To leave a fortune! No, I won't.

No, by God!" He drew Cribbens's Winchester toward him and slipped a cartridge into the magazine.
"No," he growled.

"Whatever happens, I'm going to stay.

If anybody comes--" He depressed the lever of the rifle, and sent the cartridge clashing into the breech.
"I ain't going to sleep," he muttered under his mustache.

"I can't sleep; I'll watch." He rose a second time, clambered to the nearest hilltop and sat down, drawing the blanket around him, and laying the Winchester across his knees.