They wished for nothing more; they preferred to die.
Two days afterwards the weather became fine again, and hunger seized them once more.

It seemed to them that their stomachs were being wrenched from them with tongs.

Then they rolled about in convulsions, flung handfuls of dust into their mouths, bit their arms, and burst into frantic laughter.
They were still more tormented by thirst, for they had not a drop of water, the leathern bottles having been completely dried up since the ninth day.

To cheat their need they applied their tongues to the metal plates on their waist-belts, their ivory pommels, and the steel of their swords.

Some former caravan-leaders tightened their waists with ropes.
Others sucked a pebble.