He was a spectator; one who saw other men being forced out of a trap to their deaths.

The arrows burned like tinder.
Whitey did not know that they were soaked in oil, brought along for the purpose of firing the house.
There had been no rain for a week, so the roof was dry, and soon narrow, snake-like lines of flame began to creep across it.

Whitey thought of the feelings of the imprisoned sheepmen, knowing what was going on overhead, but helpless to prevent it.

It seemed that they surely must make some effort.

Both sides had ceased firing.