Such was my love for the whites that my countrymen pointed as they passed and said: 'Logan is the friend of the white man.' I had even thought to have lived with you but for the injuries of one man, Colonel Cresop, who, last spring, in cold blood and unprovoked, murdered all the relatives of Logan, not even sparing my women and children.

There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature.
This called upon me for vengeance.

I have sought it: I have killed many; I have glutted my vengeance.

For my country I will rejoice at the beams of peace.

But do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear.