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.”