Well, it was the same way with the war
of 1832.
SMITH: (_who is now seated at the table_) The war of 1832?
GRANDMOTHER: News to you that we had a war with the Indians?
SMITH: That's right--the Blackhawk war. I've heard of it.
GRANDMOTHER: Heard of it!
SMITH: Were your men in that war?
GRANDMOTHER: I was in that war. I threw an Indian in the cellar and
stood on the door. I was heavier then.
SMITH: Those were stirring times.
GRANDMOTHER: More stirring than you'll ever see. This war--Lincoln's
war--it's all a cut and dried business now. We used to fight with
anything we could lay hands on--dish water--whatever was handy.
SMITH: I guess you believe the saying that the only good Indian is a
dead Indian.
GRANDMOTHER: I dunno. We roiled them up considerable. They was mostly
friendly when let be. Didn't want to give up their land--but I've
noticed something of the same nature in white folks.
SMITH: Your son has--something of that nature, hasn't he?
GRANDMOTHER: He's not keen to sell. Why should he? It'll never be worth
less.
SMITH: But since he has more land than any man can use, and if he gets
his price--
GRANDMOTHER: That what you've come to talk to him about?
SMITH: I--yes.
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