Around the World in 80 Days, by Jules Verne

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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.

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