by Jules Verne
Chapter XXVIII
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT DOES NOT SUCCEED IN MAKING ANYBODY LISTEN TOREASON
The train, on leaving Great Salt Lake at Ogden, passed northward for anhour as far as Weber River, having completed nearly nine hundred milesfrom San Francisco. From this point it took an easterly directiontowards the jagged Wahsatch Mountains. It was in the section includedbetween this range and the Rocky Mountains that the American engineersfound the most formidable difficulties in laying the road, and that thegovernment 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 itsdifficulties by winding around, instead of penetrating the rocks. Onetunnel only, fourteen thousand feet in length, was pierced in order toarrive at the great basin.
The track up to this time had reached its highest elevation at theGreat Salt Lake. From this point it described a long curve, descendingtowards Bitter Creek Valley, to rise again to the dividing ridge of thewaters between the Atlantic and the Pacific. There were many creeks inthis 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 Fixlonged to get out of this difficult region, and was more anxious thanPhileas 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, andtwenty minutes later entered Wyoming Territory, following the valley ofBitter Creek throughout. The next day, 7th December, they stopped fora quarter of an hour at Green River station. Snow had fallenabundantly during the night, but, being mixed with rain, it had halfmelted, and did not interrupt their progress. The bad weather,however, annoyed Passepartout; for the accumulation of snow, byblocking 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 thisjourney in winter? Couldn't he have waited for the good season toincrease his chances?"
While the worthy Frenchman was absorbed in the state of the sky and thedepression of the temperature, Aouda was experiencing fears from atotally different cause.
Several passengers had got off at Green River, and were walking up anddown the platforms; and among these Aouda recognised Colonel StampProctor, the same who had so grossly insulted Phileas Fogg at the SanFrancisco meeting. Not wishing to be recognised, the young woman drewback from the window, feeling much alarm at her discovery. She wasattached to the man who, however coldly, gave her daily evidences ofthe most absolute devotion. She did not comprehend, perhaps, the depthof the sentiment with which her protector inspired her, which shecalled gratitude, but which, though she was unconscious of it, wasreally more than that. Her heart sank within her when she recognisedthe man whom Mr. Fogg desired, sooner or later, to call to account forhis conduct. Chance alone, it was clear, had brought Colonel Proctoron 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 andPassepartout 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! Itseems to me that I was the more insulted of the two."
"And, besides," added Passepartout, "I'll take charge of him, colonelas 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 heperceive Colonel Proctor, we could not prevent a collision which mighthave terrible results. He must not see him."
"You are right, madam," replied Fix; "a meeting between them might ruinall. Whether he were victorious or beaten, Mr. Fogg would be delayed,and--"
"And," added Passepartout, "that would play the game of the gentlemenof the Reform Club. In four days we shall be in New York. Well, if mymaster does not leave this car during those four days, we may hope thatchance 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 lookingout of the window. Soon after Passepartout, without being heard by hismaster or Aouda, whispered to the detective, "Would you really fightfor him?"
"I would do anything," replied Fix, in a tone which betrayed determinedwill, "to get him back living to Europe!"
Passepartout felt something like a shudder shoot through his frame, buthis confidence in his master remained unbroken.
Was there any means of detaining Mr. Fogg in the car, to avoid ameeting between him and the colonel? It ought not to be a difficulttask, since that gentleman was naturally sedentary and little curious.The detective, at least, seemed to have found a way; for, after a fewmoments, he said to Mr. Fogg, "These are long and slow hours, sir, thatwe are passing on the railway."
"Yes," replied Mr. Fogg; "but they pass."
"You were in the habit of playing whist," resumed Fix, "on thesteamers."
"Yes; but it would be difficult to do so here. I have neither cardsnor partners."
"Oh, but we can easily buy some cards, for they are sold on all theAmerican trains. And as for partners, if madam plays--"
"Certainly, sir," Aouda quickly replied; "I understand whist. It ispart of an English education."
"I myself have some pretensions to playing a good game. Well, here arethree of us, and a dummy--"
"As you please, sir," replied Phileas Fogg, heartily glad to resume hisfavourite pastime even on the railway.
Passepartout was dispatched in search of the steward, and soon returnedwith two packs of cards, some pins, counters, and a shelf covered withcloth.
The game commenced. Aouda understood whist sufficiently well, and evenreceived some compliments on her playing from Mr. Fogg. As for thedetective, he was simply an adept, and worthy of being matched againsthis 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 ofthe waters at Bridger Pass, seven thousand five hundred and twenty-fourfeet above the level of the sea, one of the highest points attained bythe track in crossing the Rocky Mountains. After going about twohundred miles, the travellers at last found themselves on one of thosevast plains which extend to the Atlantic, and which nature has made sopropitious for laying the iron road.
On the declivity of the Atlantic basin the first streams, branches ofthe North Platte River, already appeared. The whole northern andeastern horizon was bounded by the immense semi-circular curtain whichis formed by the southern portion of the Rocky Mountains, the highestbeing Laramie Peak. Between this and the railway extended vast plains,plentifully irrigated. On the right rose the lower spurs of themountainous mass which extends southward to the sources of the ArkansasRiver, one of the great tributaries of the Missouri.
At half-past twelve the travellers caught sight for an instant of FortHalleck, which commands that section; and in a few more hours the RockyMountains were crossed. There was reason to hope, then, that noaccident would mark the journey through this difficult country. Thesnow had ceased falling, and the air became crisp and cold. Largebirds, frightened by the locomotive, rose and flew off in the distance.No wild beast appeared on the plain. It was a desert in its vastnakedness.
After a comfortable breakfast, served in the car, Mr. Fogg and hispartners had just resumed whist, when a violent whistling was heard,and the train stopped. Passepartout put his head out of the door, butsaw nothing to cause the delay; no station was in view.
Aouda and Fix feared that Mr. Fogg might take it into his head to getout; 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 hadalready descended, amongst them Colonel Stamp Proctor.
The train had stopped before a red signal which blocked the way. Theengineer and conductor were talking excitedly with a signal-man, whomthe station-master at Medicine Bow, the next stopping place, had senton 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! youcan't pass. The bridge at Medicine Bow is shaky, and would not bearthe weight of the train."
This was a suspension-bridge thrown over some rapids, about a mile fromthe place where they now were. According to the signal-man, it was ina ruinous condition, several of the iron wires being broken; and it wasimpossible to risk the passage. He did not in any way exaggerate thecondition of the bridge. It may be taken for granted that, rash as theAmericans usually are, when they are prudent there is good reason forit.
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, Iimagine, and take root in the snow?"
"Colonel," replied the conductor, "we have telegraphed to Omaha for atrain, but it is not likely that it will reach Medicine Bow in lessthan six hours."
"Six hours!" cried Passepartout.
"Certainly," returned the conductor, "besides, it will take us as longas 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 aford."
The colonel launched a volley of oaths, denouncing the railway companyand the conductor; and Passepartout, who was furious, was notdisinclined 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, withoutreckoning the delay, saw themselves compelled to trudge fifteen milesover a plain covered with snow. They grumbled and protested, and wouldcertainly have thus attracted Phileas Fogg's attention if he had notbeen completely absorbed in his game.
Passepartout found that he could not avoid telling his master what hadoccurred, and, with hanging head, he was turning towards the car, whenthe 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 veryhighest 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'sproposal, and Colonel Proctor was especially delighted, and found theplan a very feasible one. He told stories about engineers leapingtheir trains over rivers without bridges, by putting on full steam; andmany 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 toget over Medicine Creek, thought the experiment proposed a little tooAmerican. "Besides," thought he, "there's a still more simple way, andit does not even occur to any of these people! Sir," said he aloud toone of the passengers, "the engineer's plan seems to me a littledangerous, but--"
"Eighty chances!" replied the passenger, turning his back on him.
"I know it," said Passepartout, turning to another passenger, "but asimple idea--"
"Ideas are no use," returned the American, shrugging his shoulders, "asthe engineer assures us that we can pass."
"Doubtless," urged Passepartout, "we can pass, but perhaps it would bemore prudent--"
"What! Prudent!" cried Colonel Proctor, whom this word seemed toexcite prodigiously. "At full speed, don't you see, at full speed!"
"I know--I see," repeated Passepartout; "but it would be, if not moreprudent, 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 beas American as they!"
"All aboard!" cried the conductor.
"Yes, all aboard!" repeated Passepartout, and immediately. "But theycan't prevent me from thinking that it would be more natural for us tocross the bridge on foot, and let the train come after!"
But no one heard this sage reflection, nor would anyone haveacknowledged its justice. The passengers resumed their places in thecars. Passepartout took his seat without telling what had passed. Thewhist-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 orderto take a longer leap. Then, with another whistle, he began to moveforward; the train increased its speed, and soon its rapidity becamefrightful; a prolonged screech issued from the locomotive; the pistonworked up and down twenty strokes to the second. They perceived thatthe 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 theengineer could not stop it until it had gone five miles beyond thestation. But scarcely had the train passed the river, when the bridge,completely ruined, fell with a crash into the rapids of Medicine Bow.