He was of the West, of the frontier, and beheld nothing unique in the scene.
Moreover, the purpose for which he was there overshadowed all else, left him indifferent to the noise, the jostling, drunken crowd.

Some he met who knew him and called his name, but he passed them with a word, and pressed his way forward.

At the hotel he mounted the steps and entered.

The office was in one corner of the bar-room.

The proprietor himself, a bald-headed Irishman, sat with feet cocked up on the counter, smoking, and barely glancing up as the Sergeant asked for Mrs.Dupont.
"Who are yer ?" he asked.
"My name is Hamlin; I am here on the lady's invitation." "Sure; thet 's ther name all right, me bhoy.