Men of various ages were there--grizzled riders who saw the world through the introspective eye of experience; young men with their enthusiasms, their impulses; middle-aged men who had seen much of life--enough to be able to face the future with unshaken complacence; but all bronzed, clear-eyed, self-reliant, unafraid.
When Ferguson and Rope entered the bunkhouse many of the men were already seated.

Ferguson and Rope took places at one end of the long table and began eating.

No niceties of the conventions were observed here; the men ate each according to his whim and were immune from criticism.

Table etiquette was a thing that would have spoiled their joy of eating.

Theirs was a primitive country; their occupation primitive; their manner of living no less so.