《Around the World In 80 Days》 CHAPTER28
by Jules Verne
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 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, December 7th, 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 Fiver, and were walking up
and down the platforms; and among these Aouda recognized Colonel Stamp
Proctor, the same who had so grossly insulted Phileas Fogg at the San
Francisco meeting. Not wishing to be recognized, 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 recognized 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 woken 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 despatched 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 semicircular 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 signalman 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 in 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 bank-notes 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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