No More Learning

'Cisco was
reached at seven in the morning; and an hour later the dormitory was
transformed into an ordinary car, and the travellers could observe the
picturesque beauties of the mountain region through which they were
steaming. The railway track wound in and out among the passes, now
approaching the mountain-sides, now suspended over precipices, avoiding
abrupt angles by bold curves, plunging into narrow defiles, which
seemed to have no outlet. The locomotive, its great funnel emitting a
weird light, with its sharp bell, and its cow-catcher extended like a
spur, mingled its shrieks and bellowings with the noise of torrents and
cascades, and twined its smoke among the branches of the gigantic pines.

There were few or no bridges or tunnels on the route. The railway
turned around the sides of the mountains, and did not attempt to
violate nature by taking the shortest cut from one point to another.

The train entered the State of Nevada through the Carson Valley about
nine o'clock, going always northeasterly; and at midday reached Reno,
where there was a delay of twenty minutes for breakfast.

From this point the road, running along Humboldt River, passed
northward for several miles by its banks; then it turned eastward, and
kept by the river until it reached the Humboldt Range, nearly at the
extreme eastern limit of Nevada.

Having breakfasted, Mr. Fogg and his companions resumed their places in
the car, and observed the varied landscape which unfolded itself as
they passed along the vast prairies, the mountains lining the horizon,
and the creeks, with their frothy, foaming streams. Sometimes a great
herd of buffaloes, massing together in the distance, seemed like a
moveable dam. These innumerable multitudes of ruminating beasts often
form an insurmountable obstacle to the passage of the trains; thousands
of them have been seen passing over the track for hours together, in
compact ranks. The locomotive is then forced to stop and wait till the
road is once more clear.

This happened, indeed, to the train in which Mr. Fogg was travelling.
About twelve o'clock a troop of ten or twelve thousand head of buffalo
encumbered the track. The locomotive, slackening its speed, tried to
clear the way with its cow-catcher; but the mass of animals was too
great. The buffaloes marched along with a tranquil gait, uttering now
and then deafening bellowings. There was no use of interrupting them,
for, having taken a particular direction, nothing can moderate and
change their course; it is a torrent of living flesh which no dam could
contain.

The travellers gazed on this curious spectacle from the platforms; but
Phileas Fogg, who had the most reason of all to be in a hurry, remained
in his seat, and waited philosophically until it should please the
buffaloes to get out of the way.

Passepartout was furious at the delay they occasioned, and longed to
discharge his arsenal of revolvers upon them.

"What a country! " cried he. "Mere cattle stop the trains, and go by in
a procession, just as if they were not impeding travel! Parbleu! I
should like to know if Mr. Fogg foresaw this mishap in his programme!
And here's an engineer who doesn't dare to run the locomotive into this
herd of beasts! "

The engineer did not try to overcome the obstacle, and he was wise. He
would have crushed the first buffaloes, no doubt, with the cow-catcher;
but the locomotive, however powerful, would soon have been checked, the
train would inevitably have been thrown off the track, and would then
have been helpless.

The best course was to wait patiently, and regain the lost time by
greater speed when the obstacle was removed. The procession of
buffaloes lasted three full hours, and it was night before the track
was clear. The last ranks of the herd were now passing over the rails,
while the first had already disappeared below the southern horizon.

It was eight o'clock when the train passed through the defiles of the
Humboldt Range, and half-past nine when it penetrated Utah, the region
of the Great Salt Lake, the singular colony of the Mormons.




Chapter XXVII

IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT UNDERGOES, AT A SPEED OF TWENTY MILES AN HOUR, A
COURSE OF MORMON HISTORY


During the night of the 5th of December, the train ran south-easterly
for about fifty miles; then rose an equal distance in a north-easterly
direction, towards the Great Salt Lake.

Passepartout, about nine o'clock, went out upon the platform to take
the air. The weather was cold, the heavens grey, but it was not
snowing. The sun's disc, enlarged by the mist, seemed an enormous ring
of gold, and Passepartout was amusing himself by calculating its value
in pounds sterling, when he was diverted from this interesting study by
a strange-looking personage who made his appearance on the platform.

This personage, who had taken the train at Elko, was tall and dark,
with black moustache, black stockings, a black silk hat, a black
waistcoat, black trousers, a white cravat, and dogskin gloves. He
might have been taken for a clergyman. He went from one end of the
train to the other, and affixed to the door of each car a notice
written in manuscript.

Passepartout approached and read one of these notices, which stated
that Elder William Hitch, Mormon missionary, taking advantage of his
presence on train No. 48, would deliver a lecture on Mormonism in car
No. 117, from eleven to twelve o'clock; and that he invited all who
were desirous of being instructed concerning the mysteries of the
religion of the "Latter Day Saints" to attend.

"I'll go," said Passepartout to himself. He knew nothing of Mormonism
except the custom of polygamy, which is its foundation.

The news quickly spread through the train, which contained about one
hundred passengers, thirty of whom, at most, attracted by the notice,
ensconced themselves in car No. 117. Passepartout took one of the
front seats. Neither Mr. Fogg nor Fix cared to attend.

At the appointed hour Elder William Hitch rose, and, in an irritated
voice, as if he had already been contradicted, said, "I tell you that
Joe Smith is a martyr, that his brother Hiram is a martyr, and that the
persecutions of the United States Government against the prophets will
also make a martyr of Brigham Young. Who dares to say the contrary? "

No one ventured to gainsay the missionary, whose excited tone
contrasted curiously with his naturally calm visage. No doubt his
anger arose from the hardships to which the Mormons were actually
subjected. The government had just succeeded, with some difficulty, in
reducing these independent fanatics to its rule. It had made itself
master of Utah, and subjected that territory to the laws of the Union,
after imprisoning Brigham Young on a charge of rebellion and polygamy.
The disciples of the prophet had since redoubled their efforts, and
resisted, by words at least, the authority of Congress. Elder Hitch,
as is seen, was trying to make proselytes on the very railway trains.

Then, emphasising his words with his loud voice and frequent gestures,
he related the history of the Mormons from Biblical times: how that, in
Israel, a Mormon prophet of the tribe of Joseph published the annals of
the new religion, and bequeathed them to his son Mormon; how, many
centuries later, a translation of this precious book, which was written
in Egyptian, was made by Joseph Smith, junior, a Vermont farmer, who
revealed himself as a mystical prophet in 1825; and how, in short, the
celestial messenger appeared to him in an illuminated forest, and gave
him the annals of the Lord.

Several of the audience, not being much interested in the missionary's
narrative, here left the car; but Elder Hitch, continuing his lecture,
related how Smith, junior, with his father, two brothers, and a few
disciples, founded the church of the "Latter Day Saints," which,
adopted not only in America, but in England, Norway and Sweden, and
Germany, counts many artisans, as well as men engaged in the liberal
professions, among its members; how a colony was established in Ohio, a
temple erected there at a cost of two hundred thousand dollars, and a
town built at Kirkland; how Smith became an enterprising banker, and
received from a simple mummy showman a papyrus scroll written by
Abraham and several famous Egyptians.

The Elder's story became somewhat wearisome, and his audience grew
gradually less, until it was reduced to twenty passengers. But this
did not disconcert the enthusiast, who proceeded with the story of
Joseph Smith's bankruptcy in 1837, and how his ruined creditors gave
him a coat of tar and feathers; his reappearance some years afterwards,
more honourable and honoured than ever, at Independence, Missouri, the
chief of a flourishing colony of three thousand disciples, and his
pursuit thence by outraged Gentiles, and retirement into the Far West.

Ten hearers only were now left, among them honest Passepartout, who was
listening with all his ears. Thus he learned that, after long
persecutions, Smith reappeared in Illinois, and in 1839 founded a
community at Nauvoo, on the Mississippi, numbering twenty-five thousand
souls, of which he became mayor, chief justice, and general-in-chief;
that he announced himself, in 1843, as a candidate for the Presidency
of the United States; and that finally, being drawn into ambuscade at
Carthage, he was thrown into prison, and assassinated by a band of men
disguised in masks.

Passepartout was now the only person left in the car, and the Elder,
looking him full in the face, reminded him that, two years after the
assassination of Joseph Smith, the inspired prophet, Brigham Young, his
successor, left Nauvoo for the banks of the Great Salt Lake, where, in
the midst of that fertile region, directly on the route of the
emigrants who crossed Utah on their way to California, the new colony,
thanks to the polygamy practised by the Mormons, had flourished beyond
expectations.

"And this," added Elder William Hitch, "this is why the jealousy of
Congress has been aroused against us! Why have the soldiers of the
Union invaded the soil of Utah? Why has Brigham Young, our chief, been
imprisoned, in contempt of all justice? Shall we yield to force?
Never! Driven from Vermont, driven from Illinois, driven from Ohio,
driven from Missouri, driven from Utah, we shall yet find some
independent territory on which to plant our tents. And you, my
brother," continued the Elder, fixing his angry eyes upon his single
auditor, "will you not plant yours there, too, under the shadow of our
flag? "

"No! " replied Passepartout courageously, in his turn retiring from the
car, and leaving the Elder to preach to vacancy.

During the lecture the train had been making good progress, and towards
half-past twelve it reached the northwest border of the Great Salt
Lake. Thence the passengers could observe the vast extent of this
interior sea, which is also called the Dead Sea, and into which flows
an American Jordan. It is a picturesque expanse, framed in lofty crags
in large strata, encrusted with white salt--a superb sheet of water,
which was formerly of larger extent than now, its shores having
encroached with the lapse of time, and thus at once reduced its breadth
and increased its depth.

The Salt Lake, seventy miles long and thirty-five wide, is situated
three miles eight hundred feet above the sea. Quite different from
Lake Asphaltite, whose depression is twelve hundred feet below the sea,
it contains considerable salt, and one quarter of the weight of its
water is solid matter, its specific weight being 1,170, and, after
being distilled, 1,000. Fishes are, of course, unable to live in it,
and those which descend through the Jordan, the Weber, and other
streams soon perish.

The country around the lake was well cultivated, for the Mormons are
mostly farmers; while ranches and pens for domesticated animals, fields
of wheat, corn, and other cereals, luxuriant prairies, hedges of wild
rose, clumps of acacias and milk-wort, would have been seen six months
later. Now the ground was covered with a thin powdering of snow.

The train reached Ogden at two o'clock, where it rested for six hours,
Mr. Fogg and his party had time to pay a visit to Salt Lake City,
connected with Ogden by a branch road; and they spent two hours in this
strikingly American town, built on the pattern of other cities of the
Union, like a checker-board, "with the sombre sadness of right-angles,"
as Victor Hugo expresses it. The founder of the City of the Saints
could not escape from the taste for symmetry which distinguishes the
Anglo-Saxons. In this strange country, where the people are certainly
not up to the level of their institutions, everything is done
"squarely"--cities, houses, and follies.

The travellers, then, were promenading, at three o'clock, about the
streets of the town built between the banks of the Jordan and the spurs
of the Wahsatch Range. They saw few or no churches, but the prophet's
mansion, the court-house, and the arsenal, blue-brick houses with
verandas and porches, surrounded by gardens bordered with acacias,
palms, and locusts. A clay and pebble wall, built in 1853, surrounded
the town; and in the principal street were the market and several
hotels adorned with pavilions. The place did not seem thickly
populated. The streets were almost deserted, except in the vicinity of
the temple, which they only reached after having traversed several
quarters surrounded by palisades. There were many women, which was
easily accounted for by the "peculiar institution" of the Mormons; but
it must not be supposed that all the Mormons are polygamists. They are
free to marry or not, as they please; but it is worth noting that it is
mainly the female citizens of Utah who are anxious to marry, as,
according to the Mormon religion, maiden ladies are not admitted to the
possession of its highest joys. These poor creatures seemed to be
neither well off nor happy. Some--the more well-to-do, no doubt--wore
short, open, black silk dresses, under a hood or modest shawl; others
were habited in Indian fashion.

Passepartout could not behold without a certain fright these women,
charged, in groups, with conferring happiness on a single Mormon. His
common sense pitied, above all, the husband. It seemed to him a
terrible thing to have to guide so many wives at once across the
vicissitudes of life, and to conduct them, as it were, in a body to the
Mormon paradise with the prospect of seeing them in the company of the
glorious Smith, who doubtless was the chief ornament of that delightful
place, to all eternity. He felt decidedly repelled from such a
vocation, and he imagined--perhaps he was mistaken--that the fair ones
of Salt Lake City cast rather alarming glances on his person. Happily,
his stay there was but brief. At four the party found themselves again
at the station, took their places in the train, and the whistle sounded
for starting. Just at the moment, however, that the locomotive wheels
began to move, cries of "Stop! stop! " were heard.

Trains, like time and tide, stop for no one. The gentleman who uttered
the cries was evidently a belated Mormon. He was breathless with
running. Happily for him, the station had neither gates nor barriers.
He rushed along the track, jumped on the rear platform of the train,
and fell, exhausted, into one of the seats.

Passepartout, who had been anxiously watching this amateur gymnast,
approached him with lively interest, and learned that he had taken
flight after an unpleasant domestic scene.

When the Mormon had recovered his breath, Passepartout ventured to ask
him politely how many wives he had; for, from the manner in which he
had decamped, it might be thought that he had twenty at least.

"One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms heavenward--"one, and
that was enough! "




Chapter XXVIII

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 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.