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IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND PARTY TRAVEL BY THE PACIFIC RAILROAD
"From ocean to ocean"--so say the Americans; and these four words
compose the general designation of the "great trunk line"
which crosses the entire width of the United States.
The Pacific Railroad is, however, really divided into two distinct lines:
the Central Pacific, between San Francisco and Ogden, and the Union Pacific,
between Ogden and Omaha. Five main lines connect Omaha with New York.
New York and San Francisco are thus united by an uninterrupted metal ribbon,
which measures no less than three thousand seven hundred and eighty-six miles.
Between Omaha and the Pacific the railway crosses a territory which is still
infested by Indians and wild beasts, and a large tract which the Mormons,
after they were driven from Illinois in 1845, began to colonise.
The journey from New York to San Francisco consumed, formerly,
under the most favourable conditions, at least six months.
It is now accomplished in seven days.
It was in 1862 that, in spite of the Southern Members of Congress,
who wished a more southerly route, it was decided to lay the road
between the forty-first and forty-second parallels. President Lincoln
himself fixed the end of the line at Omaha, in Nebraska. The work was
at once commenced, and pursued with true American energy; nor did the
rapidity with which it went on injuriously affect its good execution.
The road grew, on the prairies, a mile and a half a day. A locomotive,
running on the rails laid down the evening before, brought the rails
to be laid on the morrow, and advanced upon them as fast as they were
put in position.
The Pacific Railroad is joined by several branches in Iowa, Kansas,
Colorado, and Oregon. On leaving Omaha, it passes along the left bank
of the Platte River as far as the junction of its northern branch,
follows its southern branch, crosses the Laramie territory and the
Wahsatch Mountains, turns the Great Salt Lake, and reaches Salt Lake City,
the Mormon capital, plunges into the Tuilla Valley, across the American Desert,
Cedar and Humboldt Mountains, the Sierra Nevada, and descends, via Sacramento,
to the Pacific--its grade, even on the Rocky Mountains, never exceeding
one hundred and twelve feet to the mile.
Such was the road to be traversed in seven days, which would enable
Phileas Fogg--at least, so he hoped--to take the Atlantic steamer
at New York on the 11th for Liverpool.
The car which he occupied was a sort of long omnibus on eight wheels,
and with no compartments in the interior. It was supplied with two rows
of seats, perpendicular to the direction of the train on either side
of an aisle which conducted to the front and rear platforms.
These platforms were found throughout the train, and the passengers
were able to pass from one end of the train to the other.
It was supplied with saloon cars, balcony cars, restaurants,
and smoking-cars; theatre cars alone were wanting, and they will
have these some day.
Book and news dealers, sellers of edibles, drinkables, and cigars,
who seemed to have plenty of customers, were continually circulating
in the aisles.
The train left Oakland station at six o'clock. It was already night,
cold and cheerless, the heavens being overcast with clouds which seemed
to threaten snow. The train did not proceed rapidly; counting the stoppages,
it did not run more than twenty miles an hour, which was a sufficient speed,
however, to enable it to reach Omaha within its designated time.
There was but little conversation in the car, and soon many of the passengers
were overcome with sleep. Passepartout found himself beside the detective;
but he did not talk to him. After recent events, their relations with each
other had grown somewhat cold; there could no longer be mutual sympathy or
intimacy between them. Fix's manner had not changed; but Passepartout was very
reserved, and ready to strangle his former friend on the slightest provocation.
Snow began to fall an hour after they started, a fine snow, however,
which happily could not obstruct the train; nothing could be seen
from the windows but a vast, white sheet, against which the smoke
of the locomotive had a greyish aspect.
At eight o'clock a steward entered the car and announced that
the time for going to bed had arrived; and in a few minutes
the car was transformed into a dormitory. The backs of the seats
were thrown back, bedsteads carefully packed were rolled out by
an ingenious system, berths were suddenly improvised, and each traveller
had soon at his disposition a comfortable bed, protected from curious eyes
by thick curtains. The sheets were clean and the pillows soft.
It only remained to go to bed and sleep which everybody did--
while the train sped on across the State of California.
The country between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very hilly.
The Central Pacific, taking Sacramento for its starting-point,
extends eastward to meet the road from Omaha. The line from San Francisco
to Sacramento runs in a north-easterly direction, along the American River,
which empties into San Pablo Bay. The one hundred and twenty miles between
these cities were accomplished in six hours, and towards midnight, while
fast asleep, the travellers passed through Sacramento; so that they saw nothing
of that important place, the seat of the State government, with its fine quays,
its broad streets, its noble hotels, squares, and churches.
The train, on leaving Sacramento, and passing the junction, Roclin, Auburn,
and Colfax, entered the range of the Sierra Nevada. 'Cisco was reached
at seven in the morning; and an hour later the dormitory was transformed
into an ordinary car, and the travellers could observe the picturesque
beauties of the mountain region through which they were steaming.
The railway track wound in and out among the passes, now approaching
the mountain-sides, now suspended over precipices, avoiding abrupt angles
by bold curves, plunging into narrow defiles, which seemed to have
no outlet. The locomotive, its great funnel emitting a weird light,
with its sharp bell, and its cow-catcher extended like a spur,
mingled its shrieks and bellowings with the noise of torrents and cascades,
and twined its smoke among the branches of the gigantic pines.
There were few or no bridges or tunnels on the route. The railway
turned around the sides of the mountains, and did not attempt to violate
nature by taking the shortest cut from one point to another.
The train entered the State of Nevada through the Carson Valley
about nine o'clock, going always northeasterly; and at midday reached Reno,
where there was a delay of twenty minutes for breakfast.
From this point the road, running along Humboldt River,
passed northward for several miles by its banks; then it
turned eastward, and kept by the river until it reached
the Humboldt Range, nearly at the extreme eastern limit of Nevada.
Having breakfasted, Mr. Fogg and his companions resumed their places
in the car, and observed the varied landscape which unfolded itself
as they passed along the vast prairies, the mountains lining the horizon,
and the creeks, with their frothy, foaming streams. Sometimes a great herd
of buffaloes, massing together in the distance, seemed like a movable dam.
These innumerable multitudes of ruminating beasts often form an
insurmountable obstacle to the passage of the trains; thousands
of them have been seen passing over the track for hours together,
in compact ranks. The locomotive is then forced to stop and wait
till the road is once more clear.
This happened, indeed, to the train in which Mr. Fogg was travelling.
About twelve o'clock a troop of ten or twelve thousand head of buffalo
encumbered the track. The locomotive, slackening its speed, tried to clear
the way with its cow-catcher; but the mass of animals was too great.
The buffaloes marched along with a tranquil gait, uttering now and then
deafening bellowings. There was no use of interrupting them, for,
having taken a particular direction, nothing can moderate and change
their course; it is a torrent of living flesh which no dam could contain.
The travellers gazed on this curious spectacle from the platforms;
but Phileas Fogg, who had the most reason of all to be in a hurry,
remained in his seat, and waited philosophically until it should please
the buffaloes to get out of the way.
Passepartout was furious at the delay they occasioned, and longed
to discharge his arsenal of revolvers upon them.
"What a country!" cried he. "Mere cattle stop the trains, and go by
in a procession, just as if they were not impeding travel! Parbleu!
I should like to know if Mr. Fogg foresaw this mishap in his programme!
And here's an engineer who doesn't dare to run the locomotive
into this herd of beasts!"
The engineer did not try to overcome the obstacle, and he was wise.
He would have crushed the first buffaloes, no doubt, with the cow-catcher;
but the locomotive, however powerful, would soon have been checked,
the train would inevitably have been thrown off the track,
and would then have been helpless.
The best course was to wait patiently, and regain the lost time
by greater speed when the obstacle was removed. The procession
of buffaloes lasted three full hours, and it was night before
the track was clear. The last ranks of the herd were now passing over
the rails, while the first had already disappeared below the southern horizon.
It was eight o'clock when the train passed through the defiles
of the Humboldt Range, and half-past nine when it penetrated Utah,
the region of the Great Salt Lake, the singular colony of the Mormons.
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Chapter XXVII
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT UNDERGOES, AT A SPEED OF TWENTY MILES AN HOUR,
A COURSE OF MORMON HISTORY
During the night of the 5th of December, the train ran south-easterly
for about fifty miles; then rose an equal distance in a north-easterly
direction, towards the Great Salt Lake.
Passepartout, about nine o'clock, went out upon the platform to take the air.
The weather was cold, the heavens grey, but it was not snowing.
The sun's disc, enlarged by the mist, seemed an enormous ring of gold,
and Passepartout was amusing himself by calculating its value
in pounds sterling, when he was diverted from this interesting study
by a strange-looking personage who made his appearance on the platform.
This personage, who had taken the train at Elko, was tall and dark,
with black moustache, black stockings, a black silk hat, a black waistcoat,
black trousers, a white cravat, and dogskin gloves. He might have been
taken for a clergyman. He went from one end of the train to the other,
and affixed to the door of each car a notice written in manuscript.
Passepartout approached and read one of these notices, which stated that
Elder William Hitch, Mormon missionary, taking advantage of his presence
on train No. 48, would deliver a lecture on Mormonism in car No. 117,
from eleven to twelve o'clock; and that he invited all who were desirous
of being instructed concerning the mysteries of the religion of the
"Latter Day Saints" to attend.
"I'll go," said Passepartout to himself. He knew nothing
of Mormonism except the custom of polygamy, which is its foundation.
The news quickly spread through the train, which contained
about one hundred passengers, thirty of whom, at most,
attracted by the notice, ensconced themselves in car No. 117.
Passepartout took one of the front seats. Neither Mr. Fogg
nor Fix cared to attend.
At the appointed hour Elder William Hitch rose, and, in an irritated voice,
as if he had already been contradicted, said, "I tell you that Joe Smith
is a martyr, that his brother Hiram is a martyr, and that the persecutions
of the United States Government against the prophets will also make a martyr
of Brigham Young. Who dares to say the contrary?"
No one ventured to gainsay the missionary, whose excited tone contrasted
curiously with his naturally calm visage. No doubt his anger arose
from the hardships to which the Mormons were actually subjected.
The government had just succeeded, with some difficulty, in reducing
these independent fanatics to its rule. It had made itself master of Utah,
and subjected that territory to the laws of the Union, after imprisoning
Brigham Young on a charge of rebellion and polygamy. The disciples
of the prophet had since redoubled their efforts, and resisted,
by words at least, the authority of Congress. Elder Hitch, as is seen,
was trying to make proselytes on the very railway trains.
Then, emphasising his words with his loud voice and frequent gestures,
he related the history of the Mormons from Biblical times: how that,
in Israel, a Mormon prophet of the tribe of Joseph published the annals
of the new religion, and bequeathed them to his son Mormon;
how, many centuries later, a translation of this precious book,
which was written in Egyptian, was made by Joseph Smith, junior,
a Vermont farmer, who revealed himself as a mystical prophet in 1825;
and how, in short, the celestial messenger appeared to him
in an illuminated forest, and gave him the annals of the Lord.
Several of the audience, not being much interested in
the missionary's narrative, here left the car; but Elder Hitch,
continuing his lecture, related how Smith, junior, with his father,
two brothers, and a few disciples, founded the church of the
"Latter Day Saints," which, adopted not only in America,
but in England, Norway and Sweden, and Germany, counts many artisans,
as well as men engaged in the liberal professions, among its members;
how a colony was established in Ohio, a temple erected there at a
cost of two hundred thousand dollars, and a town built at Kirkland;
how Smith became an enterprising banker, and received from a simple mummy
showman a papyrus scroll written by Abraham and several famous Egyptians.
The Elder's story became somewhat wearisome, and his audience
grew gradually less, until it was reduced to twenty passengers.
But this did not disconcert the enthusiast, who proceeded with
the story of Joseph Smith's bankruptcy in 1837, and how his ruined
creditors gave him a coat of tar and feathers; his reappearance
some years afterwards, more honourable and honoured than ever,
at Independence, Missouri, the chief of a flourishing colony
of three thousand disciples, and his pursuit thence by outraged Gentiles,
and retirement into the Far West.
Ten hearers only were now left, among them honest Passepartout,
who was listening with all his ears. Thus he learned that,
after long persecutions, Smith reappeared in Illinois,
and in 1839 founded a community at Nauvoo, on the Mississippi,
numbering twenty-five thousand souls, of which he became mayor,
chief justice, and general-in-chief; that he announced himself,
in 1843, as a candidate for the Presidency of the United States;
and that finally, being drawn into ambuscade at Carthage,
he was thrown into prison, and assassinated by a band of men
disguised in masks.
Passepartout was now the only person left in the car, and the Elder,
looking him full in the face, reminded him that, two years after
the assassination of Joseph Smith, the inspired prophet, Brigham Young,
his successor, left Nauvoo for the banks of the Great Salt Lake, where,
in the midst of that fertile region, directly on the route of the emigrants
who crossed Utah on their way to California, the new colony, thanks to
the polygamy practised by the Mormons, had flourished beyond expectations.
"And this," added Elder William Hitch, "this is why the jealousy of Congress
has been aroused against us! Why have the soldiers of the Union invaded
the soil of Utah? Why has Brigham Young, our chief, been imprisoned,
in contempt of all justice? Shall we yield to force? Never!
Driven from Vermont, driven from Illinois, driven from Ohio,
driven from Missouri, driven from Utah, we shall yet find some
independent territory on which to plant our tents. And you,
my brother," continued the Elder, fixing his angry eyes
upon his single auditor, "will you not plant yours there,
too, under the shadow of our flag?"
"No!" replied Passepartout courageously, in his turn retiring
from the car, and leaving the Elder to preach to vacancy.
During the lecture the train had been making good progress,
and towards half-past twelve it reached the northwest border
of the Great Salt Lake. Thence the passengers could observe
the vast extent of this interior sea, which is also called the Dead Sea,
and into which flows an American Jordan. It is a picturesque expanse,
framed in lofty crags in large strata, encrusted with white salt--
a superb sheet of water, which was formerly of larger extent than now,
its shores having encroached with the lapse of time, and thus at once
reduced its breadth and increased its depth.
The Salt Lake, seventy miles long and thirty-five wide,
is situated three miles eight hundred feet above the sea.
Quite different from Lake Asphaltite, whose depression
is twelve hundred feet below the sea, it contains considerable salt,
and one quarter of the weight of its water is solid matter,
its specific weight being 1,170, and, after being distilled, 1,000.
Fishes are, of course, unable to live in it, and those which descend
through the Jordan, the Weber, and other streams soon perish.
The country around the lake was well cultivated, for the Mormons
are mostly farmers; while ranches and pens for domesticated animals,
fields of wheat, corn, and other cereals, luxuriant prairies,
hedges of wild rose, clumps of acacias and milk-wort,
would have been seen six months later. Now the ground
was covered with a thin powdering of snow.
The train reached Ogden at two o'clock, where it rested for six hours,
Mr. Fogg and his party had time to pay a visit to Salt Lake City,
connected with Ogden by a branch road; and they spent two hours
in this strikingly American town, built on the pattern of other cities
of the Union, like a checker-board, "with the sombre sadness of right-angles,"
as Victor Hugo expresses it. The founder of the City of the Saints
could not escape from the taste for symmetry which distinguishes
the Anglo-Saxons. In this strange country, where the people
are certainly not up to the level of their institutions,
everything is done "squarely"--cities, houses, and follies.
The travellers, then, were promenading, at three o'clock,
about the streets of the town built between the banks of the
Jordan and the spurs of the Wahsatch Range. They saw few
or no churches, but the prophet's mansion, the court-house,
and the arsenal, blue-brick houses with verandas and porches,
surrounded by gardens bordered with acacias, palms, and locusts.
A clay and pebble wall, built in 1853, surrounded the town;
and in the principal street were the market and several hotels
adorned with pavilions. The place did not seem thickly populated.
The streets were almost deserted, except in the vicinity of the temple,
which they only reached after having traversed several quarters
surrounded by palisades. There were many women, which was easily
accounted for by the "peculiar institution" of the Mormons;
but it must not be supposed that all the Mormons are polygamists.
They are free to marry or not, as they please; but it is worth noting
that it is mainly the female citizens of Utah who are anxious to marry,
as, according to the Mormon religion, maiden ladies are not admitted
to the possession of its highest joys. These poor creatures seemed
to be neither well off nor happy. Some--the more well-to-do, no doubt--
wore short, open, black silk dresses, under a hood or modest shawl;
others were habited in Indian fashion.
Passepartout could not behold without a certain fright these women,
charged, in groups, with conferring happiness on a single Mormon.
His common sense pitied, above all, the husband. It seemed to him
a terrible thing to have to guide so many wives at once across
the vicissitudes of life, and to conduct them, as it were,
in a body to the Mormon paradise with the prospect of seeing them
in the company of the glorious Smith, who doubtless was the chief ornament
of that delightful place, to all eternity. He felt decidedly repelled
from such a vocation, and he imagined--perhaps he was mistaken--
that the fair ones of Salt Lake City cast rather alarming glances
on his person. Happily, his stay there was but brief. At four the party
found themselves again at the station, took their places in the train,
and the whistle sounded for starting. Just at the moment, however,
that the locomotive wheels began to move, cries of "Stop! stop!" were heard.
Trains, like time and tide, stop for no one. The gentleman
who uttered the cries was evidently a belated Mormon. He was
breathless with running. Happily for him, the station had neither
gates nor barriers. He rushed along the track, jumped on the rear
platform of the train, and fell, exhausted, into one of the seats.
Passepartout, who had been anxiously watching this amateur gymnast,
approached him with lively interest, and learned that he had taken flight
after an unpleasant domestic scene.
When the Mormon had recovered his breath, Passepartout ventured
to ask him politely how many wives he had; for, from the manner
in which he had decamped, it might be thought that he had twenty at least.
"One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms heavenward
--"one, and that was enough!"
Chapter XXVIII
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT DOES NOT SUCCEED IN MAKING ANYBODY LISTEN TO REASON
The train, on leaving Great Salt Lake at Ogden, passed northward
for an hour as far as Weber River, having completed nearly nine
hundred miles from San Francisco. From this point it took
an easterly direction towards the jagged Wahsatch Mountains.
It was in the section included between this range and the
Rocky Mountains that the American engineers found the most
formidable difficulties in laying the road, and that the government
granted a subsidy of forty-eight thousand dollars per mile,
instead of sixteen thousand allowed for the work done on the plains.
But the engineers, instead of violating nature, avoided its difficulties
by winding around, instead of penetrating the rocks. One tunnel only,
fourteen thousand feet in length, was pierced in order to arrive
at the great basin.
The track up to this time had reached its highest elevation at
the Great Salt Lake. From this point it described a long curve,
descending towards Bitter Creek Valley, to rise again to the
dividing ridge of the waters between the Atlantic and the Pacific.
There were many creeks in this mountainous region, and it was necessary
to cross Muddy Creek, Green Creek, and others, upon culverts.
Passepartout grew more and more impatient as they went on,
while Fix longed to get out of this difficult region, and was more
anxious than Phileas Fogg himself to be beyond the danger of delays
and accidents, and set foot on English soil.
At ten o'clock at night the train stopped at Fort Bridger station,
and twenty minutes later entered Wyoming Territory, following the
valley of Bitter Creek throughout. The next day, 7th December,
they stopped for a quarter of an hour at Green River station.
Snow had fallen abundantly during the night, but, being mixed with rain,
it had half melted, and did not interrupt their progress. The bad weather,
however, annoyed Passepartout; for the accumulation of snow, by blocking
the wheels of the cars, would certainly have been fatal to Mr. Fogg's tour.
"What an idea!" he said to himself. "Why did my master make
this journey in winter? Couldn't he have waited for the good
season to increase his chances?"
While the worthy Frenchman was absorbed in the state of the sky
and the depression of the temperature, Aouda was experiencing
fears from a totally different cause.
Several passengers had got off at Green River, and were walking up and down
the platforms; and among these Aouda recognised Colonel Stamp Proctor,
the same who had so grossly insulted Phileas Fogg at the San Francisco meeting.
Not wishing to be recognised, the young woman drew back from the window,
feeling much alarm at her discovery. She was attached to the man who,
however coldly, gave her daily evidences of the most absolute devotion.
She did not comprehend, perhaps, the depth of the sentiment with which
her protector inspired her, which she called gratitude, but which,
though she was unconscious of it, was really more than that.
Her heart sank within her when she recognised the man whom
Mr. Fogg desired, sooner or later, to call to account for his conduct.
Chance alone, it was clear, had brought Colonel Proctor on this train;
but there he was, and it was necessary, at all hazards, that Phileas Fogg
should not perceive his adversary.
Aouda seized a moment when Mr. Fogg was asleep to tell Fix and Passepartout
whom she had seen.
"That Proctor on this train!" cried Fix. "Well, reassure yourself,
madam; before he settles with Mr. Fogg; he has got to deal with me!
It seems to me that I was the more insulted of the two."
"And, besides," added Passepartout, "I'll take charge of him,
colonel as he is."
"Mr. Fix," resumed Aouda, "Mr. Fogg will allow no one to avenge him.
He said that he would come back to America to find this man.
Should he perceive Colonel Proctor, we could not prevent a collision
which might have terrible results. He must not see him."
"You are right, madam," replied Fix; "a meeting between them
might ruin all. Whether he were victorious or beaten, Mr. Fogg
would be delayed, and--"
"And," added Passepartout, "that would play the game of the gentlemen
of the Reform Club. In four days we shall be in New York. Well,
if my master does not leave this car during those four days,
we may hope that chance will not bring him face to face with this
confounded American. We must, if possible, prevent his stirring out of it."
The conversation dropped. Mr. Fogg had just woke up,
and was looking out of the window. Soon after Passepartout,
without being heard by his master or Aouda, whispered to the detective,
"Would you really fight for him?"
"I would do anything," replied Fix, in a tone which betrayed determined will,
"to get him back living to Europe!"
Passepartout felt something like a shudder shoot through his frame,
but his confidence in his master remained unbroken.
Was there any means of detaining Mr. Fogg in the car, to avoid a meeting
between him and the colonel? It ought not to be a difficult task,
since that gentleman was naturally sedentary and little curious.
The detective, at least, seemed to have found a way; for, after a few moments,
he said to Mr. Fogg, "These are long and slow hours, sir, that we are passing
on the railway."
"Yes," replied Mr. Fogg; "but they pass."
"You were in the habit of playing whist," resumed Fix, "on the steamers."
"Yes; but it would be difficult to do so here. I have neither cards
nor partners."
"Oh, but we can easily buy some cards, for they are sold
on all the American trains. And as for partners, if madam plays--"
"Certainly, sir," Aouda quickly replied; "I understand whist.
It is part of an English education."
"I myself have some pretensions to playing a good game.
Well, here are three of us, and a dummy--"
"As you please, sir," replied Phileas Fogg, heartily glad
to resume his favourite pastime even on the railway.
Passepartout was dispatched in search of the steward,
and soon returned with two packs of cards, some pins,
counters, and a shelf covered with cloth.
The game commenced. Aouda understood whist sufficiently well,
and even received some compliments on her playing from Mr. Fogg.
As for the detective, he was simply an adept, and worthy of being
matched against his present opponent.
"Now," thought Passepartout, "we've got him. He won't budge."
At eleven in the morning the train had reached the dividing ridge of the waters
at Bridger Pass, seven thousand five hundred and twenty-four feet above
the level of the sea, one of the highest points attained by the track
in crossing the Rocky Mountains. After going about two hundred miles,
the travellers at last found themselves on one of those vast plains
which extend to the Atlantic, and which nature has made so propitious
for laying the iron road.
On the declivity of the Atlantic basin the first streams,
branches of the North Platte River, already appeared.
The whole northern and eastern horizon was bounded by the immense
semi-circular curtain which is formed by the southern portion
of the Rocky Mountains, the highest being Laramie Peak.
Between this and the railway extended vast plains,
plentifully irrigated. On the right rose the lower spurs
of the mountainous mass which extends southward to the sources
of the Arkansas River, one of the great tributaries of the Missouri.
At half-past twelve the travellers caught sight for an instant of Fort Halleck,
which commands that section; and in a few more hours the Rocky Mountains
were crossed. There was reason to hope, then, that no accident would mark
the journey through this difficult country. The snow had ceased falling,
and the air became crisp and cold. Large birds, frightened by the locomotive,
rose and flew off in the distance. No wild beast appeared on the plain.
It was a desert in its vast nakedness.
After a comfortable breakfast, served in the car, Mr. Fogg and his partners had
just resumed whist, when a violent whistling was heard, and the train stopped.
Passepartout put his head out of the door, but saw nothing to cause the delay;
no station was in view.
Aouda and Fix feared that Mr. Fogg might take it into his head to get out;
but that gentleman contented himself with saying to his servant,
"See what is the matter."
Passepartout rushed out of the car. Thirty or forty passengers
had already descended, amongst them Colonel Stamp Proctor.
The train had stopped before a red signal which blocked the way.
The engineer and conductor were talking excitedly with a signal-man,
whom the station-master at Medicine Bow, the next stopping place,
had sent on before. The passengers drew around and took part
in the discussion, in which Colonel Proctor, with his insolent manner,
was conspicuous.
Passepartout, joining the group, heard the signal-man say,
"No! you can't pass. The bridge at Medicine Bow is shaky,
and would not bear the weight of the train."
This was a suspension-bridge thrown over some rapids, about a
mile from the place where they now were. According to the
signal-man, it was in a ruinous condition, several of the iron
wires being broken; and it was impossible to risk the passage.
He did not in any way exaggerate the condition of the bridge.
It may be taken for granted that, rash as the Americans usually are,
when they are prudent there is good reason for it.
Passepartout, not daring to apprise his master of what he heard,
listened with set teeth, immovable as a statue.
"Hum!" cried Colonel Proctor; "but we are not going to stay here,
I imagine, and take root in the snow?"
"Colonel," replied the conductor, "we have telegraphed to Omaha for a train,
but it is not likely that it will reach Medicine Bow is less than six hours."
"Six hours!" cried Passepartout.
"Certainly," returned the conductor, "besides, it will take us as long
as that to reach Medicine Bow on foot."
"But it is only a mile from here," said one of the passengers.
"Yes, but it's on the other side of the river."
"And can't we cross that in a boat?" asked the colonel.
"That's impossible. The creek is swelled by the rains. It is a rapid,
and we shall have to make a circuit of ten miles to the north to find a ford."
The colonel launched a volley of oaths, denouncing the railway
company and the conductor; and Passepartout, who was furious,
was not disinclined to make common cause with him. Here was
an obstacle, indeed, which all his master's banknotes could not remove.
There was a general disappointment among the passengers, who,
without reckoning the delay, saw themselves compelled to trudge
fifteen miles over a plain covered with snow. They grumbled and
protested, and would certainly have thus attracted Phileas Fogg's
attention if he had not been completely absorbed in his game.
Passepartout found that he could not avoid telling his master what
had occurred, and, with hanging head, he was turning towards the car,
when the engineer a true Yankee, named Forster called out,
"Gentlemen, perhaps there is a way, after all, to get over."
"On the bridge?" asked a passenger.
"On the bridge."
"With our train?"
"With our train."
Passepartout stopped short, and eagerly listened to the engineer.
"But the bridge is unsafe," urged the conductor.
"No matter," replied Forster; "I think that by putting on the
very highest speed we might have a chance of getting over."
"The devil!" muttered Passepartout.
But a number of the passengers were at once attracted by the
engineer's proposal, and Colonel Proctor was especially delighted,
and found the plan a very feasible one. He told stories about
engineers leaping their trains over rivers without bridges,
by putting on full steam; and many of those present avowed
themselves of the engineer's mind.
"We have fifty chances out of a hundred of getting over," said one.
"Eighty! ninety!"
Passepartout was astounded, and, though ready to attempt anything to get
over Medicine Creek, thought the experiment proposed a little too American.
"Besides," thought he, "there's a still more simple way, and it does not even
occur to any of these people! Sir," said he aloud to one of the passengers,
"the engineer's plan seems to me a little dangerous, but--"
"Eighty chances!" replied the passenger, turning his back on him.
"I know it," said Passepartout, turning to another passenger,
"but a simple idea--"
"Ideas are no use," returned the American, shrugging his shoulders,
"as the engineer assures us that we can pass."
"Doubtless," urged Passepartout, "we can pass, but perhaps it would
be more prudent--"
"What! Prudent!" cried Colonel Proctor, whom this word seemed
to excite prodigiously. "At full speed, don't you see, at full speed!"
"I know--I see," repeated Passepartout; "but it would be, if not more prudent,
since that word displeases you, at least more natural--"
"Who! What! What's the matter with this fellow?" cried several.
The poor fellow did not know to whom to address himself.
"Are you afraid?" asked Colonel Proctor.
"I afraid? Very well; I will show these people that a Frenchman
can be as American as they!"
"All aboard!" cried the conductor.
"Yes, all aboard!" repeated Passepartout, and immediately.
"But they can't prevent me from thinking that it would be more natural
for us to cross the bridge on foot, and let the train come after!"
But no one heard this sage reflection, nor would anyone have acknowledged
its justice. The passengers resumed their places in the cars.
Passepartout took his seat without telling what had passed.
The whist-players were quite absorbed in their game.
The locomotive whistled vigorously; the engineer, reversing the steam,
backed the train for nearly a mile--retiring, like a jumper, in order
to take a longer leap. Then, with another whistle, he began to move forward;
the train increased its speed, and soon its rapidity became frightful;
a prolonged screech issued from the locomotive; the piston worked up and down
twenty strokes to the second. They perceived that the whole train, rushing
on at the rate of a hundred miles an hour, hardly bore upon the rails at all.
And they passed over! It was like a flash. No one saw the bridge.
The train leaped, so to speak, from one bank to the other,
and the engineer could not stop it until it had gone five miles
beyond the station. But scarcely had the train passed the river,
when the bridge, completely ruined, fell with a crash into the rapids
of Medicine Bow.
Chapter XXIX
IN WHICH CERTAIN INCIDENTS ARE NARRATED
WHICH ARE ONLY TO BE MET WITH ON AMERICAN RAILROADS
The train pursued its course, that evening, without interruption,
passing Fort Saunders, crossing Cheyne Pass, and reaching Evans Pass.
The road here attained the highest elevation of the journey,
eight thousand and ninety-two feet above the level of the sea.
The travellers had now only to descend to the Atlantic by limitless plains,
levelled by nature. A branch of the "grand trunk" led off southward to Denver,
the capital of Colorado. The country round about is rich in gold and silver,
and more than fifty thousand inhabitants are already settled there.
Thirteen hundred and eighty-two miles had been passed over from San Francisco,
in three days and three nights; four days and nights more would probably
bring them to New York. Phileas Fogg was not as yet behind-hand.
During the night Camp Walbach was passed on the left; Lodge Pole Creek
ran parallel with the road, marking the boundary between the territories
of Wyoming and Colorado. They entered Nebraska at eleven, passed near
Sedgwick, and touched at Julesburg, on the southern branch of the Platte River.
It was here that the Union Pacific Railroad was inaugurated on
the 23rd of October, 1867, by the chief engineer, General Dodge.
Two powerful locomotives, carrying nine cars of invited guests,
amongst whom was Thomas C. Durant, vice-president of the road,
stopped at this point; cheers were given, the Sioux and Pawnees
performed an imitation Indian battle, fireworks were let off,
and the first number of the Railway Pioneer was printed by a press
brought on the train. Thus was celebrated the inauguration
of this great railroad, a mighty instrument of progress
and civilisation, thrown across the desert, and destined to link
together cities and towns which do not yet exist. The whistle
of the locomotive, more powerful than Amphion's lyre, was about
to bid them rise from American soil.
Fort McPherson was left behind at eight in the morning,
and three hundred and fifty-seven miles had yet to be traversed
before reaching Omaha. The road followed the capricious windings
of the southern branch of the Platte River, on its left bank.
At nine the train stopped at the important town of North Platte,
built between the two arms of the river, which rejoin each other
around it and form a single artery a large tributary whose waters
empty into the Missouri a little above Omaha.
The one hundred and first meridian was passed.
Mr. Fogg and his partners had resumed their game; no one--not even the dummy--
complained of the length of the trip. Fix had begun by winning several
guineas, which he seemed likely to lose; but he showed himself a not less
eager whist-player than Mr. Fogg. During the morning, chance distinctly
favoured that gentleman. Trumps and honours were showered upon his hands.
Once, having resolved on a bold stroke, he was on the point of playing a spade,
when a voice behind him said, "I should play a diamond."
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix raised their heads, and beheld Colonel Proctor.
Stamp Proctor and Phileas Fogg recognised each other at once.
"Ah! it's you, is it, Englishman?" cried the colonel;
"it's you who are going to play a spade!"
"And who plays it," replied Phileas Fogg coolly,
throwing down the ten of spades.
"Well, it pleases me to have it diamonds,"
replied Colonel Proctor, in an insolent tone.
He made a movement as if to seize the card which had just been played,
adding, "You don't understand anything about whist."
"Perhaps I do, as well as another," said Phileas Fogg, rising.
"You have only to try, son of John Bull," replied the colonel.
Aouda turned pale, and her blood ran cold. She seized Mr. Fogg's
arm and gently pulled him back. Passepartout was ready to pounce
upon the American, who was staring insolently at his opponent.
But Fix got up, and, going to Colonel Proctor said, "You forget
that it is I with whom you have to deal, sir; for it was I
whom you not only insulted, but struck!"
"Mr. Fix," said Mr. Fogg, "pardon me, but this affair is mine,
and mine only. The colonel has again insulted me, by insisting
that I should not play a spade, and he shall give me satisfaction for it."
"When and where you will," replied the American, "and with whatever
weapon you choose."
Aouda in vain attempted to retain Mr. Fogg; as vainly did the
detective endeavour to make the quarrel his. Passepartout wished
to throw the colonel out of the window, but a sign from his master
checked him. Phileas Fogg left the car, and the American followed
him upon the platform. "Sir," said Mr. Fogg to his adversary,
"I am in a great hurry to get back to Europe, and any delay whatever
will be greatly to my disadvantage."
"Well, what's that to me?" replied Colonel Proctor.
"Sir," said Mr. Fogg, very politely, "after our meeting at San Francisco,
I determined to return to America and find you as soon as I had completed
the business which called me to England."
"Really!"
"Will you appoint a meeting for six months hence?"
"Why not ten years hence?"
"I say six months," returned Phileas Fogg; "and I shall be
at the place of meeting promptly."
"All this is an evasion," cried Stamp Proctor. "Now or never!"
"Very good. You are going to New York?"
"No."
"To Chicago?"
"No."
"To Omaha?"
"What difference is it to you? Do you know Plum Creek?"
"No," replied Mr. Fogg.
"It's the next station. The train will be there in an hour,
and will stop there ten minutes. In ten minutes several
revolver-shots could be exchanged."
"Very well," said Mr. Fogg. "I will stop at Plum Creek."
"And I guess you'll stay there too," added the American insolently.
"Who knows?" replied Mr. Fogg, returning to the car as coolly as usual.
He began to reassure Aouda, telling her that blusterers were never
to be feared, and begged Fix to be his second at the approaching duel,
a request which the detective could not refuse. Mr. Fogg resumed
the interrupted game with perfect calmness.
At eleven o'clock the locomotive's whistle announced that they were
approaching Plum Creek station. Mr. Fogg rose, and, followed by Fix,
went out upon the platform. Passepartout accompanied him, carrying
a pair of revolvers. Aouda remained in the car, as pale as death.
The door of the next car opened, and Colonel Proctor appeared on the platform,
attended by a Yankee of his own stamp as his second. But just as the
combatants were about to step from the train, the conductor hurried up,
and shouted, "You can't get off, gentlemen!"
"Why not?" asked the colonel.
"We are twenty minutes late, and we shall not stop."
"But I am going to fight a duel with this gentleman."
"I am sorry," said the conductor; "but we shall be off at once.
There's the bell ringing now."
The train started.
"I'm really very sorry, gentlemen," said the conductor.
"Under any other circumstances I should have been happy to oblige you.
But, after all, as you have not had time to fight here,
why not fight as we go along?
"That wouldn't be convenient, perhaps, for this gentleman,"
said the colonel, in a jeering tone.
"It would be perfectly so," replied Phileas Fogg.
"Well, we are really in America," thought Passepartout,
"and the conductor is a gentleman of the first order!"
So muttering, he followed his master.
The two combatants, their seconds, and the conductor passed through
the cars to the rear of the train. The last car was only occupied
by a dozen passengers, whom the conductor politely asked if they would
not be so kind as to leave it vacant for a few moments, as two gentlemen
had an affair of honour to settle. The passengers granted the request
with alacrity, and straightway disappeared on the platform.
The car, which was some fifty feet long, was very convenient
for their purpose. The adversaries might march on each other
in the aisle, and fire at their ease. Never was duel more easily
arranged. Mr. Fogg and Colonel Proctor, each provided with two
six-barrelled revolvers, entered the car. The seconds, remaining
outside, shut them in. They were to begin firing at the first
whistle of the locomotive. After an interval of two minutes,
what remained of the two gentlemen would be taken from the car.
Nothing could be more simple. Indeed, it was all so simple
that Fix and Passepartout felt their hearts beating as if they
would crack. They were listening for the whistle agreed upon,
when suddenly savage cries resounded in the air, accompanied
by reports which certainly did not issue from the car where
the duellists were. The reports continued in front and the whole
length of the train. Cries of terror proceeded from the interior
of the cars.
Colonel Proctor and Mr. Fogg, revolvers in hand, hastily quitted
their prison, and rushed forward where the noise was most clamorous.
They then perceived that the train was attacked by a band of Sioux.
This was not the first attempt of these daring Indians, for more than
once they had waylaid trains on the road. A hundred of them had,
according to their habit, jumped upon the steps without stopping
the train, with the ease of a clown mounting a horse at full gallop.
The Sioux were armed with guns, from which came the reports,
to which the passengers, who were almost all armed, responded
by revolver-shots.
The Indians had first mounted the engine, and half stunned
the engineer and stoker with blows from their muskets.
A Sioux chief, wishing to stop the train, but not knowing
how to work the regulator, had opened wide instead of closing
the steam-valve, and the locomotive was plunging forward
with terrific velocity.
The Sioux had at the same time invaded the cars, skipping like
enraged monkeys over the roofs, thrusting open the doors,
and fighting hand to hand with the passengers. Penetrating the
baggage-car, they pillaged it, throwing the trunks out of the train.
The cries and shots were constant. The travellers defended
themselves bravely; some of the cars were barricaded,
and sustained a siege, like moving forts, carried along
at a speed of a hundred miles an hour.
Aouda behaved courageously from the first. She defended herself
like a true heroine with a revolver, which she shot through the broken
windows whenever a savage made his appearance. Twenty Sioux had fallen
mortally wounded to the ground, and the wheels crushed those who fell
upon the rails as if they had been worms. Several passengers,
shot or stunned, lay on the seats.
It was necessary to put an end to the struggle, which had lasted
for ten minutes, and which would result in the triumph of the Sioux
if the train was not stopped. Fort Kearney station, where there was
a garrison, was only two miles distant; but, that once passed,
the Sioux would be masters of the train between Fort Kearney
and the station beyond.
The conductor was fighting beside Mr. Fogg, when he was shot and fell.
At the same moment he cried, "Unless the train is stopped in five minutes,
we are lost!"
"It shall be stopped," said Phileas Fogg, preparing to rush from the car.
"Stay, monsieur," cried Passepartout; "I will go."
Mr. Fogg had not time to stop the brave fellow, who, opening a door
unperceived by the Indians, succeeded in slipping under the car;
and while the struggle continued and the balls whizzed across each
other over his head, he made use of his old acrobatic experience,
and with amazing agility worked his way under the cars, holding on
to the chains, aiding himself by the brakes and edges of the sashes,
creeping from one car to another with marvellous skill,
and thus gaining the forward end of the train.
There, suspended by one hand between the baggage-car and the tender,
with the other he loosened the safety chains; but, owing to the traction,
he would never have succeeded in unscrewing the yoking-bar,
had not a violent concussion jolted this bar out. The train,
now detached from the engine, remained a little behind,
whilst the locomotive rushed forward with increased speed.
Carried on by the force already acquired, the train still moved
for several minutes; but the brakes were worked and at last they stopped,
less than a hundred feet from Kearney station.
The soldiers of the fort, attracted by the shots, hurried up;
the Sioux had not expected them, and decamped in a body before
the train entirely stopped.
But when the passengers counted each other on the station platform
several were found missing; among others the courageous Frenchman,
whose devotion had just saved them.
Chapter XXX
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SIMPLY DOES HIS DUTY
Three passengers including Passepartout had disappeared. Had they been
killed in the struggle? Were they taken prisoners by the Sioux?
It was impossible to tell.
There were many wounded, but none mortally. Colonel Proctor was one
of the most seriously hurt; he had fought bravely, and a ball had entered
his groin. He was carried into the station with the other wounded passengers,
to receive such attention as could be of avail.
Aouda was safe; and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the thickest
of the fight, had not received a scratch. Fix was slightly
wounded in the arm. But Passepartout was not to be found,
and tears coursed down Aouda's cheeks.
All the passengers had got out of the train, the wheels
of which were stained with blood. From the tyres and spokes
hung ragged pieces of flesh. As far as the eye could reach
on the white plain behind, red trails were visible. The last Sioux
were disappearing in the south, along the banks of Republican River.
Mr. Fogg, with folded arms, remained motionless. He had a serious
decision to make. Aouda, standing near him, looked at him without speaking,
and he understood her look. If his servant was a prisoner, ought he not
to risk everything to rescue him from the Indians? "I will find him,
living or dead," said he quietly to Aouda.
"Ah, Mr.--Mr. Fogg!" cried she, clasping his hands
and covering them with tears.
"Living," added Mr. Fogg, "if we do not lose a moment."
Phileas Fogg, by this resolution, inevitably sacrificed himself;
he pronounced his own doom. The delay of a single day would make
him lose the steamer at New York, and his bet would be certainly lost.
But as he thought, "It is my duty," he did not hesitate.
The commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there. A hundred
of his soldiers had placed themselves in a position to defend
the station, should the Sioux attack it.
"Sir," said Mr. Fogg to the captain, "three passengers have disappeared."
"Dead?" asked the captain.
"Dead or prisoners; that is the uncertainty which must be solved.
Do you propose to pursue the Sioux?"
"That's a serious thing to do, sir," returned the captain.
"These Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot
leave the fort unprotected."
"The lives of three men are in question, sir," said Phileas Fogg.
"Doubtless; but can I risk the lives of fifty men to save three?"
"I don't know whether you can, sir; but you ought to do so."
"Nobody here," returned the other, "has a right to teach me my duty."
"Very well," said Mr. Fogg, coldly. "I will go alone."
"You, sir!" cried Fix, coming up; "you go alone in pursuit of the Indians?"
"Would you have me leave this poor fellow to perish--
him to whom every one present owes his life? I shall go."
"No, sir, you shall not go alone," cried the captain,
touched in spite of himself. "No! you are a brave man.
Thirty volunteers!" he added, turning to the soldiers.
The whole company started forward at once. The captain had
only to pick his men. Thirty were chosen, and an old sergeant
placed at their head.
"Thanks, captain," said Mr. Fogg.
"Will you let me go with you?" asked Fix.
"Do as you please, sir. But if you wish to do me a favour,
you will remain with Aouda. In case anything should happen to me--"
A sudden pallor overspread the detective's face. Separate himself
from the man whom he had so persistently followed step by step!
Leave him to wander about in this desert! Fix gazed attentively
at Mr. Fogg, and, despite his suspicions and of the struggle
which was going on within him, he lowered his eyes before that calm
and frank look.
"I will stay," said he.
A few moments after, Mr. Fogg pressed the young woman's hand, and,
having confided to her his precious carpet-bag, went off with the sergeant
and his little squad. But, before going, he had said to the soldiers,
"My friends, I will divide five thousand dollars among you, if we save
the prisoners."
It was then a little past noon.
Aouda retired to a waiting-room, and there she waited alone,
thinking of the simple and noble generosity, the tranquil courage
of Phileas Fogg. He had sacrificed his fortune, and was now
risking his life, all without hesitation, from duty, in silence.
Fix did not have the same thoughts, and could scarcely conceal
his agitation. He walked feverishly up and down the platform,
but soon resumed his outward composure. He now saw the folly of which
he had been guilty in letting Fogg go alone. What! This man,
whom he had just followed around the world, was permitted now to
separate himself from him! He began to accuse and abuse himself,
and, as if he were director of police, administered to himself
a sound lecture for his greenness.
"I have been an idiot!" he thought, "and this man will see it.
He has gone, and won't come back! But how is it that I, Fix,
who have in my pocket a warrant for his arrest, have been
so fascinated by him? Decidedly, I am nothing but an ass!"
So reasoned the detective, while the hours crept by all too slowly.
He did not know what to do. Sometimes he was tempted to tell Aouda all;
but he could not doubt how the young woman would receive his confidences.
What course should he take? He thought of pursuing Fogg across
the vast white plains; it did not seem impossible that he might overtake him.
Footsteps were easily printed on the snow! But soon, under a new sheet,
every imprint would be effaced.
Fix became discouraged. He felt a sort of insurmountable longing
to abandon the game altogether. He could now leave Fort Kearney station,
and pursue his journey homeward in peace.
Towards two o'clock in the afternoon, while it was snowing hard,
long whistles were heard approaching from the east. A great shadow,
preceded by a wild light, slowly advanced, appearing still larger
through the mist, which gave it a fantastic aspect. No train
was expected from the east, neither had there been time for the succour
asked for by telegraph to arrive; the train from Omaha to San Francisco
was not due till the next day. The mystery was soon explained.
The locomotive, which was slowly approaching with deafening whistles,
was that which, having been detached from the train, had continued
its route with such terrific rapidity, carrying off the unconscious
engineer and stoker. It had run several miles, when, the fire becoming
low for want of fuel, the steam had slackened; and it had finally stopped
an hour after, some twenty miles beyond Fort Kearney. Neither the engineer
nor the stoker was dead, and, after remaining for some time in their swoon,
had come to themselves. The train had then stopped. The engineer, when he
found himself in the desert, and the locomotive without cars, understood
what had happened. He could not imagine how the locomotive had become
separated from the train; but he did not doubt that the train left behind
was in distress.
He did not hesitate what to do. It would be prudent to continue
on to Omaha, for it would be dangerous to return to the train,
which the Indians might still be engaged in pillaging.
Nevertheless, he began to rebuild the fire in the furnace;
the pressure again mounted, and the locomotive returned,
running backwards to Fort Kearney. This it was which was whistling
in the mist.
The travellers were glad to see the locomotive resume its
place at the head of the train. They could now continue
the journey so terribly interrupted.
Aouda, on seeing the locomotive come up, hurried out of the station,
and asked the conductor, "Are you going to start?"
"At once, madam."
"But the prisoners, our unfortunate fellow-travellers--"
"I cannot interrupt the trip," replied the conductor.
"We are already three hours behind time."
"And when will another train pass here from San Francisco?"
"To-morrow evening, madam."
"To-morrow evening! But then it will be too late! We must wait--"
"It is impossible," responded the conductor. "If you wish to go,
please get in."
"I will not go," said Aouda.
Fix had heard this conversation. A little while before, when there
was no prospect of proceeding on the journey, he had made up his mind
to leave Fort Kearney; but now that the train was there, ready to start,
and he had only to take his seat in the car, an irresistible influence
held him back. The station platform burned his feet, and he could not stir.
The conflict in his mind again began; anger and failure stifled him.
He wished to struggle on to the end.
Meanwhile the passengers and some of the wounded, among them
Colonel Proctor, whose injuries were serious, had taken their
places in the train. The buzzing of the over-heated boiler was
heard, and the steam was escaping from the valves. The engineer
whistled, the train started, and soon disappeared, mingling
its white smoke with the eddies of the densely falling snow.
The detective had remained behind.
Several hours passed. The weather was dismal, and it was very cold.
Fix sat motionless on a bench in the station; he might have been
thought asleep. Aouda, despite the storm, kept coming out
of the waiting-room, going to the end of the platform,
and peering through the tempest of snow, as if to pierce
the mist which narrowed the horizon around her, and to hear,
if possible, some welcome sound. She heard and saw nothing.
Then she would return, chilled through, to issue out again
after the lapse of a few moments, but always in vain.
Evening came, and the little band had not returned. Where could they be?
Had they found the Indians, and were they having a conflict with them,
or were they still wandering amid the mist? The commander of the fort
was anxious, though he tried to conceal his apprehensions.
As night approached, the snow fell less plentifully,
but it became intensely cold. Absolute silence rested on the plains.
Neither flight of bird nor passing of beast troubled the perfect calm.
Throughout the night Aouda, full of sad forebodings, her heart
stifled with anguish, wandered about on the verge of the plains.
Her imagination carried her far off, and showed her innumerable dangers.
What she suffered through the long hours it would be impossible to describe.
Fix remained stationary in the same place, but did not sleep.
Once a man approached and spoke to him, and the detective
merely replied by shaking his head.
Thus the night passed. At dawn, the half-extinguished disc of the sun
rose above a misty horizon; but it was now possible to recognise objects
two miles off. Phileas Fogg and the squad had gone southward;
in the south all was still vacancy. It was then seven o'clock.
The captain, who was really alarmed, did not know what course to take.
Should he send another detachment to the rescue of the first?
Should he sacrifice more men, with so few chances of saving those
already sacrificed? His hesitation did not last long, however.
Calling one of his lieutenants, he was on the point of ordering
a reconnaissance, when gunshots were heard. Was it a signal?
The soldiers rushed out of the fort, and half a mile off they
perceived a little band returning in good order.
Mr. Fogg was marching at their head, and just behind him were
Passepartout and the other two travellers, rescued from the Sioux.
They had met and fought the Indians ten miles south of Fort Kearney.
Shortly before the detachment arrived. Passepartout and his companions
had begun to struggle with their captors, three of whom the Frenchman
had felled with his fists, when his master and the soldiers hastened up
to their relief.
All were welcomed with joyful cries. Phileas Fogg distributed
the reward he had promised to the soldiers, while Passepartout,
not without reason, muttered to himself, "It must certainly be
confessed that I cost my master dear!"
Fix, without saying a word, looked at Mr. Fogg, and it would have
been difficult to analyse the thoughts which struggled within him.
As for Aouda, she took her protector's hand and pressed it in her own,
too much moved to speak.
Meanwhile, Passepartout was looking about for the train; he thought
he should find it there, ready to start for Omaha, and he hoped
that the time lost might be regained.
"The train! the train!" cried he.
"Gone," replied Fix.
"And when does the next train pass here?" said Phileas Fogg.
"Not till this evening."
"Ah!" returned the impassible gentleman quietly.
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT UNDERGOES, AT A SPEED OF TWENTY MILES AN HOUR,
A COURSE OF MORMON HISTORY
During the night of the 5th of December, the train ran south-easterly
for about fifty miles; then rose an equal distance in a north-easterly
direction, towards the Great Salt Lake.
Passepartout, about nine o'clock, went out upon the platform to take the air.
The weather was cold, the heavens grey, but it was not snowing.
The sun's disc, enlarged by the mist, seemed an enormous ring of gold,
and Passepartout was amusing himself by calculating its value
in pounds sterling, when he was diverted from this interesting study
by a strange-looking personage who made his appearance on the platform.
This personage, who had taken the train at Elko, was tall and dark,
with black moustache, black stockings, a black silk hat, a black waistcoat,
black trousers, a white cravat, and dogskin gloves. He might have been
taken for a clergyman. He went from one end of the train to the other,
and affixed to the door of each car a notice written in manuscript.
Passepartout approached and read one of these notices, which stated that
Elder William Hitch, Mormon missionary, taking advantage of his presence
on train No. 48, would deliver a lecture on Mormonism in car No. 117,
from eleven to twelve o'clock; and that he invited all who were desirous
of being instructed concerning the mysteries of the religion of the
"Latter Day Saints" to attend.
"I'll go," said Passepartout to himself. He knew nothing
of Mormonism except the custom of polygamy, which is its foundation.
The news quickly spread through the train, which contained
about one hundred passengers, thirty of whom, at most,
attracted by the notice, ensconced themselves in car No. 117.
Passepartout took one of the front seats. Neither Mr. Fogg
nor Fix cared to attend.
At the appointed hour Elder William Hitch rose, and, in an irritated voice,
as if he had already been contradicted, said, "I tell you that Joe Smith
is a martyr, that his brother Hiram is a martyr, and that the persecutions
of the United States Government against the prophets will also make a martyr
of Brigham Young. Who dares to say the contrary?"
No one ventured to gainsay the missionary, whose excited tone contrasted
curiously with his naturally calm visage. No doubt his anger arose
from the hardships to which the Mormons were actually subjected.
The government had just succeeded, with some difficulty, in reducing
these independent fanatics to its rule. It had made itself master of Utah,
and subjected that territory to the laws of the Union, after imprisoning
Brigham Young on a charge of rebellion and polygamy. The disciples
of the prophet had since redoubled their efforts, and resisted,
by words at least, the authority of Congress. Elder Hitch, as is seen,
was trying to make proselytes on the very railway trains.
Then, emphasising his words with his loud voice and frequent gestures,
he related the history of the Mormons from Biblical times: how that,
in Israel, a Mormon prophet of the tribe of Joseph published the annals
of the new religion, and bequeathed them to his son Mormon;
how, many centuries later, a translation of this precious book,
which was written in Egyptian, was made by Joseph Smith, junior,
a Vermont farmer, who revealed himself as a mystical prophet in 1825;
and how, in short, the celestial messenger appeared to him
in an illuminated forest, and gave him the annals of the Lord.
Several of the audience, not being much interested in
the missionary's narrative, here left the car; but Elder Hitch,
continuing his lecture, related how Smith, junior, with his father,
two brothers, and a few disciples, founded the church of the
"Latter Day Saints," which, adopted not only in America,
but in England, Norway and Sweden, and Germany, counts many artisans,
as well as men engaged in the liberal professions, among its members;
how a colony was established in Ohio, a temple erected there at a
cost of two hundred thousand dollars, and a town built at Kirkland;
how Smith became an enterprising banker, and received from a simple mummy
showman a papyrus scroll written by Abraham and several famous Egyptians.
The Elder's story became somewhat wearisome, and his audience
grew gradually less, until it was reduced to twenty passengers.
But this did not disconcert the enthusiast, who proceeded with
the story of Joseph Smith's bankruptcy in 1837, and how his ruined
creditors gave him a coat of tar and feathers; his reappearance
some years afterwards, more honourable and honoured than ever,
at Independence, Missouri, the chief of a flourishing colony
of three thousand disciples, and his pursuit thence by outraged Gentiles,
and retirement into the Far West.
Ten hearers only were now left, among them honest Passepartout,
who was listening with all his ears. Thus he learned that,
after long persecutions, Smith reappeared in Illinois,
and in 1839 founded a community at Nauvoo, on the Mississippi,
numbering twenty-five thousand souls, of which he became mayor,
chief justice, and general-in-chief; that he announced himself,
in 1843, as a candidate for the Presidency of the United States;
and that finally, being drawn into ambuscade at Carthage,
he was thrown into prison, and assassinated by a band of men
disguised in masks.
Passepartout was now the only person left in the car, and the Elder,
looking him full in the face, reminded him that, two years after
the assassination of Joseph Smith, the inspired prophet, Brigham Young,
his successor, left Nauvoo for the banks of the Great Salt Lake, where,
in the midst of that fertile region, directly on the route of the emigrants
who crossed Utah on their way to California, the new colony, thanks to
the polygamy practised by the Mormons, had flourished beyond expectations.
"And this," added Elder William Hitch, "this is why the jealousy of Congress
has been aroused against us! Why have the soldiers of the Union invaded
the soil of Utah? Why has Brigham Young, our chief, been imprisoned,
in contempt of all justice? Shall we yield to force? Never!
Driven from Vermont, driven from Illinois, driven from Ohio,
driven from Missouri, driven from Utah, we shall yet find some
independent territory on which to plant our tents. And you,
my brother," continued the Elder, fixing his angry eyes
upon his single auditor, "will you not plant yours there,
too, under the shadow of our flag?"
"No!" replied Passepartout courageously, in his turn retiring
from the car, and leaving the Elder to preach to vacancy.
During the lecture the train had been making good progress,
and towards half-past twelve it reached the northwest border
of the Great Salt Lake. Thence the passengers could observe
the vast extent of this interior sea, which is also called the Dead Sea,
and into which flows an American Jordan. It is a picturesque expanse,
framed in lofty crags in large strata, encrusted with white salt--
a superb sheet of water, which was formerly of larger extent than now,
its shores having encroached with the lapse of time, and thus at once
reduced its breadth and increased its depth.
The Salt Lake, seventy miles long and thirty-five wide,
is situated three miles eight hundred feet above the sea.
Quite different from Lake Asphaltite, whose depression
is twelve hundred feet below the sea, it contains considerable salt,
and one quarter of the weight of its water is solid matter,
its specific weight being 1,170, and, after being distilled, 1,000.
Fishes are, of course, unable to live in it, and those which descend
through the Jordan, the Weber, and other streams soon perish.
The country around the lake was well cultivated, for the Mormons
are mostly farmers; while ranches and pens for domesticated animals,
fields of wheat, corn, and other cereals, luxuriant prairies,
hedges of wild rose, clumps of acacias and milk-wort,
would have been seen six months later. Now the ground
was covered with a thin powdering of snow.
The train reached Ogden at two o'clock, where it rested for six hours,
Mr. Fogg and his party had time to pay a visit to Salt Lake City,
connected with Ogden by a branch road; and they spent two hours
in this strikingly American town, built on the pattern of other cities
of the Union, like a checker-board, "with the sombre sadness of right-angles,"
as Victor Hugo expresses it. The founder of the City of the Saints
could not escape from the taste for symmetry which distinguishes
the Anglo-Saxons. In this strange country, where the people
are certainly not up to the level of their institutions,
everything is done "squarely"--cities, houses, and follies.
The travellers, then, were promenading, at three o'clock,
about the streets of the town built between the banks of the
Jordan and the spurs of the Wahsatch Range. They saw few
or no churches, but the prophet's mansion, the court-house,
and the arsenal, blue-brick houses with verandas and porches,
surrounded by gardens bordered with acacias, palms, and locusts.
A clay and pebble wall, built in 1853, surrounded the town;
and in the principal street were the market and several hotels
adorned with pavilions. The place did not seem thickly populated.
The streets were almost deserted, except in the vicinity of the temple,
which they only reached after having traversed several quarters
surrounded by palisades. There were many women, which was easily
accounted for by the "peculiar institution" of the Mormons;
but it must not be supposed that all the Mormons are polygamists.
They are free to marry or not, as they please; but it is worth noting
that it is mainly the female citizens of Utah who are anxious to marry,
as, according to the Mormon religion, maiden ladies are not admitted
to the possession of its highest joys. These poor creatures seemed
to be neither well off nor happy. Some--the more well-to-do, no doubt--
wore short, open, black silk dresses, under a hood or modest shawl;
others were habited in Indian fashion.
Passepartout could not behold without a certain fright these women,
charged, in groups, with conferring happiness on a single Mormon.
His common sense pitied, above all, the husband. It seemed to him
a terrible thing to have to guide so many wives at once across
the vicissitudes of life, and to conduct them, as it were,
in a body to the Mormon paradise with the prospect of seeing them
in the company of the glorious Smith, who doubtless was the chief ornament
of that delightful place, to all eternity. He felt decidedly repelled
from such a vocation, and he imagined--perhaps he was mistaken--
that the fair ones of Salt Lake City cast rather alarming glances
on his person. Happily, his stay there was but brief. At four the party
found themselves again at the station, took their places in the train,
and the whistle sounded for starting. Just at the moment, however,
that the locomotive wheels began to move, cries of "Stop! stop!" were heard.
Trains, like time and tide, stop for no one. The gentleman
who uttered the cries was evidently a belated Mormon. He was
breathless with running. Happily for him, the station had neither
gates nor barriers. He rushed along the track, jumped on the rear
platform of the train, and fell, exhausted, into one of the seats.
Passepartout, who had been anxiously watching this amateur gymnast,
approached him with lively interest, and learned that he had taken flight
after an unpleasant domestic scene.
When the Mormon had recovered his breath, Passepartout ventured
to ask him politely how many wives he had; for, from the manner
in which he had decamped, it might be thought that he had twenty at least.
"One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms heavenward
--"one, and that was enough!"
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Chapter XXVIII
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT DOES NOT SUCCEED IN MAKING ANYBODY LISTEN TO REASON
The train, on leaving Great Salt Lake at Ogden, passed northward
for an hour as far as Weber River, having completed nearly nine
hundred miles from San Francisco. From this point it took
an easterly direction towards the jagged Wahsatch Mountains.
It was in the section included between this range and the
Rocky Mountains that the American engineers found the most
formidable difficulties in laying the road, and that the government
granted a subsidy of forty-eight thousand dollars per mile,
instead of sixteen thousand allowed for the work done on the plains.
But the engineers, instead of violating nature, avoided its difficulties
by winding around, instead of penetrating the rocks. One tunnel only,
fourteen thousand feet in length, was pierced in order to arrive
at the great basin.
The track up to this time had reached its highest elevation at
the Great Salt Lake. From this point it described a long curve,
descending towards Bitter Creek Valley, to rise again to the
dividing ridge of the waters between the Atlantic and the Pacific.
There were many creeks in this mountainous region, and it was necessary
to cross Muddy Creek, Green Creek, and others, upon culverts.
Passepartout grew more and more impatient as they went on,
while Fix longed to get out of this difficult region, and was more
anxious than Phileas Fogg himself to be beyond the danger of delays
and accidents, and set foot on English soil.
At ten o'clock at night the train stopped at Fort Bridger station,
and twenty minutes later entered Wyoming Territory, following the
valley of Bitter Creek throughout. The next day, 7th December,
they stopped for a quarter of an hour at Green River station.
Snow had fallen abundantly during the night, but, being mixed with rain,
it had half melted, and did not interrupt their progress. The bad weather,
however, annoyed Passepartout; for the accumulation of snow, by blocking
the wheels of the cars, would certainly have been fatal to Mr. Fogg's tour.
"What an idea!" he said to himself. "Why did my master make
this journey in winter? Couldn't he have waited for the good
season to increase his chances?"
While the worthy Frenchman was absorbed in the state of the sky
and the depression of the temperature, Aouda was experiencing
fears from a totally different cause.
Several passengers had got off at Green River, and were walking up and down
the platforms; and among these Aouda recognised Colonel Stamp Proctor,
the same who had so grossly insulted Phileas Fogg at the San Francisco meeting.
Not wishing to be recognised, the young woman drew back from the window,
feeling much alarm at her discovery. She was attached to the man who,
however coldly, gave her daily evidences of the most absolute devotion.
She did not comprehend, perhaps, the depth of the sentiment with which
her protector inspired her, which she called gratitude, but which,
though she was unconscious of it, was really more than that.
Her heart sank within her when she recognised the man whom
Mr. Fogg desired, sooner or later, to call to account for his conduct.
Chance alone, it was clear, had brought Colonel Proctor on this train;
but there he was, and it was necessary, at all hazards, that Phileas Fogg
should not perceive his adversary.
Aouda seized a moment when Mr. Fogg was asleep to tell Fix and Passepartout
whom she had seen.
"That Proctor on this train!" cried Fix. "Well, reassure yourself,
madam; before he settles with Mr. Fogg; he has got to deal with me!
It seems to me that I was the more insulted of the two."
"And, besides," added Passepartout, "I'll take charge of him,
colonel as he is."
"Mr. Fix," resumed Aouda, "Mr. Fogg will allow no one to avenge him.
He said that he would come back to America to find this man.
Should he perceive Colonel Proctor, we could not prevent a collision
which might have terrible results. He must not see him."
"You are right, madam," replied Fix; "a meeting between them
might ruin all. Whether he were victorious or beaten, Mr. Fogg
would be delayed, and--"
"And," added Passepartout, "that would play the game of the gentlemen
of the Reform Club. In four days we shall be in New York. Well,
if my master does not leave this car during those four days,
we may hope that chance will not bring him face to face with this
confounded American. We must, if possible, prevent his stirring out of it."
The conversation dropped. Mr. Fogg had just woke up,
and was looking out of the window. Soon after Passepartout,
without being heard by his master or Aouda, whispered to the detective,
"Would you really fight for him?"
"I would do anything," replied Fix, in a tone which betrayed determined will,
"to get him back living to Europe!"
Passepartout felt something like a shudder shoot through his frame,
but his confidence in his master remained unbroken.
Was there any means of detaining Mr. Fogg in the car, to avoid a meeting
between him and the colonel? It ought not to be a difficult task,
since that gentleman was naturally sedentary and little curious.
The detective, at least, seemed to have found a way; for, after a few moments,
he said to Mr. Fogg, "These are long and slow hours, sir, that we are passing
on the railway."
"Yes," replied Mr. Fogg; "but they pass."
"You were in the habit of playing whist," resumed Fix, "on the steamers."
"Yes; but it would be difficult to do so here. I have neither cards
nor partners."
"Oh, but we can easily buy some cards, for they are sold
on all the American trains. And as for partners, if madam plays--"
"Certainly, sir," Aouda quickly replied; "I understand whist.
It is part of an English education."
"I myself have some pretensions to playing a good game.
Well, here are three of us, and a dummy--"
"As you please, sir," replied Phileas Fogg, heartily glad
to resume his favourite pastime even on the railway.
Passepartout was dispatched in search of the steward,
and soon returned with two packs of cards, some pins,
counters, and a shelf covered with cloth.
The game commenced. Aouda understood whist sufficiently well,
and even received some compliments on her playing from Mr. Fogg.
As for the detective, he was simply an adept, and worthy of being
matched against his present opponent.
"Now," thought Passepartout, "we've got him. He won't budge."
At eleven in the morning the train had reached the dividing ridge of the waters
at Bridger Pass, seven thousand five hundred and twenty-four feet above
the level of the sea, one of the highest points attained by the track
in crossing the Rocky Mountains. After going about two hundred miles,
the travellers at last found themselves on one of those vast plains
which extend to the Atlantic, and which nature has made so propitious
for laying the iron road.
On the declivity of the Atlantic basin the first streams,
branches of the North Platte River, already appeared.
The whole northern and eastern horizon was bounded by the immense
semi-circular curtain which is formed by the southern portion
of the Rocky Mountains, the highest being Laramie Peak.
Between this and the railway extended vast plains,
plentifully irrigated. On the right rose the lower spurs
of the mountainous mass which extends southward to the sources
of the Arkansas River, one of the great tributaries of the Missouri.
At half-past twelve the travellers caught sight for an instant of Fort Halleck,
which commands that section; and in a few more hours the Rocky Mountains
were crossed. There was reason to hope, then, that no accident would mark
the journey through this difficult country. The snow had ceased falling,
and the air became crisp and cold. Large birds, frightened by the locomotive,
rose and flew off in the distance. No wild beast appeared on the plain.
It was a desert in its vast nakedness.
After a comfortable breakfast, served in the car, Mr. Fogg and his partners had
just resumed whist, when a violent whistling was heard, and the train stopped.
Passepartout put his head out of the door, but saw nothing to cause the delay;
no station was in view.
Aouda and Fix feared that Mr. Fogg might take it into his head to get out;
but that gentleman contented himself with saying to his servant,
"See what is the matter."
Passepartout rushed out of the car. Thirty or forty passengers
had already descended, amongst them Colonel Stamp Proctor.
The train had stopped before a red signal which blocked the way.
The engineer and conductor were talking excitedly with a signal-man,
whom the station-master at Medicine Bow, the next stopping place,
had sent on before. The passengers drew around and took part
in the discussion, in which Colonel Proctor, with his insolent manner,
was conspicuous.
Passepartout, joining the group, heard the signal-man say,
"No! you can't pass. The bridge at Medicine Bow is shaky,
and would not bear the weight of the train."
This was a suspension-bridge thrown over some rapids, about a
mile from the place where they now were. According to the
signal-man, it was in a ruinous condition, several of the iron
wires being broken; and it was impossible to risk the passage.
He did not in any way exaggerate the condition of the bridge.
It may be taken for granted that, rash as the Americans usually are,
when they are prudent there is good reason for it.
Passepartout, not daring to apprise his master of what he heard,
listened with set teeth, immovable as a statue.
"Hum!" cried Colonel Proctor; "but we are not going to stay here,
I imagine, and take root in the snow?"
"Colonel," replied the conductor, "we have telegraphed to Omaha for a train,
but it is not likely that it will reach Medicine Bow is less than six hours."
"Six hours!" cried Passepartout.
"Certainly," returned the conductor, "besides, it will take us as long
as that to reach Medicine Bow on foot."
"But it is only a mile from here," said one of the passengers.
"Yes, but it's on the other side of the river."
"And can't we cross that in a boat?" asked the colonel.
"That's impossible. The creek is swelled by the rains. It is a rapid,
and we shall have to make a circuit of ten miles to the north to find a ford."
The colonel launched a volley of oaths, denouncing the railway
company and the conductor; and Passepartout, who was furious,
was not disinclined to make common cause with him. Here was
an obstacle, indeed, which all his master's banknotes could not remove.
There was a general disappointment among the passengers, who,
without reckoning the delay, saw themselves compelled to trudge
fifteen miles over a plain covered with snow. They grumbled and
protested, and would certainly have thus attracted Phileas Fogg's
attention if he had not been completely absorbed in his game.
Passepartout found that he could not avoid telling his master what
had occurred, and, with hanging head, he was turning towards the car,
when the engineer a true Yankee, named Forster called out,
"Gentlemen, perhaps there is a way, after all, to get over."
"On the bridge?" asked a passenger.
"On the bridge."
"With our train?"
"With our train."
Passepartout stopped short, and eagerly listened to the engineer.
"But the bridge is unsafe," urged the conductor.
"No matter," replied Forster; "I think that by putting on the
very highest speed we might have a chance of getting over."
"The devil!" muttered Passepartout.
But a number of the passengers were at once attracted by the
engineer's proposal, and Colonel Proctor was especially delighted,
and found the plan a very feasible one. He told stories about
engineers leaping their trains over rivers without bridges,
by putting on full steam; and many of those present avowed
themselves of the engineer's mind.
"We have fifty chances out of a hundred of getting over," said one.
"Eighty! ninety!"
Passepartout was astounded, and, though ready to attempt anything to get
over Medicine Creek, thought the experiment proposed a little too American.
"Besides," thought he, "there's a still more simple way, and it does not even
occur to any of these people! Sir," said he aloud to one of the passengers,
"the engineer's plan seems to me a little dangerous, but--"
"Eighty chances!" replied the passenger, turning his back on him.
"I know it," said Passepartout, turning to another passenger,
"but a simple idea--"
"Ideas are no use," returned the American, shrugging his shoulders,
"as the engineer assures us that we can pass."
"Doubtless," urged Passepartout, "we can pass, but perhaps it would
be more prudent--"
"What! Prudent!" cried Colonel Proctor, whom this word seemed
to excite prodigiously. "At full speed, don't you see, at full speed!"
"I know--I see," repeated Passepartout; "but it would be, if not more prudent,
since that word displeases you, at least more natural--"
"Who! What! What's the matter with this fellow?" cried several.
The poor fellow did not know to whom to address himself.
"Are you afraid?" asked Colonel Proctor.
"I afraid? Very well; I will show these people that a Frenchman
can be as American as they!"
"All aboard!" cried the conductor.
"Yes, all aboard!" repeated Passepartout, and immediately.
"But they can't prevent me from thinking that it would be more natural
for us to cross the bridge on foot, and let the train come after!"
But no one heard this sage reflection, nor would anyone have acknowledged
its justice. The passengers resumed their places in the cars.
Passepartout took his seat without telling what had passed.
The whist-players were quite absorbed in their game.
The locomotive whistled vigorously; the engineer, reversing the steam,
backed the train for nearly a mile--retiring, like a jumper, in order
to take a longer leap. Then, with another whistle, he began to move forward;
the train increased its speed, and soon its rapidity became frightful;
a prolonged screech issued from the locomotive; the piston worked up and down
twenty strokes to the second. They perceived that the whole train, rushing
on at the rate of a hundred miles an hour, hardly bore upon the rails at all.
And they passed over! It was like a flash. No one saw the bridge.
The train leaped, so to speak, from one bank to the other,
and the engineer could not stop it until it had gone five miles
beyond the station. But scarcely had the train passed the river,
when the bridge, completely ruined, fell with a crash into the rapids
of Medicine Bow.
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IN WHICH CERTAIN INCIDENTS ARE NARRATED
WHICH ARE ONLY TO BE MET WITH ON AMERICAN RAILROADS
The train pursued its course, that evening, without interruption,
passing Fort Saunders, crossing Cheyne Pass, and reaching Evans Pass.
The road here attained the highest elevation of the journey,
eight thousand and ninety-two feet above the level of the sea.
The travellers had now only to descend to the Atlantic by limitless plains,
levelled by nature. A branch of the "grand trunk" led off southward to Denver,
the capital of Colorado. The country round about is rich in gold and silver,
and more than fifty thousand inhabitants are already settled there.
Thirteen hundred and eighty-two miles had been passed over from San Francisco,
in three days and three nights; four days and nights more would probably
bring them to New York. Phileas Fogg was not as yet behind-hand.
During the night Camp Walbach was passed on the left; Lodge Pole Creek
ran parallel with the road, marking the boundary between the territories
of Wyoming and Colorado. They entered Nebraska at eleven, passed near
Sedgwick, and touched at Julesburg, on the southern branch of the Platte River.
It was here that the Union Pacific Railroad was inaugurated on
the 23rd of October, 1867, by the chief engineer, General Dodge.
Two powerful locomotives, carrying nine cars of invited guests,
amongst whom was Thomas C. Durant, vice-president of the road,
stopped at this point; cheers were given, the Sioux and Pawnees
performed an imitation Indian battle, fireworks were let off,
and the first number of the Railway Pioneer was printed by a press
brought on the train. Thus was celebrated the inauguration
of this great railroad, a mighty instrument of progress
and civilisation, thrown across the desert, and destined to link
together cities and towns which do not yet exist. The whistle
of the locomotive, more powerful than Amphion's lyre, was about
to bid them rise from American soil.
Fort McPherson was left behind at eight in the morning,
and three hundred and fifty-seven miles had yet to be traversed
before reaching Omaha. The road followed the capricious windings
of the southern branch of the Platte River, on its left bank.
At nine the train stopped at the important town of North Platte,
built between the two arms of the river, which rejoin each other
around it and form a single artery a large tributary whose waters
empty into the Missouri a little above Omaha.
The one hundred and first meridian was passed.
Mr. Fogg and his partners had resumed their game; no one--not even the dummy--
complained of the length of the trip. Fix had begun by winning several
guineas, which he seemed likely to lose; but he showed himself a not less
eager whist-player than Mr. Fogg. During the morning, chance distinctly
favoured that gentleman. Trumps and honours were showered upon his hands.
Once, having resolved on a bold stroke, he was on the point of playing a spade,
when a voice behind him said, "I should play a diamond."
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix raised their heads, and beheld Colonel Proctor.
Stamp Proctor and Phileas Fogg recognised each other at once.
"Ah! it's you, is it, Englishman?" cried the colonel;
"it's you who are going to play a spade!"
"And who plays it," replied Phileas Fogg coolly,
throwing down the ten of spades.
"Well, it pleases me to have it diamonds,"
replied Colonel Proctor, in an insolent tone.
He made a movement as if to seize the card which had just been played,
adding, "You don't understand anything about whist."
"Perhaps I do, as well as another," said Phileas Fogg, rising.
"You have only to try, son of John Bull," replied the colonel.
Aouda turned pale, and her blood ran cold. She seized Mr. Fogg's
arm and gently pulled him back. Passepartout was ready to pounce
upon the American, who was staring insolently at his opponent.
But Fix got up, and, going to Colonel Proctor said, "You forget
that it is I with whom you have to deal, sir; for it was I
whom you not only insulted, but struck!"
"Mr. Fix," said Mr. Fogg, "pardon me, but this affair is mine,
and mine only. The colonel has again insulted me, by insisting
that I should not play a spade, and he shall give me satisfaction for it."
"When and where you will," replied the American, "and with whatever
weapon you choose."
Aouda in vain attempted to retain Mr. Fogg; as vainly did the
detective endeavour to make the quarrel his. Passepartout wished
to throw the colonel out of the window, but a sign from his master
checked him. Phileas Fogg left the car, and the American followed
him upon the platform. "Sir," said Mr. Fogg to his adversary,
"I am in a great hurry to get back to Europe, and any delay whatever
will be greatly to my disadvantage."
"Well, what's that to me?" replied Colonel Proctor.
"Sir," said Mr. Fogg, very politely, "after our meeting at San Francisco,
I determined to return to America and find you as soon as I had completed
the business which called me to England."
"Really!"
"Will you appoint a meeting for six months hence?"
"Why not ten years hence?"
"I say six months," returned Phileas Fogg; "and I shall be
at the place of meeting promptly."
"All this is an evasion," cried Stamp Proctor. "Now or never!"
"Very good. You are going to New York?"
"No."
"To Chicago?"
"No."
"To Omaha?"
"What difference is it to you? Do you know Plum Creek?"
"No," replied Mr. Fogg.
"It's the next station. The train will be there in an hour,
and will stop there ten minutes. In ten minutes several
revolver-shots could be exchanged."
"Very well," said Mr. Fogg. "I will stop at Plum Creek."
"And I guess you'll stay there too," added the American insolently.
"Who knows?" replied Mr. Fogg, returning to the car as coolly as usual.
He began to reassure Aouda, telling her that blusterers were never
to be feared, and begged Fix to be his second at the approaching duel,
a request which the detective could not refuse. Mr. Fogg resumed
the interrupted game with perfect calmness.
At eleven o'clock the locomotive's whistle announced that they were
approaching Plum Creek station. Mr. Fogg rose, and, followed by Fix,
went out upon the platform. Passepartout accompanied him, carrying
a pair of revolvers. Aouda remained in the car, as pale as death.
The door of the next car opened, and Colonel Proctor appeared on the platform,
attended by a Yankee of his own stamp as his second. But just as the
combatants were about to step from the train, the conductor hurried up,
and shouted, "You can't get off, gentlemen!"
"Why not?" asked the colonel.
"We are twenty minutes late, and we shall not stop."
"But I am going to fight a duel with this gentleman."
"I am sorry," said the conductor; "but we shall be off at once.
There's the bell ringing now."
The train started.
"I'm really very sorry, gentlemen," said the conductor.
"Under any other circumstances I should have been happy to oblige you.
But, after all, as you have not had time to fight here,
why not fight as we go along?
"That wouldn't be convenient, perhaps, for this gentleman,"
said the colonel, in a jeering tone.
"It would be perfectly so," replied Phileas Fogg.
"Well, we are really in America," thought Passepartout,
"and the conductor is a gentleman of the first order!"
So muttering, he followed his master.
The two combatants, their seconds, and the conductor passed through
the cars to the rear of the train. The last car was only occupied
by a dozen passengers, whom the conductor politely asked if they would
not be so kind as to leave it vacant for a few moments, as two gentlemen
had an affair of honour to settle. The passengers granted the request
with alacrity, and straightway disappeared on the platform.
The car, which was some fifty feet long, was very convenient
for their purpose. The adversaries might march on each other
in the aisle, and fire at their ease. Never was duel more easily
arranged. Mr. Fogg and Colonel Proctor, each provided with two
six-barrelled revolvers, entered the car. The seconds, remaining
outside, shut them in. They were to begin firing at the first
whistle of the locomotive. After an interval of two minutes,
what remained of the two gentlemen would be taken from the car.
Nothing could be more simple. Indeed, it was all so simple
that Fix and Passepartout felt their hearts beating as if they
would crack. They were listening for the whistle agreed upon,
when suddenly savage cries resounded in the air, accompanied
by reports which certainly did not issue from the car where
the duellists were. The reports continued in front and the whole
length of the train. Cries of terror proceeded from the interior
of the cars.
Colonel Proctor and Mr. Fogg, revolvers in hand, hastily quitted
their prison, and rushed forward where the noise was most clamorous.
They then perceived that the train was attacked by a band of Sioux.
This was not the first attempt of these daring Indians, for more than
once they had waylaid trains on the road. A hundred of them had,
according to their habit, jumped upon the steps without stopping
the train, with the ease of a clown mounting a horse at full gallop.
The Sioux were armed with guns, from which came the reports,
to which the passengers, who were almost all armed, responded
by revolver-shots.
The Indians had first mounted the engine, and half stunned
the engineer and stoker with blows from their muskets.
A Sioux chief, wishing to stop the train, but not knowing
how to work the regulator, had opened wide instead of closing
the steam-valve, and the locomotive was plunging forward
with terrific velocity.
The Sioux had at the same time invaded the cars, skipping like
enraged monkeys over the roofs, thrusting open the doors,
and fighting hand to hand with the passengers. Penetrating the
baggage-car, they pillaged it, throwing the trunks out of the train.
The cries and shots were constant. The travellers defended
themselves bravely; some of the cars were barricaded,
and sustained a siege, like moving forts, carried along
at a speed of a hundred miles an hour.
Aouda behaved courageously from the first. She defended herself
like a true heroine with a revolver, which she shot through the broken
windows whenever a savage made his appearance. Twenty Sioux had fallen
mortally wounded to the ground, and the wheels crushed those who fell
upon the rails as if they had been worms. Several passengers,
shot or stunned, lay on the seats.
It was necessary to put an end to the struggle, which had lasted
for ten minutes, and which would result in the triumph of the Sioux
if the train was not stopped. Fort Kearney station, where there was
a garrison, was only two miles distant; but, that once passed,
the Sioux would be masters of the train between Fort Kearney
and the station beyond.
The conductor was fighting beside Mr. Fogg, when he was shot and fell.
At the same moment he cried, "Unless the train is stopped in five minutes,
we are lost!"
"It shall be stopped," said Phileas Fogg, preparing to rush from the car.
"Stay, monsieur," cried Passepartout; "I will go."
Mr. Fogg had not time to stop the brave fellow, who, opening a door
unperceived by the Indians, succeeded in slipping under the car;
and while the struggle continued and the balls whizzed across each
other over his head, he made use of his old acrobatic experience,
and with amazing agility worked his way under the cars, holding on
to the chains, aiding himself by the brakes and edges of the sashes,
creeping from one car to another with marvellous skill,
and thus gaining the forward end of the train.
There, suspended by one hand between the baggage-car and the tender,
with the other he loosened the safety chains; but, owing to the traction,
he would never have succeeded in unscrewing the yoking-bar,
had not a violent concussion jolted this bar out. The train,
now detached from the engine, remained a little behind,
whilst the locomotive rushed forward with increased speed.
Carried on by the force already acquired, the train still moved
for several minutes; but the brakes were worked and at last they stopped,
less than a hundred feet from Kearney station.
The soldiers of the fort, attracted by the shots, hurried up;
the Sioux had not expected them, and decamped in a body before
the train entirely stopped.
But when the passengers counted each other on the station platform
several were found missing; among others the courageous Frenchman,
whose devotion had just saved them.
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Chapter XXX
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SIMPLY DOES HIS DUTY
Three passengers including Passepartout had disappeared. Had they been
killed in the struggle? Were they taken prisoners by the Sioux?
It was impossible to tell.
There were many wounded, but none mortally. Colonel Proctor was one
of the most seriously hurt; he had fought bravely, and a ball had entered
his groin. He was carried into the station with the other wounded passengers,
to receive such attention as could be of avail.
Aouda was safe; and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the thickest
of the fight, had not received a scratch. Fix was slightly
wounded in the arm. But Passepartout was not to be found,
and tears coursed down Aouda's cheeks.
All the passengers had got out of the train, the wheels
of which were stained with blood. From the tyres and spokes
hung ragged pieces of flesh. As far as the eye could reach
on the white plain behind, red trails were visible. The last Sioux
were disappearing in the south, along the banks of Republican River.
Mr. Fogg, with folded arms, remained motionless. He had a serious
decision to make. Aouda, standing near him, looked at him without speaking,
and he understood her look. If his servant was a prisoner, ought he not
to risk everything to rescue him from the Indians? "I will find him,
living or dead," said he quietly to Aouda.
"Ah, Mr.--Mr. Fogg!" cried she, clasping his hands
and covering them with tears.
"Living," added Mr. Fogg, "if we do not lose a moment."
Phileas Fogg, by this resolution, inevitably sacrificed himself;
he pronounced his own doom. The delay of a single day would make
him lose the steamer at New York, and his bet would be certainly lost.
But as he thought, "It is my duty," he did not hesitate.
The commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there. A hundred
of his soldiers had placed themselves in a position to defend
the station, should the Sioux attack it.
"Sir," said Mr. Fogg to the captain, "three passengers have disappeared."
"Dead?" asked the captain.
"Dead or prisoners; that is the uncertainty which must be solved.
Do you propose to pursue the Sioux?"
"That's a serious thing to do, sir," returned the captain.
"These Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot
leave the fort unprotected."
"The lives of three men are in question, sir," said Phileas Fogg.
"Doubtless; but can I risk the lives of fifty men to save three?"
"I don't know whether you can, sir; but you ought to do so."
"Nobody here," returned the other, "has a right to teach me my duty."
"Very well," said Mr. Fogg, coldly. "I will go alone."
"You, sir!" cried Fix, coming up; "you go alone in pursuit of the Indians?"
"Would you have me leave this poor fellow to perish--
him to whom every one present owes his life? I shall go."
"No, sir, you shall not go alone," cried the captain,
touched in spite of himself. "No! you are a brave man.
Thirty volunteers!" he added, turning to the soldiers.
The whole company started forward at once. The captain had
only to pick his men. Thirty were chosen, and an old sergeant
placed at their head.
"Thanks, captain," said Mr. Fogg.
"Will you let me go with you?" asked Fix.
"Do as you please, sir. But if you wish to do me a favour,
you will remain with Aouda. In case anything should happen to me--"
A sudden pallor overspread the detective's face. Separate himself
from the man whom he had so persistently followed step by step!
Leave him to wander about in this desert! Fix gazed attentively
at Mr. Fogg, and, despite his suspicions and of the struggle
which was going on within him, he lowered his eyes before that calm
and frank look.
"I will stay," said he.
A few moments after, Mr. Fogg pressed the young woman's hand, and,
having confided to her his precious carpet-bag, went off with the sergeant
and his little squad. But, before going, he had said to the soldiers,
"My friends, I will divide five thousand dollars among you, if we save
the prisoners."
It was then a little past noon.
Aouda retired to a waiting-room, and there she waited alone,
thinking of the simple and noble generosity, the tranquil courage
of Phileas Fogg. He had sacrificed his fortune, and was now
risking his life, all without hesitation, from duty, in silence.
Fix did not have the same thoughts, and could scarcely conceal
his agitation. He walked feverishly up and down the platform,
but soon resumed his outward composure. He now saw the folly of which
he had been guilty in letting Fogg go alone. What! This man,
whom he had just followed around the world, was permitted now to
separate himself from him! He began to accuse and abuse himself,
and, as if he were director of police, administered to himself
a sound lecture for his greenness.
"I have been an idiot!" he thought, "and this man will see it.
He has gone, and won't come back! But how is it that I, Fix,
who have in my pocket a warrant for his arrest, have been
so fascinated by him? Decidedly, I am nothing but an ass!"
So reasoned the detective, while the hours crept by all too slowly.
He did not know what to do. Sometimes he was tempted to tell Aouda all;
but he could not doubt how the young woman would receive his confidences.
What course should he take? He thought of pursuing Fogg across
the vast white plains; it did not seem impossible that he might overtake him.
Footsteps were easily printed on the snow! But soon, under a new sheet,
every imprint would be effaced.
Fix became discouraged. He felt a sort of insurmountable longing
to abandon the game altogether. He could now leave Fort Kearney station,
and pursue his journey homeward in peace.
Towards two o'clock in the afternoon, while it was snowing hard,
long whistles were heard approaching from the east. A great shadow,
preceded by a wild light, slowly advanced, appearing still larger
through the mist, which gave it a fantastic aspect. No train
was expected from the east, neither had there been time for the succour
asked for by telegraph to arrive; the train from Omaha to San Francisco
was not due till the next day. The mystery was soon explained.
The locomotive, which was slowly approaching with deafening whistles,
was that which, having been detached from the train, had continued
its route with such terrific rapidity, carrying off the unconscious
engineer and stoker. It had run several miles, when, the fire becoming
low for want of fuel, the steam had slackened; and it had finally stopped
an hour after, some twenty miles beyond Fort Kearney. Neither the engineer
nor the stoker was dead, and, after remaining for some time in their swoon,
had come to themselves. The train had then stopped. The engineer, when he
found himself in the desert, and the locomotive without cars, understood
what had happened. He could not imagine how the locomotive had become
separated from the train; but he did not doubt that the train left behind
was in distress.
He did not hesitate what to do. It would be prudent to continue
on to Omaha, for it would be dangerous to return to the train,
which the Indians might still be engaged in pillaging.
Nevertheless, he began to rebuild the fire in the furnace;
the pressure again mounted, and the locomotive returned,
running backwards to Fort Kearney. This it was which was whistling
in the mist.
The travellers were glad to see the locomotive resume its
place at the head of the train. They could now continue
the journey so terribly interrupted.
Aouda, on seeing the locomotive come up, hurried out of the station,
and asked the conductor, "Are you going to start?"
"At once, madam."
"But the prisoners, our unfortunate fellow-travellers--"
"I cannot interrupt the trip," replied the conductor.
"We are already three hours behind time."
"And when will another train pass here from San Francisco?"
"To-morrow evening, madam."
"To-morrow evening! But then it will be too late! We must wait--"
"It is impossible," responded the conductor. "If you wish to go,
please get in."
"I will not go," said Aouda.
Fix had heard this conversation. A little while before, when there
was no prospect of proceeding on the journey, he had made up his mind
to leave Fort Kearney; but now that the train was there, ready to start,
and he had only to take his seat in the car, an irresistible influence
held him back. The station platform burned his feet, and he could not stir.
The conflict in his mind again began; anger and failure stifled him.
He wished to struggle on to the end.
Meanwhile the passengers and some of the wounded, among them
Colonel Proctor, whose injuries were serious, had taken their
places in the train. The buzzing of the over-heated boiler was
heard, and the steam was escaping from the valves. The engineer
whistled, the train started, and soon disappeared, mingling
its white smoke with the eddies of the densely falling snow.
The detective had remained behind.
Several hours passed. The weather was dismal, and it was very cold.
Fix sat motionless on a bench in the station; he might have been
thought asleep. Aouda, despite the storm, kept coming out
of the waiting-room, going to the end of the platform,
and peering through the tempest of snow, as if to pierce
the mist which narrowed the horizon around her, and to hear,
if possible, some welcome sound. She heard and saw nothing.
Then she would return, chilled through, to issue out again
after the lapse of a few moments, but always in vain.
Evening came, and the little band had not returned. Where could they be?
Had they found the Indians, and were they having a conflict with them,
or were they still wandering amid the mist? The commander of the fort
was anxious, though he tried to conceal his apprehensions.
As night approached, the snow fell less plentifully,
but it became intensely cold. Absolute silence rested on the plains.
Neither flight of bird nor passing of beast troubled the perfect calm.
Throughout the night Aouda, full of sad forebodings, her heart
stifled with anguish, wandered about on the verge of the plains.
Her imagination carried her far off, and showed her innumerable dangers.
What she suffered through the long hours it would be impossible to describe.
Fix remained stationary in the same place, but did not sleep.
Once a man approached and spoke to him, and the detective
merely replied by shaking his head.
Thus the night passed. At dawn, the half-extinguished disc of the sun
rose above a misty horizon; but it was now possible to recognise objects
two miles off. Phileas Fogg and the squad had gone southward;
in the south all was still vacancy. It was then seven o'clock.
The captain, who was really alarmed, did not know what course to take.
Should he send another detachment to the rescue of the first?
Should he sacrifice more men, with so few chances of saving those
already sacrificed? His hesitation did not last long, however.
Calling one of his lieutenants, he was on the point of ordering
a reconnaissance, when gunshots were heard. Was it a signal?
The soldiers rushed out of the fort, and half a mile off they
perceived a little band returning in good order.
Mr. Fogg was marching at their head, and just behind him were
Passepartout and the other two travellers, rescued from the Sioux.
They had met and fought the Indians ten miles south of Fort Kearney.
Shortly before the detachment arrived. Passepartout and his companions
had begun to struggle with their captors, three of whom the Frenchman
had felled with his fists, when his master and the soldiers hastened up
to their relief.
All were welcomed with joyful cries. Phileas Fogg distributed
the reward he had promised to the soldiers, while Passepartout,
not without reason, muttered to himself, "It must certainly be
confessed that I cost my master dear!"
Fix, without saying a word, looked at Mr. Fogg, and it would have
been difficult to analyse the thoughts which struggled within him.
As for Aouda, she took her protector's hand and pressed it in her own,
too much moved to speak.
Meanwhile, Passepartout was looking about for the train; he thought
he should find it there, ready to start for Omaha, and he hoped
that the time lost might be regained.
"The train! the train!" cried he.
"Gone," replied Fix.
"And when does the next train pass here?" said Phileas Fogg.
"Not till this evening."
"Ah!" returned the impassible gentleman quietly.
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You are now at the end of the section:
"Around the World in 80 Days,
Chapters 26-30"
