Johnston in fortifying himself at Dalton had not overlooked the
possible need of an avenue of retreat or removal to some other position.
Accordingly he had repaired the roads leading into the different
quarters of the surrounding country; and wherever his astute mind had
deemed it expedient he had opened new passages.
This enabled him to move about with facility, divide or unite his
forces as he choose, and made his capture more difficult.
In the whole history of the war we know of no instance where two
officers were so evenly and squarely pitted against each other as
far as individual characteristics were concerned as were Sherman and
Johnston.
Either was as well prepared for the defeat of his plans as for their
success, nor did victory unduly elate him.
Each had an eye to his surroundings and was continually calling into
acquisition the advantage offered by the surface of the country.
The march to Reseca was performed with the ease and rapidity that
marked the Confederate commander’s entire campaign.
Cavalry Curt, we remember, had actually entered the rebel ranks, and
leaving Mara Morland in her grief and hopeless condition we must, in
order to keep along with the occurrence of events, turn to narrate the
scout’s checkered fortunes.
Warned of Sherman’s premeditated attack by McPherson upon Reseca under
cover of an assault in Buzzard Roost led by Thomas, and Schofield’s
march toward Dalton, Johnston had on the fifteenth of May ordered
Canty’s cavalry to that place.
Soon after its arrival this skirmishing brigade had become engaged with
the advance columns of the Northern troops to be driven back.
McPherson thus unexpectedly met by the foe, whom he had hoped to find
asleep, halted.
Thus the two forces were looking and waiting for each other to move,
neither knowing the other’s strength, when on the evening of the ninth
three divisions of Johnston’s infantry marched to the succor of the
threatened town.
The arrival of the re-inforcements was the signal for rejoicing, and
plans were quickly laid for more hostile movements.
That the enemy’s position and actual resources as to numbers, armament,
etc., might be more definitely known a squad of six under one
Lieutenant Boggs was detailed to reconnoiter the field.
Cavalry Curt to his infinite satisfaction was one of the scouts.
Once outside the picket line the scouts moved cautiously, yet swiftly
forward, the sense of each man strained to catch the least sound or to
detect the slightest movement upon the night scene.
The sky was overcast with a thin lining of clouds, so that it was quite
dark in the deeper forests. In a couple of hours the moon would rise to
dispel somewhat the gloom.
As silently as so many shadows the little party threaded the dim aisle
of the valley lying on the west of the town.
Not a word was spoken and nothing was heard to alarm them, until at
last they stood at the edge of a clearing of several acres in extent.
Lieutenant Boggs motioning a halt, they paused under the shadows of the
trees.
“I have an idea the Yanks are off to the right,” he said, speaking for
the first time.
“More’n likely,” assented one of the others.
Cavalry Curt started at the sound of the last speaker’s voice. He
was too well schooled in his self-possession, however, to betray any
surprise, though he improved the first opportunity to get a good,
square look at the man.
He had recognized the tone as that of one whom he had at one time known.
The countenance was that of the person.
He had at one time belonged to Kearney’s cavalry, but had disappeared
very suddenly and was supposed to have been killed.
Curt’s most natural conclusion was that he was acting a part as well as
himself.
Though altered in appearance since their last meeting he felt certain
the other would recognize him as soon as he should get a fair view of
his face.
Always careful to be on the safe side the spy resolved not to discover
his identity to the other, but to maintain a careful watch over himself.
He could not help feeling that the man had deserted the Union cause.
In that case his own position was a critical one.
“Don’t believe but we had better go round the clearing,” declared
Lieutenant Boggs. “I kalkilate we have got to look mighty sharp, for we
are likely to run on the Yanks at any step. Foller me.”
With this terse command he led the way through the forest, the others
following closely upon his heels in Indian fashion.
They had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile in this way, when Lieutenant
Boggs paused abruptly.
Bending his head forward in a listening attitude, after a minute’s
anxious wait, he said:
“I though I heard some step. But I must have been mistaken. Isn’t that
a building over yonder on the swell?”
“I should say so,” replied one of his companions.
“I have a mind to go up there.”
“My eye has been on that pine tree for some time. What a view one could
get from its top! Let’s go up a little nearer anyway.”
They soon came in plain sight of a large, old-fashioned farm-house with
outbuildings adjoining, the whole looking deserted and sadly out of
repair.
The buildings stood on the crest of quite an eminence of land.
On one side reaching nearly down to the woods where they were concealed
extended a line of dense shrubbery.
A short distance from the house, its dark, gigantic branches
overhanging the roof was a huge pine towering far above any other tree
in the vicinity.
It was this tree Lieutenant Boggs wished to reach, knowing that from
its summit he could look down upon a wide circle of the surrounding
country.
Without losing any time he swiftly, yet silently advanced toward the
forsaken buildings, being careful to keep under the cover of the trees.
His followers closely imitated his example, and a few minutes later,
without having met with any renewed cause of alarm, they gained the
summit.
Under the giant pine Lieutenant Boggs ordered a halt.
“One of us had better climb the tree. If I mistake not, from its top
the camp of the Yanks will be in plain view. You are the man to do
it,” he concluded, turning to Cavalry Curt.
The words in themselves were innocent enough, but they were no sooner
spoken than the scout instantly interpreted a double meaning.
He saw Lieutenant Boggs and the deserter exchange significant glances,
and all at once it flashed through his mind that his identity had been
discovered!
He had been betrayed!
It was evidently a part of the plans of his foes to get him into the
tree, where he would be at their mercy.
A hurried glance around showed that there was no way for him to escape.
He must either climb the tree or refuse to obey the order. In the
latter case he would only hasten the crisis without bringing any
especial benefit to himself.
He was in a tight place.