“Is this Chataldja?” I asked innocently.
“It is the end of your affair,” he said haughtily. “Quick, or it will be the worse for you.”
“Now, look here, my son,” I said; “you’re a kid and know nothing. I hand over to General von Oesterzee and to no one else.”
“You are in Turkey,” he cried, “and will obey the Turkish Government.”
“I’ll obey the Government right enough,” I said; “but if you’re the Government I could make a better one with a bib and a rattle.”
He said something to his men, who unslung their rifles.
“Please don’t begin shooting,” I said. “There are twelve armed guards in this train who will take their orders from me. Besides, I and my friend can shoot a bit.”
“Fool!” he cried, getting very angry. “I can order up a regiment in five minutes.”
“Maybe you can,” I said; “but observe the situation. I am sitting on enough toluol to blow up this countryside. If you dare to come aboard I will shoot you. If you call in your regiment I will tell you what I’ll do. I’ll fire this stuff, and I reckon they’ll be picking up the bits of you and your regiment off the Gallipoli Peninsula.”
He had put up a bluff—a poor one—and I had called it. He saw I meant what I said, and became silken.