Man with No Name- Blowing Up Craps Players

There were eight of them, making no attempt to conceal themselves. They were on the main trail into town, which curved around the edge of the wood. Two of their number were squatting on the ground, shooting craps while the others stood around them in a half circle, drinking tequila from two bottles which were passed around, and shouting encouragement to the participants in the dice game.

The Man With No Name stood watching the group for several seconds, then took a slim cigar from under his poncho, lit it and took two deep draws against it. Then he stepped forward and, without haste, moved from one tree trunk to the next, every one bringing him closer to the noisy men on the trail. He was within ten yards of them when he halted and took the stick of dynamite from under the poncho, drew deeply against the cigar until the fired end glowed bright red.

He touched the circle of hot ash to the short fuse on the dynamite, waited for five seconds and then tossed it towards the group, slithered behind the tree and pressed his back tightly against the rough bark.

The dynamite with its hissing fuse hit the ground, bounced once and landed between the two crap shooters just as one rolled a five and a six. The shouts of the delighted winners and groans of the losers were muted by surprise a moment before the explosion ripped the hot air asunder, scattering their limp and broken bodies over a wide circle.

The Man With No Name had to step over two torn and bloodied bodies as he headed towards the first house of the town.

- A Fistful of Dollars novel, chapter 22