Duane's eye ranged down the street, taking in all at a glance, particularly persons moving leisurely up and down.

Not a cowboy was in sight.

Duane slackened his stride, and by the time he reached Sol White's place, which was the first saloon, he was walking slowly.

Several people spoke to him and turned to look back after they had passed.

He paused at the door of White's saloon, took a sharp survey of the interior, then stepped inside.
The saloon was large and cool, full of men and noise and smoke.