"Tell me about it—the war, I mean," I answered, my curiosity at once excited, as it always was concerning everything that had to do with Black Hawk.
"I've always thought the beginnin' of that trouble different from most wars," he answered, helping himself to a couple of slices of toast.
"Tell me about it; you have time while we're finishing our supper."
"Well, once upon a time, a great while ago," he began, "there was a beautiful Injun maiden called the Red Rose. She was the belle of the Sac Nation, an' lived in the Injun village overlookin' the Rock an' the Mississippi, where her people had been nigh on a hundred years. Her eyes were like a limpid spring in the dark woods, an' all the young warriors were her lovers, for there was none like her for modesty an' attractive ways. She was as purty as a wild-flower, an' a great dancer, an' fleet of foot as the coyote, an' gentle as the cooin' dove. Her father's name was Standin' Bear, an' a fierce old warrior an' hunter he was, but sometimes given to strong drink when greatly tempted. Well, at that time, along about 1800, the early French settlers livin' on Cuvier River (which is French for Copper), bein' friv'lous an' fond of dancin', as people are now, gave a great ball, an' white women bein' scarce, the Injuns were told to bring their squaws. So to please her, Standin' Bear took Red Rose to the party. Whisky was plenty, as it always is at such places, an' while Red Rose danced an' was happy, thinkin' no harm, Standin' Bear drunk more'n he should, an' while in that state a white man insulted his daughter in a way no one could overlook; but when Standin' Bear sought to punish the brute, he was knocked down an' dragged out by the scalp-lock, an' given a kick besides. This no white man nor Injun could endure; but Standin' Bear, not havin' any redress, waited till the man come out after the ball was over, when he fell on him with a fierce cry an' killed him. You'll say it was murder, but it was the Injuns' way, an' without fuss or scarin' of women. A white man would have gone swaggerin' an' cussin' into the room an' shot the feller, an' everybody'd said it served him right. That's the difference between the two, an' one's as bad as the other. After he'd killed the man, Standin' Bear fled with Red Rose to their village, travelin' day an' night till they were safe."
"Then what happened?"
"What always happens when an Injun kills a white man," Blott went on, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Word was sent to the gov'nor at St. Louis, an' soldiers were hurried off to demand Standin' Bear's surrender. This bein' done, they took him to St. Louis, where he was to be hung, but on the advice of Black Hawk, Quashquamme, the great chief of the Sacs, went down to see if he couldn't save Standin' Bear, who was some kin to him. When he got to St. Louis he found white men didn't settle differences of that kind by acceptin' money or property outright, as the Injuns do. While waitin' he fell in with a man named Shoto, an old fur trader, who, knowin' the Sacs to be reliable Injuns, volunteered to supply the chief an' his companions with what they wanted. In this way he got the Injun in debt about two thousand dollars, for a lot of truck hardly worthy carryin' off. Then Shoto, to get his money, proposed that the Sacs an' Foxes sell their land to the government, an' this is what come about in the end. It was agreed that Standin' Bear should be freed, an' the Injuns git a sum of money every year, which, of course, they didn't git, that bein' the government's way of treatin' Injuns. Well, at the appointed time the prison door was thrown open an' Standin' Bear walked out, Red Rose bein' a little way apart waitin' for him. As he hurried toward her, an' she stood with her arms outstretched, there was the crack of a rifle, an' Standin' Bear dropped dead at her feet. At this she uttered a piercin' cry, an' fell beside him. Her companions, runnin' up, carried her off, thinkin' she was dead; an' while she come to, she was never the same as before, but sick of mind like, an' believin' her father was come, she'd hold out her arms, sayin': 'You didn't believe the pale faces, but I knew they'd keep their word,' an' this the poor thing would repeat over an' over a thousand times a day, smilin' an' holdin' out her hands plaintive-like. When she got some strength, Standin' Bear's companions took his body an' Red Rose in their canoes an' carried them to the Injun village, where, as I said, the two rivers, the tumblin' Rock an' the Mississippi join their waters; an' here they buried the old chief with the dead of his tribe. So you see the whites kept their word about freein' Standin' Bear, an' broke it, too."
"I should say so, and with a vengeance!" I cried, ashamed that my race should do so treacherous a thing. "Then what happened?"
"Nothin', for he was only an Injun."
"Did that bring on the war?"
"Yes, through the debt of old Shoto's and the treaty follerin' it."