I want you to remember the days of Umatilla as the days of corn and maize and the pipes of peace.

I have given you all I have--my days are done.

You will respect me." There were mutterings everywhere, suppressed cries of rage, and sharp words of chagrin and disappointment.

The old chief saw the general dissatisfaction, and felt it like a crushing weight upon his soul.
"I am going to light the pipe of peace," said he, "and smoke it now before you.

As many of you as love Umatilla, light the pipes of peace." Not a light glimmered in the smoky air.