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Although he did attempt most callously to slay me in my boots within half an hour of our ceasing the game, I will say that Quintal played dollar-limit poker like a gentleman. So also did the fat man; but as he rarely opened his lips except to raise or call, his agreeableness was more of a negative order.
Quintal, on the other hand, was as good a conversationalist as I've met--a trifle New Englandish, to be sure, but none the less entertaining. We were the only three passengers in the Pullman, and had fore-gathered in the smoking-room, where we doffed our coats in deference to the heat. Within three minutes from our meeting, Quintal had read a label on my grip-sack and proceeded to make himself known.
"My name's Hugh H. Quintal, sir. I see you are Mr. Calvert, and I guess from the Old Islands. Delighted to make your acquaintance. How do you like our country?"
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