A buffalo gun roared down by the plaza and several Sharps cracked a protest from different points.

The town had awakened and the shots were dropping steadily.
Strange noises filled the air.

They grew in tone and volume and then dwindled away to nothing.

The hum of the buffalo gun and the sobbing pi-in-in-ing of the Winchesters were liberally mixed with the sharp whines of the revolvers.
There were no windows in the hotel now.

Raw furrows in the bleached wood showed yellow, and splinters mysteriously sprang from the casings.