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Flynn starts things off with a bang by swinging himself feet first through the window of a stagecoach to exchange amenities with beautiful Alexis Smith. Like most lovely ladies in current Westerns, she is on her way to sing in a saloon. The saloon is full of Errol's enemies. The shooting starts when he hits town, and doesn't stop until he has killed one villain on an ink-blue night in the Alamo and smashed another's head against a rock.
The picture's musicomic extravagance is spiced with good details: a jaunty Mexican boy who makes his way across the street in the sun; a cat that drinks hard liquor from a jigger on the bar; a Southern-accented parrot that drawls "How y'all?"; an upright piano that slides downstairs during a barroom brawl.
The rattle of gunfire does not seem to disturb Alexis Smith, who saunters detachedly through the proceedings in sleekly cut satin, singing pink-gingham songs. Flynn, looking less like a cowboy than a romantic adventurer, swaggers along in the steps of the elder Fairbanks, sometimes two at a time.