noon
The parched earth had split open everywhere in gaping cracks that intersected and made patterns in the garden like a crazy quilt . The gray-coated leaves hung motionless from the shriveling twigs , limp and discouraged . Horses lifted their seared feet wearily from the sizzling , yielding asphalt ; dogs panted by with their tongues hanging out ; pedestrians closed their eyes to shut out the merciless glare from the sidewalks . The streets were almost deserted , like those of a southern city during the noon hours , while a wilted population sought the shelter of house or cellar and prayed for rain . On the vine-screened veranda of the Bradford home three of the Winnebagos -- Hinpoha , Sahwah and Migwan -- reclined on wicker couches sipping ice cold lemonade and wearily waving palm-leaf fans . The usually busy tongues were still for once ; it was too hot to talk . Brimming over with life and energy as they generally were , it seemed on this drowsy and oppressive afternoon that they would never be able to move again .