Around the World in 80 Days
'Colonel Stamp Proctor.'
The human tide now swept by, after overturning Fix,
who speedily got upon his feet again, though with tattered
clothes. Happily, he was not seriously hurt. His travelling
overcoat was divided into two unequal parts, and his
trousers resembled those of certain Indians, which fit less
compactly than they are easy to put on. Aouda had
escaped unharmed, and Fix alone bore marks of the fray in
his black and blue bruise.
'Thanks,' said Mr. Fogg to the detective, as soon as
they were out of the crowd.
'No thanks are necessary,' replied. Fix; 'but let us go.'
'Where?'
'To a tailor's.'
Such a visit was, indeed, opportune. The clothing of
both Mr. Fogg and Fix was in rags, as if they had
themselves been actively engaged in the contest between
Camerfield and Mandiboy. An hour after, they were once
more suitably attired, and with Aouda returned to the
International Hotel.
Passepartout was waiting for his master, armed with half
a dozen six-barrelled revolvers. When he perceived Fix,
he knit his brows; but Aouda having, in a few words, told
him of their adventure, his countenance resumed its placid
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expression. Fix evidently was no longer an enemy, but an
ally; he was faithfully keeping his word.
Dinner over, the coach which was to convey the
passengers and their luggage to the station drew up to the
door. As he was getting in, Mr. Fogg said to Fix, 'You
have not seen this Colonel Proctor again?'
'No.'
'I will come back to America to find him,' said Phileas
Fogg calmly. 'It would not be right for an Englishman to
permit himself to be treated in that way, without
retaliating.'
The detective smiled, but did not reply. It was clear
that Mr. Fogg was one of those Englishmen who, while
they do not tolerate duelling at home, fight abroad when
their honour is attacked.
At a quarter before six the travellers reached the station,
and found the train ready to depart. As he was about to
enter it, Mr. Fogg called a porter, and said to him: 'My
friend, was there not some trouble to-day in San
Francisco?'
'It was a political meeting, sir,' replied the porter.
'But I thought there was a great deal of disturbance in
the streets.'
'It was only a meeting assembled for an election.'
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'The election of a general-in-chief, no doubt?' asked
Mr. Fogg.
'No, sir; of a justice of the peace.'
Phileas Fogg got into the train, which started off at full
speed.
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Chapter XXVI
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG
AND PARTY TRAVEL BY THE
PACIFIC RAILROAD
'From ocean to ocean'—so say the Americans; and
these four words compose the general designation of the
'great trunk line' which crosses the entire width of the
United States. The Pacific Railroad is, however, really
divided into two distinct lines: the Central Pacific,
between San Francisco and Ogden, and the Union Pacific,
between Ogden and Omaha. Five main lines connect
Omaha with New York.
New York and San Francisco are thus united by an
uninterrupted metal ribbon, which measures no less than
three thousand seven hundred and eighty-six miles.
Between Omaha and the Pacific the railway crosses a
territory which is still infested by Indians and wild beasts,
and a large tract which the Mormons, after they were
driven from Illinois in 1845, began to colonise.
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The journey from New York to San Francisco
consumed, formerly, under the most favourable
conditions, at least six months. It is now accomplished in
seven days.
It was in 1862 that, in spite of the Southern Members
of Congress, who wished a more southerly route, it was
decided to lay the road between the forty-first and forty-
second parallels. President Lincoln himself fixed the end of
the line at Omaha, in Nebraska. The work was at once
commenced, and pursued with true American energy; nor
did the rapidity with which it went on injuriously affect its
good execution. The road grew, on the prairies, a mile
and a half a day. A locomotive, running on the rails laid
down the evening before, brought the rails to be laid on
the morrow, and advanced upon them as fast as they were
put in position.
The Pacific Railroad is joined by several branches in
Iowa, Kansas, Colorado, and Oregon. On leaving Omaha,
it passes along the left bank of the Platte River as far as the
junction of its northern branch, follows its southern
branch, crosses the Laramie territory and the Wahsatch
Mountains, turns the Great Salt Lake, and reaches Salt
Lake City, the Mormon capital, plunges into the Tuilla
Valley, across the American Desert, Cedar and Humboldt
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Mountains, the Sierra Nevada, and descends, via
Sacramento, to the Pacific—its grade, even on the Rocky
Mountains, never exceeding one hundred and twelve feet
to the mile.
Such was the road to be traversed in seven days, which
would enable Phileas Fogg—at least, so he hoped—to take
the Atlantic steamer at New York on the 11th for
Liverpool.
The car which he occupied was a sort of long omnibus
on eight wheels, and with no compartments in the
interior. It was supplied with two rows of seats,
perpendicular to the direction of the train on either side of
an aisle which conducted to the front and rear platforms.
These platforms were found throughout the train, and the
passengers were able to pass from one end of the train to
the other. It was supplied with saloon cars, balcony cars,
restaurants, and smoking-cars; theatre cars alone were
wanting, and they will have these some day.
Book and news dealers, sellers of edibles, drinkables,
and cigars, who seemed to have plenty of customers, were
continually circulating in the aisles.
The train left Oakland station at six o'clock. It was
already night, cold and cheerless, the heavens being
overcast with clouds which seemed to threaten snow. The
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train did not proceed rapidly; counting the stoppages, it
did not run more than twenty miles an hour, which was a
sufficient speed, however, to enable it to reach Omaha
within its designated time.
There was but little conversation in the car, and soon
many of the passengers were overcome with sleep.
Passepartout found himself beside the detective; but he did
not talk to him. After recent events, their relations with
each other had grown somewhat cold; there could no
longer be mutual sympathy or intimacy between them.
Fix's manner had not changed; but Passepartout was very
reserved, and ready to strangle his former friend on the
slightest provocation.
Snow began to fall an hour after they started, a fine
snow, however, which happily could not obstruct the
train; nothing could be seen from the windows but a vast,
white sheet, against which the smoke of the locomotive
had a greyish aspect.
At eight o'clock a steward entered the car and
announced that the time for going to bed had arrived; and
in a few minutes the car was transformed into a dormitory.
The backs of the seats were thrown back, bedsteads
carefully packed were rolled out by an ingenious system,
berths were suddenly improvised, and each traveller had
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soon at his disposition a comfortable bed, protected from
curious eyes by thick curtains. The sheets were clean and
the pillows soft. It only remained to go to bed and sleep
which everybody did— while the train sped on across the
State of California.
The country between San Francisco and Sacramento is
not very hilly. The Central Pacific, taking Sacramento for
its starting-point, extends eastward to meet the road from
Omaha. The line from San Francisco to Sacramento runs
in a north-easterly direction, along the American River,
which empties into San Pablo Bay. The one hundred and
twenty miles between these cities were accomplished in
six hours, and towards midnight, while fast asleep, the
travellers passed through Sacramento; so that they saw
nothing of that important place, the seat of the State
government, with its fine quays, its broad streets, its noble
hotels, squares, and churches.
The train, on leaving Sacramento, and passing the
junction, Roclin, Auburn, and Colfax, entered the range
of the Sierra Nevada. '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
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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
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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
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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.
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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.
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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
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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,
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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
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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
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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.
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'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
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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
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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
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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.
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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!'
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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.
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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.
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'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.
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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.'
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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.'
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'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
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Around the World in 80 Days
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.
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