How he hated that sun! It seemed to be drying him up, through and
through, causing the very blood in his veins to evaporate. Why should
such hot days follow such cold nights? When his tongue touched the roof
of his mouth it felt rough and hot like a coal. Perhaps the Mexicans had
gone away. It seemed to him that he had not heard any sounds from them
for some time. He went to the edge of the pyramid and looked over. No,
the Mexicans were yet there, and the sight of them filled him with a
fierce anger. They were enjoying themselves. Tents were scattered about
and shelters of boughs had been erected. Many soldiers were taking their
siestas. Nobody was working and there was not the slightest sign that
they intended to depart that day. Ned's hot tongue clove to the roof of
his hot mouth, but he obstinately refused to look at the river. He did
not think that he could stand another sight of it.

He went back to his little lair among the shrubs and prayed for night,
blessed night with its cooling touch. He had a horrible apprehension
which amounted to conviction that the troops would stay there for
several days, awaiting some maneuver or perhaps making it a rallying
point, and that in his hiding place on the pyramid he was in as bad case
as a sailor cast on a desert island without water. Nothing seemed left
for him but to steal down and try to escape in darkness. Thus night
would be doubly welcome and he prayed for it again and with renewed
fervor.

Some hours are ten times as long as others, but the longest of all come
to an end at last. The sun began to droop in the west. The vertical
glare was gone, yet the masonry where it was bare was yet hot to the
touch. It, too, cooled soon. The sun dropped wholly down and darkness
came over all the earth. Then the fever in Ned's throat died down