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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386593" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The cattle thief</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">They were coming across the prairie, they were <br> galloping hard and fast; <br>For the eyes of those desperate riders had sighted <br> their man at last-- <br>Sighted him off to Eastward, where the Cree <br> encampment lay, <br>Where the cotton woods fringed the river, miles and <br> miles away. <br>Mistake him? Never! Mistake him? the famous <br> Eagle Chief! <br>That terror to all the settlers, that desperate Cattle <br> Thief-- <br>That monstrous, fearless Indian, who lorded it over <br> the plain, <br>Who thieved and raided, and scouted, who rode like <br> a hurricane! <br>But they've tracked him across the prairie; they've <br> followed him hard and fast; <br>For those desperate English settlers have sighted <br> their man at last. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Up they wheeled to the tepees, all their British <br> blood aflame, <br>Bent on bullets and bloodshed, bent on bringing <br> down their game; <br>But they searched in vain for the Cattle Thief: that <br> lion had left his lair, <br>And they cursed like a troop of demons--for the <br> women alone were there. <br>&quot;The sneaking Indian coward,&quot; they hissed; &quot;he <br> hides while yet he can; <br>He'll come in the night for cattle, but he's scared <br> to face a man.&quot; <br>&quot;Never!&quot; and up from the cotton woods rang the <br> voice of Eagle Chief; <br>And right out into the open stepped, unarmed, the <br> Cattle Thief. <br>Was that the game they had coveted? Scarce fifty <br> years had rolled <br>Over that fleshless, hungry frame, starved to the <br> bone and old; <br>Over that wrinkled, tawny skin, unfed by the <br> warmth of blood. <br>Over those hungry, hollow eyes that glared for the <br> sight of food. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">He turned, like a hunted lion: &quot;I know not fear,&quot; <br> said he; <br>And the words outleapt from his shrunken lips in <br> the language of the Cree. <br>&quot;I'll fight you, white-skins, one by one, till I <br> kill you all,&quot; he said; <br>But the threat was scarcely uttered, ere a dozen <br> balls of lead <br>Whizzed through the air about him like a shower <br> of metal rain, <br>And the gaunt old Indian Cattle Thief dropped <br> dead on the open plain. <br>And that band of cursing settlers gave one <br> triumphant yell, <br>And rushed like a pack of demons on the body that <br> writhed and fell. <br>&quot;Cut the fiend up into inches, throw his carcass <br> on the plain; <br>Let the wolves eat the cursed Indian, he'd have <br> treated us the same.&quot; <br>A dozen hands responded, a dozen knives gleamed <br> high, <br>But the first stroke was arrested by a woman's <br> strange, wild cry. <br>And out into the open, with a courage past <br> belief, <br>She dashed, and spread her blanket o'er the corpse <br> of the Cattle Thief; <br>And the words outleapt from her shrunken lips in <br> the language of the Cree, <br>&quot;If you mean to touch that body, you must cut <br> your way through me.&quot; <br>And that band of cursing settlers dropped <br> backward one by one, <br>For they knew that an Indian woman roused, was <br> a woman to let alone. <br>And then she raved in a frenzy that they scarcely <br> understood, <br>Raved of the wrongs she had suffered since her <br> earliest babyhood: <br>&quot;Stand back, stand back, you white-skins, touch <br> that dead man to your shame; <br>You have stolen my father's spirit, but his body I <br> only claim. <br>You have killed him, but you shall not dare to <br> touch him now he's dead. <br>You have cursed, and called him a Cattle Thief, <br> though you robbed him first of bread-- <br>Robbed him and robbed my people--look there, at <br> that shrunken face, <br>Starved with a hollow hunger, we owe to you and <br> your race. <br>What have you left to us of land, what have you <br> left of game, <br>What have you brought but evil, and curses since <br> you came? <br>How have you paid us for our game? how paid us <br> for our land? <br>By a book, to save our souls from the sins you <br> brought in your other hand. <br>Go back with your new religion, we never have <br> understood <br>Your robbing an Indian's body, and mocking his <br> soul with food. <br>Go back with your new religion, and find--if find <br> you can-- <br>The honest man you have ever made from out a <br> starving man. <br>You say your cattle are not ours, your meat is not <br> our meat; <br>When you pay for the land you live in, we'll pay <br> for the meat we eat. <br>Give back our land and our country, give back our <br> herds of game; <br>Give back the furs and the forests that were ours <br> before you came; <br>Give back the peace and the plenty. Then come <br> with your new belief, <br>And blame, if you dare, the hunger that drove him to <br> be a thief.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Emily+Pauline+Johnson">Emily Pauline Johnson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=386593" data-title="The cattle thief de Emily Pauline Johnson" data-description="They were coming across the prairie, they were 
 galloping hard and fast; 
For the eyes of those desperate riders had sighted 
 their man at last-- 
Sighted him off to Eastward, where the Cree 
 encampment lay, 
Where the cotton woods fringed the ..."></div>
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