Let your horses follow.

For I intend that you four shall carry home your master in your arms, on foot.

Now forward to the corral by the back trail.

Disobey me, or step out of line and"-- He raised the revolver ominously.
If the change wrought in the dead man before them was weird and terrifying, no less distinct and ominous was the change that, during the last few minutes, had come over the living speaker.

For it was no longer the youthful Clarence who sat there, but a haggard, prematurely worn, desperate-looking avenger, lank of cheek, and injected of eye, whose white teeth glistened under the brown mustache and thin pale lips that parted when his restrained breath now and then hurriedly escaped them.
As the procession moved on, two men slunk behind with the horses.
"Mother of God! Who is this wolf's whelp ?" said Manuel.
"Hush!" said his companion in a terrified whisper.