His large frame seemed boneless, and, except for the cerements of his mud-stiffened clothing, was limp and sodden.
Clarence raised his head suddenly from a quick examination of the body, and looked at the men around him.

One of them was already cantering away.

Clarence instantly threw himself on his horse, and, putting spurs to the animal, drew a revolver from his holster and fired over the man's head.

The rider turned in his saddle, saw his pursuer, and pulled up.
"Go back," said Clarence, "or my next shot won't MISS you." "I was only going to inform the senora," said the man with a shrug and a forced smile.
"I will do that," said Clarence grimly, driving him back with him into the waiting circle; then turning to them he said slowly, with deliberate, smileless irony, "And now, my brave gentlemen,--knights of the bull and gallant mustang hunters,--I want to inform YOU that I believe that Mr.Peyton was MURDERED, and if the man who killed him is anywhere this side of hell, I intend to find him.

Good! You understand me! Now lift up the body,--you two, by the shoulders; you two, by the feet.