He went out and down the path toward the gate.
The air was full of the fragrance of blossoms and the melody of birds.
Outside in the road a neighbor woman stood talking to a countryman in a wagon; they spoke to him; and he heard, but did not reply.

Then he began to stride down the road toward the town.
Wellston was a small town, but important in that unsettled part of the great state because it was the trading-center of several hundred miles of territory.

On the main street there were perhaps fifty buildings, some brick, some frame, mostly adobe, and one-third of the lot, and by far the most prosperous, were saloons.

From the road Duane turned into this street.

It was a wide thoroughfare lined by hitching-rails and saddled horses and vehicles of various kinds.