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another?  My tribe never killed a white man.  There is not one drop of white blood on the hand of any Ponca.  The bones of several hundred of my young men lie bleaching on the plains of South Dakota, who lost their lives in defending the poor white men of Nebraska who live near the Sioux.  I come from that far away country to ask justice for my people.  I knew nothing of your ways, but I see that you are a great people.  I have been thinking what made you great.

"My friend and I got on the cars at Omaha and we rode all night and nearly all day faster than any horse could run.  We came to a great city.  My friend took me to the top of a very high house.  On one side there was water, but on all the other sides there were houses and houses as far as I could see.  Then we rode a day and a night more and he took me to the top of a hill and as far as I could see in every direction there were houses and houses.  Then we rode a day more and we came to a great river, we went across it in a boat.  It was night.  We rode a long way in a carriage, and on wither side there were houses and houses.  The we came here and the Governor took me to the top of a big council house, where your own chiefs meet to