No More Learning

"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 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 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.