General J. E. Johnston, the commander of the Confederate forces in
Georgia, at the head of forty-five thousand men, was intrenched at
Dalton, lying in wait for the advancing troops of Sherman, then
marching into this stronghold of the Confederacy from Chattanooga.
The last Confederate gunboat had been driven from the Mississippi and
the great basin of the south and west was safe in Union keeping.
The great strength of the South now was its inland armies, which were
fed by the granaries and supported by the factories of Georgia.
Here were the great grain growing prairies which afforded the
sustenance that an army requires.
In the heart of the state, the center of a net-work of manufacturing
cities and villages, was Atlanta, from which the army was supplied with
powder, shot--in fact, all the appurtenances of war.
Through Macon and Atlanta ran the great railroad lines between the
eastern and the western Confederacy.
Georgia then was the Confederate stronghold.
To rend it asunder from mountain to sea as had been done in the
Mississippi was the next work of the Northern troops.
The man called upon to undertake this herculian task was Sherman.
He had just performed his superb march of four hundred miles from
Vicksburg to Chattanooga and added to this another hundred miles to
Knoxville in season to relieve Burnside.
At the head of one hundred thousand men he was now at Ringgold, on the
other side of the mountain, in direct line with Dalton and Atlanta
biding his time of action.
To follow the fortunes of Cavalry Curt, however, we must go to the
Confederate headquarters.
On the afternoon of the same day that witnessed the scout’s capture,
General Johnston, in company with subordinate officers, was in his tent
busily examining a lot of charts and papers that lay before him.
“They are still impatient at Richmond for me to begin the offensive,”
said the commander after a pause, as he looked up from the documents,
and reading for the third time the latest dispatch from the Confederate
capital. “But I am no better prepared to do it than when I first
declined to do so last Christmas. Their plans look well enough on
paper, but put into actual practice must fail. Sherman’s army more
than double ours in number, and then he is fortified at the very apex
of the two entrances into Georgia. The moment that I advance on either
hand our rear is open to his attack. Once our supplies from Atlanta are
cut off, we are lost. No,” he continued thoughtfully, slowly shaking
his head, “I dare not take the risk. Our wisest course is to draw the
northern forces on as near to Atlanta as possible before we engage in
regular battle with them. I am anxious----”
He was interrupted in the midst of his speech by the sound of a body of
horsemen passing the tent.
“It is Captain Dermot’s scouting squad,” exclaimed one.
“And see, he has a prisoner,” added another. “I truly believe it is the
devil he went in quest of.”
“Orderly, here; stop Captain Dermot. I wish to speak to him.”
Captain Dermot, proud of his day’s work, was only too glad to meet his
superior, and he saluted him with an air of triumph.
“You have returned sooner than we expected, Captain Dermot. Whom have
you there?”
“Cavalry Curt, General Johnston.”
“Sherman’s spy?”
“The same, general. The identical person, too, who was in our midst
yesterday disguised as a Quaker farmer, and who made such a daring ride
for freedom.
“We tracked him to the mountain, and this morning succeeded in
effecting his capture, though I will say he is a good fighter.”
“You have done well, Captain Dermot, and nobly won the commission
promised you for his capture.”
“Many thanks, General Johnston,” replied the elated officer bowing low.
“And if I may be so bold I would recommend my friend, Sergeant Logan,
as deserving of favor. We owe our success in a great measure to him.”
“I will remember your suggestion, major,” giving the other for the
first time his new rank.
“So this is Cavalry Curt,” he continued, turning to the prisoner. “Ah,
you hardly look like the reckless dare-devil you have been pictured;
but from your present appearance I can see that you have been sorely
driven. I suppose you realize your situation.”
“Better perhaps than you, general,” replied Curt, speaking for the
first time, his cool, measured tone sending a thrill through the frames
of his listeners.
“You are too brave a man to belong to the cause you have espoused,”
continued the Confederate commander. “Let me give you a chance to see
yonder sun set.”
“General Johnston,” said the scout, quickly, comprehending the other’s
meaning, “I am brave enough to meet death but not brave enough to
betray my country.”
“My faith, but I like your appearance much. You shall have a commission
if----”
“Pardon me, general, but here is a dispatch for you and a courier
awaits your pleasure.”
The commander took the packet from his orderly’s hand, and with a
nervous hand broke the seal.
“Sherman’s army is on the move,” he muttered under his breath. “Thomas
is on a march to Buzzard’s Gap. At last the campaign has opened and the
time for more decisive action on our part has come. Colonel Markham,”
turning to one of his subordinates, “I leave the fate of the prisoner
in your hands. More important duties engage my attention. Have ten men
detailed from your regiment placed under charge of a competent officer
who shall see that the prisoner immediately meets the fate of a spy.
Remember, colonel, immediately; for we know not how soon we may be
obliged to move. Sherman has begun work.”
“I will see that your orders are carried out to the letter, general.”