I looked at the man with some attention. He came from the city I intended to visit, and perhaps he might give me some information.
He was a burly man of middle age, and, as I have said, well dressed, though a trifle loud. His hair was black, as was also his mustache, which he continually kept smoothing down with one hand. I did not like his looks particularly, nor his tone of voice. They reminded me strongly of some one, but whom I could not remember.
"You come from Chicago," I said. "I am going there."
"Is that so? Then we can travel together. I like to have some one going along, don't you?"
I felt like saying that that would depend on who the some one was, but thinking this would hardly be polite, I returned:&—
"I don't know. I've never travelled before."
"No? Well, it's fun at first, but you soon get tired of it. My name is Allen Price; what is yours?"
"Roger Strong."
"Glad to meet you." He extended his hand. "You're rather young to be travelling alone—that is, going a distance. Do you smoke? We'll go into the smoker and take it easy. I have some prime cigars."
"Thank you, I don't smoke."