The name of Carlisle flashed through Watson’s mind. He recalled that it was somewhere in the part of Kentucky in which Fleming County was situated. A man he knew had once lived there. He would risk it.
“The nearest town is Carlisle,” he said shortly. “And now, Major, we really must be off! Good-bye!”
He started for the door, followed by George and Macgreggor, who were both devoutly wishing that such a state as Kentucky had never existed.
“Wait a second,” suddenly commanded the Southerner, stepping in front of the door to bar the way. “You seem to be strangely ignorant of your own county. Carlisle happens to be in the adjoining county.”
“Here, sir, we’re not here to be examined by you, as if we were in the witness box,” cried Watson, who hoped to carry the situation through with a strong hand. He would try a little bluster.
A sarcastic smile crossed the firm face of Major Lightfoot. “Don’t try to bluff me,” he said quietly but sternly; “for it won’t work. I see very clearly that you fellows have never been in Fleming County, nor do I think you have ever been in Kentucky at all, for the matter of that. You certainly talk more like Yankees than Kentuckians.”
“Then you don’t believe us?” asked Macgreggor, trying to assume an air of injured innocence.
“Certainly not,” answered the Major. He folded his arms, and regarded the visitors as if he were trying to read their inmost thoughts. “You are lying to me! And as you’ve lied to me about coming from Kentucky, it’s quite as likely you’ve lied to me about your being on your way to enlist in the Confederate army. For all I know you may be Union spies. In short, my friends, you are acting in the most suspicious way, and I put you under arrest!”
George’s heart sank within him. He was not afraid of being arrested, but to think that he might never take part in the bridge-burning expedition. Lightfoot turned the key in the door.
Watson walked up to the Major, and tapped him on the shoulder. “Look here,” he said, in the tone of a man who is quite sure of his position. “You talk about putting us under arrest, but you’re only playing a game of bluff yourself. We are three to your one—and I’d like to know what is to prevent our walking out of this house, and knocking you down, too—or, if you prefer, shooting you—if you attempt to stop us?”