Floyd was at the head of them.
Forrest, the great cavalry leader, was also there with his horsemen.
The fort was crowded with defenders, but the slack Pillow did not yet
send forward anybody to see what Grant was doing, although he was only
twenty miles away.
All eyes were now turned upon the west. The center of action had
suddenly shifted from Kentucky to Tennessee. The telegraph was young
yet, but it was busy. It carried many varying reports to the cities
North and South. The name of this new man, Grant, spelled trouble.
People were beginning to talk much about him, and already some suspected
that there was more in the back of his head than in those of far better
known and far more pretentious northern generals in the east. None at
least could dispute the fact that he was now the one whom everybody was
watching.
But the Southern people, few of whom knew the disparity of numbers,
had the fullest confidence in the brilliant Johnston. He was more than
twenty years older than his antagonist, but his years had brought only
experience and many triumphs, not weakness of either mind or body.
At his right hand was the swarthy and confident Beauregard, great with
the prestige of Bull Run, and Hardee, Bragg, Breckinridge and Polk.
And there were many brilliant colonels, too, foremost among whom was
George Kenton.
A tremor passed through the North when it was learned that Grant
intended to plunge into the winter forest, cross the Cumberland, and
lay siege to Donelson.
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