"Now," he shouted at the peach can joyously, "yu wait about thirty minutes an' yu'll shore reckon Hades has busted loose!" He grabbed up his Colts, which he kept loaded for repelling rushes, and recklessly emptied them into the bushes and between the rocks and trees, searching every likely place for a human target.

Then he slipped his rifle in a loophole and waited for good shots, having worked off the dangerous pressure of his exuberance.
Soon he heard a yell from the direction of the "Miner's Rest," and fell to jamming cartridges into his revolvers so that he could sally out and join in the fray by the side of Red.
The thunder of madly pounding hoofs rolled up the trail, and soon a horse and rider shot around the corner and headed for the copse.

Three more raced close behind and then a bunch of six, followed by the rest, spread out and searched for trouble.
Red, a Colt in each hand and hatless, stood up in his stirrups and sent shot after shot into the fleeing mob, which he could not follow on account of the nature of the ground.

Buck wheeled and dashed down the trail again with Red a close second, the others packed in a solid mass and after them.

At the first level stretch the newcomers swept down and hit their enemies, going through them like a knife through cheese.
Hopalong danced up and down with rage when he could not find his horse, and had to stand and yell, a spectator.
The fight drifted in among the buildings, where it became a series of isolated duels, and soon Hopalong saw panic-stricken horses carrying their riders out of the other side of the town.