And that was all; that and the burnt-out blue of the sky and the steady shimmer of the heat.
The silence was infinite.

After the harvest, small though that harvest had been, the ranches seemed asleep.

It was as though the earth, after its period of reproduction, its pains of labour, had been delivered of the fruit of its loins, and now slept the sleep of exhaustion.
It was the period between seasons, when nothing was being done, when the natural forces seemed to hang suspended.

There was no rain, there was no wind, there was no growth, no life; the very stubble had no force even to rot.

The sun alone moved.
Toward two o'clock, Presley reached Hooven's place, two or three grimy frame buildings, infested with a swarm of dogs.