hear in vain the weeping and sighing of the weak, who call on him for succor; especially when the weak can attribute to the strong all his troubles and the decadence of his nation."
This language of Little Walker is not without eloquence. How say you?