If it was General Johnston’s aim to draw the Northern troops as near as
possible to Atlanta before engaging in the culminating battle, General
Sherman, on the other hand, was equally as anxious to meet his foe at
an early day and as far from the Confederate arsenal as it might be.
Could he shatter Johnston’s army, as he felt confident of doing, his
march to the sea would be simply a “walk over.”
The great mountain system of East Tennessee outstretched like a giant
arm into the heart of the Confederacy.
Leaving Chattanooga, the natural bastion on the lines of the Georgian
communication, Sherman paused at Ringgold, and from this place
inaugurated his grand strategic movement.
Through Rocky Face Mountain from the latter place ran a narrow ravine
affording the only passage to the eastern valley, on the one hand, and
along whose rocky bottom wound the highway and railroad to Dalton.
At the mouth of this valley, called Buzzard’s Roost Gap, Johnston had
erected strong defenses by planting his batteries on the rocky spurs of
the mountain sides. To make his position doubly certain he had flooded
the ravine by dams in the creek.
This position but illustrated Johnston’s entire situation, and
Sherman’s practical eye saw that to drive him from his craggy citadel
he must make a detour to the south and cut off his communication with
Atlanta.
This task was assigned to McPherson.
Thomas meanwhile, to hold the Confederates’ attention in that
direction, was to actually storm Buzzard’s Gap.
Schofield was to march against the enemy’s right flank thus adding to
the deception of Thomas’ attack.
The purpose in view, however, was for McPherson to reach Reseca, a
place about twenty miles south of Dalton, and there fall upon the
railroad thus cutting off the Confederate’s supplies.
Intrenching himself there McPherson was to wage war upon Johnston in
flank until he would be obliged to turn to grapple with him, when the
rear would be open to Thomas and Schofield.
Johnston had received intelligence of the contemplated attack on
Buzzard’s Gap as has been shown. Sherman’s real intentions were as yet
unknown to him.
We have been thus particular in stating the situation to show the
importance of Mara Morland’s mission to Johnston’s quarters on that
evening.
“Well, what is your business, sir?” asked General Johnston, without
looking up from the chart that he was examining, as Mara in her
disguise stood before him.
“Important, sir, if I mistake not. I am the bearer of a message from
Boyd Wyman.”
“Boyd Wyman!” exclaimed the general quickly looking up. “Where is he?”
“At the home of Colonel Morland, sir. He is wounded and could not come.”
“So that accounts for his continued absence. I sent him to learn if
possible Sherman’s projected plans. I had began to fear that some
mischance had overtaken him.”
“He barely escaped with his life, sir; and reached our place this
morning unable to go further. Here are the papers, sir, he requested me
to hand you.”
General Johnston eagerly took the packet and tearing it open was soon
perusing its contents.
Mara saw his countenance change as he read on, and the hand that held
the paper trembled.
“Well, well,” he broke forth, at last, “this puts a new phase on the
matter. Had I known this an hour earlier my plans would have been laid
differently. But better late than never. We have time enough to reach
there. Mr. Morland, for that is the name Wyman gives you, you have done
us a great service. Any favor I can do you?”
“I would like a pass, sir, so that I can return home.”
“Certainly, and bear my good wishes to Wyman.”
“Thank you. And--and if it is not asking too much,” stammered Mara, “I
would like permission to visit Curtis Remington, the captive spy.”
Her heart seemed to stop its beating as she waited for his reply.
The general looked up with a frown.
“I don’t know about that. He was to have been shot at sunset, but some
one blundered. Do you know him?”
“I knew him at one time.”
“I see no harm in granting your request, and in consideration of the
service you have done us, I will.”
Seizing pen and paper he began to hurriedly write.
“Your full name, please.”
“Mara Morland.”
She could have bitten her tongue out for giving utterance to the name.
But it was just as well. “Mara” seemed as appropriate for a man as a
woman.
“There you are,” declared the commander, handing her two slips of
paper; “good-evening.”
Glad to get away so easy, she passed out of the tent.
Johnston, now familiar with the enemy’s plans, immediately held a
council with some of his subordinate officers.
Leaving him to prepare for a meeting with McPherson at Reseca we will
follow the fortunes of Mara Morland.
The uppermost thought in her mind now was to rescue Cavalry Curt.
No one knew better than she the peril of the undertaking, and a less
brave heart would have shrunk from the attempt.
But one course seemed open to her and she resolved to carry it out.
It was too early in the night, however, for the work to be begun so
she sauntered toward her brother’s tent, watchful of all that was
transpiring around her.
Passing one of the camp-fires she heard loud voices, and coupled with
other names she fancied she heard her own.
Advancing in a listless manner she got within hearing without
attracting attention.
The party was composed of a portion of Captain Dermot’s scouting squad.
She saw Lieutenant Logan, easily distinguished by his long, flaxen hair
among them.
He was speaking.
She held her breath at the sound of his voice.
“Yes, she is true grit every time. I admired her spunk and I didn’t
like her course of action.”
“Think she is spoony on the Yank?”
“Looks like it. But I tell you those Morlands are going to get into
trouble, if they ain’t already, over that spy. The captain’s course
this afternoon was shameful.”
“S’pose they’ll shoot the spy in the morning?”
“Of course; and I should like the job. Reckon they wouldn’t find me a
Freemason--ha--ho! That’s the best joke I have heard lately.”
“Is it true the colonel has sent a man up to old Morland’s?”
“Yes; he smells a rat somewhere. Leastways the major does, and he has
put him up to it.”
“By the way, the captain fills his new rank well.”
Hearing nothing more of interest to her, Mara finally turned away to
seek Captain Morland’s tent.