east of the
Missouri being vastly in the majority, neither were the garrisons
relieved nor the reinforcements sent. What was worse, John Folsom's
urgent advice that they discontinue at once all work at Warrior Gap and
send the troops and laborers back to Reno was pooh-poohed.

"The contracts have been let and signed. The material is all on its way.
We can't hack out now," said the officials. "Send runners to Red Cloud
and get him in for a talk. Promise him lots of presents. Yes, if he must
have them, tell him he shall have breech-loaders and copper cartridges,
like the soldiers--to shoot buffalo with, of course. Promise him pretty
much anything to be good and keep his hands off a little longer till we
get that fort and the new agency buildings finished, and then let him do
what he likes."

Such were the instructions given the commissioners and interpreters
hurried through Gate City and Frayne, and on up to Reno just within the
limit fixed by Folsom. Red Cloud and his chiefs came in accordingly,
arrayed in pomp, paint and finery; shook hands grimly with the
representatives of the Great Father, critically scanned the proffered
gifts, disdainfully rejected the muzzle-loading rifles and old dragoon
horse-pistols heaped before him. "Got heap better," was his comment, and
nothing but brand new breech-loaders would serve his purpose. Promise
them and he'd see what could be done to restrain his young men. But they
were "pretty mad," he said, and couldn't be relied upon to keep the
peace unless sure of getting better arms and ammunition to help them
break it next time. It was only temporizing. It was only encouraging the
veteran war-chief in his visions of power and control. The commissioners
came back beaming, "Everything satisfactorily arranged. Red Cloud and
his people are only out for a big hunt." But officers whose wives and
children prayed fearfully at night within the puny wooden stockades, and
listened trembling to the howls and tom-toms of the dancing Indians
around the council fires in the neighboring valleys, wished to heaven
they had left those dear ones in safety at their Eastern homes--wished
to heaven they could send them thither now, but well knew that it was
too late. Only as single spies, riding by night, hiding by day, were
couriers able to get through from the Big Horn to the Platte. Of scouts
and soldiers sent at different times since the middle of May, seven were
missing, and never, except through vague b