Desperate, hard men, who had used their bodily strength to conquer the elements and to build up their herds, as mine-owners use machinery to crush the gold out of the ore.
For this war of the sheep against the cattle was a common war, and it was to be fought to a finish in that country.
So that was what Walt was waiting for, thought Whitey as he looked into the living-room from a crack in the office door, held slightly ajar.

Had Whitey been in a criminal court during the last appeal of opposing counsel, he would have seen in the jury box no more thoughtful, set, and determined faces than those assembled in that ranch-house room.
The decision this court reached was: to catch the culprits and hang them; to drive their sheep over the hills into the deepest canyons to die by thousands; to hunt out the hiding owners, and let Colt guns be both judge and jury.

Merciless and hard it seems, doesn't it?
But those were merciless and hard days, when "only the strong survived." "There's just one man I ever knowed who could do this work right," Walt Lampson said.

"The greatest two-handed man with a gun that ever was born, an' a fool jury sent him to the pen, five years ago, for brandin' a few calves." "You mean Mart Cooley," said another ranchman.

"There was only one of him.