GRANDMOTHER:  That was after other white folks had roiled them up—­white folks that didn’t know how to treat ’em.  This very land—­land you want to buy—­was the land they loved—­Blackhawk and his Indians.  They came here for their games.  This was where their fathers—­as they called ’em—­were buried.  I’ve seen my husband and Blackhawk climb that hill together. (a backward point right) He used to love that hill—­Blackhawk.  He talked how the red man and the white man could live together.  But poor old Blackhawk—­what he didn’t know was how many white man there was.  After the war—­when he was beaten but not conquered in his heart—­they took him east—­Washington, Philadelphia, New York—­and when he saw the white man’s cities—­it was a different Indian came back.  He just let his heart break without ever turning a hand.

SMITH:  But we paid them for their lands. (she looks at him) Paid them something.

GRANDMOTHER:  Something.  For fifteen million acres of this Mississippi Valley land—­best on this globe, we paid two thousand two hundred and thirty-four dollars and fifty cents, and promised to deliver annually goods to the value of one thousand dollars.  Not a fancy price—­even for them days, (children’s voices are heard outside.  She leans forward and looks through the door, left) Ira!  Let that cat be!

SMITH:  (looking from the window) These, I suppose, are your grandchildren?

GRANDMOTHER:  The boy’s my grandson.  The little girl is Madeline Fejevary—­Mr Fejevary’s youngest child.

SMITH:  The Fejevary place adjoins on this side? (pointing right, down)

GRANDMOTHER:  Yes.  We’ve been neighbours ever since the Fejevarys came here from Hungary after 1848.  He was a count at home—­and he’s a man of learning.  But he was a refugee because he fought for freedom in his country.  Nothing Silas could do for him was too good.  Silas sets great store by learning—­and freedom.

SMITH:  (thinking of his own project, looking off toward the hill—­the hill is not seen from the front) I suppose then Mr Fejevary has great influence with your son?

GRANDMOTHER:  More ’an anybody.  Silas thinks ’twas a great thing for our family to have a family like theirs next place to.  Well—­so ’twas, for we’ve had no time for the things their family was brought up on.  Old Mrs Fejevary (with her shrewd smile)—­she weren’t stuck up—­but she did have an awful ladylike way of feeding the chickens.  Silas thinks—­oh, my son has all kinds of notions—­though a harder worker never found his bed at night.

SMITH:  And Mr Fejevary—­is he a veteran too?