Brown listened to my statement of
what I proposed and shook his head.
"I've heard of you, Cody, and of your nerve, but this is more than even
you can do. Sitting Bull's camp is forty miles away, and the country
between here and there is swarming with Indians all ready to go on the
warpath, and wholly beyond the sway of reason. I cannot permit you to
make this attempt."
"Do you hear, Cody?" said McLaughlin. "The only thing for you to do is
to stay all night with us and then return to the railroad. Even that
will be risky enough, even for you." "But go you must," added Brown.
"The Agency is under martial law, and I cannot permit you to remain any
longer than tomorrow morning."
There was no arguing with these men. So I resorted to my credentials.
Taking General Miles's card from my pocket, I laid it before Colonel
Brown.
"What does this mean?" he demanded, and passed the card to McLaughlin.
"It looks like orders," said McLaughlin.
"Yes," said Brown, "and I can't disobey them."
Just then Captain Fatchett, an old friend of mine, came into the
quarters, and Brown turned me over to him for entertainment until I
should formulate my plans for my visit to Sitting Bull. I had never
served with the Eighth Cavalry to which the companies at the Post
belonged, but I had many friends among the officers, and spent a very
pleasant afternoon and evening talking over old times, and getting
information about the present situation.
Pages:
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310