บทที่ บทที่ 29 · IN WHICH CERTAIN INCIDENTS ARE NARRATED WHICH ARE ONLY TO BE MET WITH

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.