There was an Indian who had once been driven out of a fertile valley by a White Settler, said:
"Now that you have robbed me of my land, there is nothing for me to do but issue invitations to a war-dance."
"I don't so much mind your dancing," said the White Settler, putting a fresh cartridge into his rifle, "but if you attempt to make me dance you will become a good Indian lamented by all who didn't know you. How did you get this land, anyhow?"
Moral: The Indian's claim was compromised for a plug hat and a tin horn.