“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.

After guard-mount the next morning I told Colonel Brown that I did not think I would require an escort for my visit, as the presence of a number of armed men in the Indian country would be sure to start the trouble it was our purpose to avoid, or to delay as long as possible.  The man who had driven me over was anxious to return at once, so I asked for a light spring-wagon and a team of mules.

“Wait an hour or two,” said the colonel, “and I’ll send the quartermaster to you.”

I waited, and he employed the time, as I afterward learned, in telegraphing to General Miles, to the Commissioner of Indian Affairs, to the Secretary of the Interior, and to President Harrison.  He informed all of them that I was there, insisting on going to Sitting Bull’s camp, and that such an errand would not only result in my death, but would precipitate the outbreak then brewing, and for which he was not at all prepared.  He besought all of them to instruct me to return to Mandan.

While he waited for replies to his dispatches I hunted about the camp for someone who knew just where Sitting Bull was located and how to get there.  I also wanted a first-class interpreter, as I would have matters to discuss with Sitting Bull beyond his mastery of English or mine of Sioux to express.  At last I found a man who agreed to go with me as guide for five hundred dollars, which I promised him without a protest.  Then I went over to the post-trader’s store and bought all manner of presents which I knew would be acceptable to Sitting Bull, his squaw, and his children.

When I returned to Colonel Brown’s quarters he endeavored once more to put me off.  But I would not be put off.  I informed him that I had explicit orders from General Miles as to my mission, and that if he interfered with me he was violating the orders of his commanding officer and running into very serious trouble.