Still erect, and lowering only the muzzle of his pistol, as a thin feather of smoke curled up its shining side, he saw the doctor and seconds run quickly to the heap, try to lift its limp impotence into shape, and let it drop again with the words, "Right through the forehead, by G-d!" "You've done for him," said the deputy, turning to Clarence with a singular look of curiosity, "and I reckon you had better get out of this mighty quick.

They didn't expect it; they're just ragin'; they may round on you--and"-- he added, more slowly, "they seem to have just found out who you are." Even while he was speaking, Clarence, with his quickened ear, heard the words, "One of Hamilton Brant's pups" "Just like his father," from the group around the dead man.

He did not hesitate, but walked coolly towards them.

Yet a certain fierce pride--which he had never known before--stirred in his veins as their voices hushed and they half recoiled before him.
"Am I to understand from my second, gentlemen," he said, looking round the group, "that you are not satisfied ?" "The fight was square enough," said Pinckney's second in some embarrassment, "but I reckon that he," pointing to the dead man, "did not know who you were." "Do you mean that he did not know that I was the son of a man proficient in the use of arms ?" "I reckon that's about it," returned the second, glancing at the others.
"I am glad to say, sir, that I have a better opinion of his courage," said Clarence, lifting his hat to the dead body as he turned away.
Yet he was conscious of no remorse, concern, or even pity in his act.
Perhaps this was visible in his face, for the group appeared awed by this perfection of the duelist's coolness, and even returned his formal parting salutation with a vague and timid respect.

He thanked the deputy, regained the hotel, saddled his horse and galloped away.
But not towards the Rancho.