“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.