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Around the World in Eighty Days
Chapter 28. IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT DOES NOT SUCCEED IN MAKING ANYBODY LISTEN TO REASON
The train, leaving Great Salt Lake at Ogden, went north an hour to Weber River, covering nine hundred miles from San Francisco.
From this point it took an easterly direction towards the jagged Wahsatch Mountains.
Between this range and the Rocky Mountains American engineers had the greatest difficulties in laying the road.
The government therefore granted a subsidy of forty-eight thousand dollars per mile, instead of the 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 to Bitter Creek Valley, then rising to the ridge dividing Atlantic and 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.
Fix longed to get out of this difficult region.
He was more anxious than Phileas Fogg himself to be beyond the danger of delays and accidents and to set foot on English soil.
At ten o'clock the train stopped at Fort Bridger, twenty minutes later it entered Wyoming Territory, following the Bitter Creek valley.
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 didn't interrupt their progress.
The bad weather annoyed Passepartout, for the snow piled on the wheels of the cars and would have ruined 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 watched the sky and felt the fall in temperature, Aouda had fears for a totally different reason.
Several passengers had got off at Green River, and were walking up and down the platforms.
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 perhaps did not understand the depth of the feeling her protector gave her.
She called it gratitude, but though she did not know it, 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.
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 shouldn't 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's."
"Mr. Fix," resumed Aouda, "Mr. Fogg will allow no one to take revenge on him."
"He said he'd come back to America to find this man, if he saw Colonel Proctor, a fight could happen, so he mustn't see him".
"You're 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 doesn't leave this car during those four days, we may hope that chance won't 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'd 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're 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're sold on all the American trains. And as for partners, if madam plays, "
"Certainly, sir," Aouda quickly replied, "I understand whist. It's 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.
It stood 7,524 feet above sea level, one of the highest points reached by the track crossing the Rocky Mountains.
After going about two hundred miles, the travellers found themselves on vast plains that extend to the Atlantic.
Nature had made these plains very suitable 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 north and east horizon was closed by a huge semi-circle of the southern Rocky Mountains, the highest Laramie Peak.
Between this and the railway extended vast plains, plentifully irrigated.
On the right rose lower arms of mountain mass stretching south to Arkansas River sources, a main river of the Missouri.
At half-past twelve the travellers saw Fort Halleck, which controls that section, a few hours later 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 breakfast in the car, Mr. Fogg and his partners resumed whist when a loud whistle sounded 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 Mr. Fogg might go out, but he only said to his servant, "See what's 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 wouldn't 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 didn't in any way exaggerate the condition of the bridge.
It may be taken for granted that, rash as the Americans usually are, when they're prudent there's 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 aren't 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 isn't likely that it'll reach Medicine Bow in less than six hours."
"Six hours!" cried Passepartout.
"Certainly," returned the conductor, "besides, it'll take us as long as that to reach Medicine Bow on foot."
"But it's 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's a rapid,"
"And we shall have to make a circuit of ten miles to the north to find a ford."
The colonel cursed the railway company and the conductor, and Passepartout, furious, was ready to join him.
Here was an obstacle, indeed, which all his master's banknotes couldn't remove.
Passengers were disappointed, facing the delay, they had to walk fifteen miles across a snow covered plain.
They grumbled and protested, and would certainly have thus attracted Phileas Fogg's attention if he hadn't been completely absorbed in his game.
Passepartout found that he couldn't avoid telling his master what had occurred.
With hanging head he was turning towards the car when the engineer, a true Yankee named Forster, called out,
"Gentlemen, perhaps there's 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.
Many passengers accepted the engineer's plan. Colonel Proctor was especially happy and called it possible.
He told stories of engineers rushing trains over river gaps without bridges by using full steam, and many agreed with him.
"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 doesn't 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 didn't know to whom to address himself.
"Are you afraid?" asked Colonel Proctor.
"I afraid? Very well. I'll 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, and the engineer reversed the steam, backing the train nearly a mile to take a longer leap.
Then, with another whistle, he began to move forward and the train increased its speed.
Soon its rapidity became frightful, a prolonged screech issued from the locomotive as 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 from bank to bank, and the engineer couldn't stop it until it had gone five miles past 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.