It seemed to him that the smart of his tortured body could not have been keener if he had been flayed.
"If it gets much hotter," he muttered, wringing the sweat from his thick fell of hair and mustache, "if it gets much hotter, I don' know what I'll do." He was thirsty, and drank a little from his canteen.

"I ain't got any too much water," he murmured, shaking the canteen.

"I got to get out of this place in a hurry, sure." By eleven o'clock the heat had increased to such an extent that McTeague could feel the burning of the ground come pringling and stinging through the soles of his boots.

Every step he took threw up clouds of impalpable alkali dust, salty and choking, so that he strangled and coughed and sneezed with it.
"LORD! what a country!" exclaimed the dentist.
An hour later, the mule stopped and lay down, his jaws wide open, his ears dangling.

McTeague washed his mouth with a handful of water and for a second time since sunrise wetted the flour-sacks around the bird cage.
The air was quivering and palpitating like that in the stoke-hold of a steamship.