About midday
In their opinion , nothing could save me from a horrible death , probably of thirst . The best that I could hope for was being smothered in a sandstorm . The man-killer would probably go on till he dropped from exhaustion , and then , whether I was alive or dead , birds of prey would pick out my eyes and tear the flesh from my bones . About midday we reached the mountain range which divides Pachatupec from the desert . Anything more lonesome and depressing it were impossible to conceive . Not a tree , not a shrub , not a blade of grass nor any green thing ; neither running stream nor gleam of water could be seen . It was a region in which the blessed rain of heaven had not fallen for untold ages , a region of desolation and death , of naked peaks , rugged precipices , and rocky ravines .