An' Jean fought an' lived long enough just to be that last man." At length Jean was left alone with his father.
"Reckon you're used to bunkin' outdoors ?" queried the rancher, rather abruptly.
"Most of the time," replied Jean.
"Wal, there's room in the house, but I want you to sleep out.

Come get your beddin' an' gun.

I'll show you." They went outside on the porch, where Jean shouldered his roll of tarpaulin and blankets.

His rifle, in its saddle sheath, leaned against the door.

His father took it up and, half pulling it out, looked at it by the starlight.