Man with No Name- Tequila Storeroom Escape

“The gringo is still asleep, I imagine,” Chico said as he entered the storeroom, holding open the door for Vincente. “That’s all right. I’ll enjoy waking him up.”

Vincente came inside and looked around, grinning, as Chico turned to close and bolt the door from inside.

In the loft, the stranger, calling upon a reserve of strength, rolled a barrel level with the head of the chute and then pushed it over the edge. As it started to hurtle down Chico and Vincente turned in alarm at the sudden noise, stood for a moment in horror as they saw the big barrel rushing towards them. Then, as it gained speed with its own momentum they tried to jump clear. But both chose to go in opposite directions, collided and fell in a tangle of arms and legs.

Chico cursed and Vincente screamed. Then both shrieked their pain as the barrel came clear of the end of the chute at tremendous speed and smashed into their tangled bodies, crashing them back against the door, covering them with tequila as the wood smashed open.
...

While the Rojo gang was thus engaged, the Man With No Name emerged from his hiding place, glided across to the doorway, tore his watchful eye from Ramón to look down at the unconscious men, seeing the large pool of alcohol, growing larger by the second as it continued to trickle from the smashed barrel. A smile cracked the congealed blood around his lips as he drew a match from his hip pocket, struck it on the wall and dropped it into the liquid. It caught with a whoosh and flames leapt high.

Ramón spun, and the men on the ladder, those already in the loft, looked down in horror as the blaze, which had enveloped the bodies of Chico and Vincente, formed a barrier of flame in the doorway. They were in time to see the stranger plunge though the flames, to send a fusillade of pistol and rifle shots after his departing figure.

The Man With No Name ran in a crouch, was too low to be hit by any of the bullets. He emerged from the storehouse passageway and raked his eye over the courtyard, saw no sign of movement. Keeping close to the wall, he made off in a loping run, slowed when he spotted a man guarding the gate.

- A Fistful of Dollars novel, chapter 18