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CHAPTER 28
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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