GRANDMOTHER: The hill above the town? Silas'd rather sell me and the cat. SMITH: But what's he going to do with it? GRANDMOTHER: Maybe he's going to climb it once a week. SMITH: But if the development of the town demands its use-- GRANDMOTHER: (_smiling_) You the development of the town? SMITH: I represent it. This town has been growing so fast-- GRANDMOTHER: This town began to grow the day I got here. SMITH: You--you began it? GRANDMOTHER: My husband and I began it--and our baby Silas. SMITH: When was that? GRANDMOTHER: 1820, that was. SMITH: And--you mean you were here all alone? GRANDMOTHER: No, we weren't alone. We had the Owens ten miles down the river. SMITH: But how did you get here? GRANDMOTHER: Got here in a wagon, how do you s'pose? (_gaily_) Think we flew? SMITH: But wasn't it unsafe? GRANDMOTHER: Them set on safety stayed back in Ohio. SMITH: But one family! I should think the Indians would have wiped you out. GRANDMOTHER: The way they wiped us out was to bring fish and corn. We'd have starved to death that first winter hadn't been for the Indians. SMITH: But they were such good neighbours--why did you throw dish water at them? 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_)