noon
He got to marking the sand ridges , their slight variations giving play to the brain . Way off to the left was the mirage of a lake , apparently so real that he had to battle with himself to keep from turning aside . He dropped forward in the saddle , his head hanging low , so blinded by the incessant sun glare he could no longer bear the glitter of that horrible ocean of sand . It was noon now -- noon , and he had been riding steadily seven hours . The thought brought his blurred eyes again to the horizon . Where could he be , the man he sought in the heart of this solitude ? Surely he should be here by now , if he had left the water-hole at dawn .