Even at six o'clock it was hot.
"It's going to be worse than ever to-day," he groaned.

"I wish I could find another rock to camp by.

Ain't I ever going to get out of this place ?" There was no change in the character of the desert.

Always the same measureless leagues of white-hot alkali stretched away toward the horizon on every hand.

Here and there the flat, dazzling surface of the desert broke and raised into long low mounds, from the summit of which McTeague could look for miles and miles over its horrible desolation.
No shade was in sight.