It was high noon, and the rays of the sun, that hung poised directly overhead in an intolerable white glory, fell straight as plummets upon the roofs and streets of Guadalajara.

The adobe walls and sparse brick sidewalks of the drowsing town radiated the heat in an oily, quivering shimmer.

The leaves of the eucalyptus trees around the Plaza drooped motionless, limp and relaxed under the scorching, searching blaze.
The shadows of these trees had shrunk to their smallest circumference, contracting close about the trunks.

The shade had dwindled to the breadth of a mere line.

The sun was everywhere.