# Works of Jules Verne/Round the World in Eighty Days/Chapter 28

CHAPTER XXVIII IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT COULD NOT SUCCEED IN MAKING ANYONE LISTEN TO REASON
The train leaving Great Salt Lake and the station at Ogden, ran for an hour towards the north, as far as Weber River, having accomplished about nine hundred miles from San Francisco. Leaving this point, it resumed the easterly direction across the rocky hills of the Wahsatch Mountains. It is in this part of the territory, comprised between these mountains and the Rock Mountains properly so called, that the American engineers were confronted with the greatest difficulties. On this portion of the route the subsidy of the United States Government was raised to forty-eight thousand dollars per mile, whilst on the plains it was only sixteen thousand dollars; but the engineers, as has already been said, have not done violence to nature—they have played with her, going round the difficulties. To reach the great basin, only one tunnel, fourteen thousand feet long, was bored in the entire route of the railroad.
At Salt Lake the road had up to this time reached its greatest altitude. From this point its profile described a very long curve, descending towards Bitter Creek Valley, then re-ascending to the dividing ridge of the waters between the Atlantic and the Pacific. The creeks were numerous in this mountainous region. It was necessary to cross the Muddy, the Green, and others, on culverts. ​Passepartout became more impatient in proportion as he approached the end of his journey. Fix in his turn would have been very glad to get out of this rough country. He feared delays, he dreaded accidents, and was more in a hurry than Phileas Fogg himself to set foot upon English soil!
At ten o'clock at night the train stopped at Fort Bridger station, which it left almost immediately, and twenty miles further on it entered Wyoming Territory—following the entire valley of the Bitter Creek, whence flow a portion of the streams forming the water system of Colorado.
The next day, the 7th of December, there was a stop of a quarter hour at Green River station. The snow had fallen quite heavily through the night, but mingled with rain and half melted it could not interfere with the progress of the train. But this bad weather kept Passepartout in constant uneasiness, for the accumulation of the snow clogging the car wheels would certainly endanger the journey.
"What an idea," he said to himself, "for my master to travel during the winter! Could he not wait for the fine season of the year to increase his chances?"
But at this moment, while the good fellow was busy only with the condition of the sky and the lowering of the temperature, Aouda was experiencing more serious fears, which proceeded from quite another cause.
Some of the passengers had got out of the cars, and were walking on the platform of the Green River Station, waiting for the train to leave. The young woman, looking through the window pane, recognized among them Colonel Stamp Proctor, the American who had behaved so rudely to Phileas Fogg at the time of the political meeting in San Francisco. Aouda, not wishing to be seen, drew back from the window.
This circumstance made a lively impression upon the young woman. She was attached to the man who, however coldly, gave her every day tokens of the most absolute devotion. She doubtless did not comprehend the entire depth of the sentiment which her deliverer inspired in her, and to this sentiment she gave as yet only the name of gratitude; but unknown to herself, it was more than that. Her heart was therefore wrung at the sight of the rough fellow of whom Mr. Fogg would, sooner or later, demand ​satisfaction. Evidently, it was chance alone that had brought Colonel Proctor into this train; but he was there, and Phileas Fogg must be prevented at any cost from seeing his adversary.
When the train had started again, Aouda took advantage of a moment, when Mr. Fogg was sleeping, to post Fix and Passepartout as to the situation.
"That Proctor is on the train!" cried Fix. "Well, compose yourself, madame; before dealing with the gentleman with Mr. Fogg—he will have to deal with me! It seems to me that in all this business I have received the greatest insults!"
"And moreover," added Passepartout, "I will take care of him, Colonel as he is."
"Mr. Fix," continued Aouda, "Mr. Fogg will allow no one to avenge him. He has said that he will return to America to find this ruffian. If, then, he sees Colonel Proctor, we cannot prevent an encounter, which may lead to deplorable results. He must therefore not see him."
"You are right, madame," replied Fix; "an encounter might ruin everything. Conqueror or conquered, Mr. Fogg would be delayed, and———"
"And," added Passepartout, "that would win the bet of the gentlemen of the Reform Club. In four days we shall be in New York! Well, then, if my master does not leave his car for four days, we may hope that chance will not put him face to face with this cursed American, confound him! Now, we can easily prevent him———"
The conversation was interrupted. Mr. Fogg had waked up, and was looking at the country through the window pane obscured by the snow. But later, and without being heard by his master or Aouda, Passepartout said to the detective: "Would you truly fight for him?"
"I would do anything to take him back to Europe alive!" simply replied Fix, in a tone which indicated an unbroken will.
Passepartout felt a shudder over him, but his convictions as to the honesty of his master were not weakened.
And now, were there any means by which Mr. Fogg could be detained in this car, so as to prevent any encounter between him and the colonel? That could not be difficult, as the gentleman was naturally not excitable or inquisitive. ​At all events, the detective thought he had found this means, for a few moments later he said to Phileas Fogg:
"These are long and slow hours that we pass thus on the railway."
"Indeed they are," replied the gentleman, "but they pass."
"On board the steamers," continued the detective, "you used to take a turn at whist?"
"Yes," replied Phileas Fogg, "but here it would be difficult. I have neither cards nor partners."
"Oh! as for the cards, we will find it easy to buy them. They are sold on all trains in America. As for partners, if, perchance, madame———"
"Certainly, sir," replied the young woman quickly, "I understand whist. That is part of the English education."
"And I," continued Fix, "have some pretensions to playing a good game. Now, with us three and a dummy———"
"As you please, sir," replied Phileas Fogg, delighted at resuming his favorite game, even on the railroad.
Passepartout was dispatched in search of the steward, and he soon returned with two complete decks of cards, counters, and a shelf covered with cloth. Nothing was wanting. The game commenced. Aouda understood whist well enough, and she even was complimented sometimes by the severe Phileas Fogg. As for the detective, he was simply an adept, and worthy of holding his head up with this gentleman.
"Now," said Passepartout to himself, "we will keep him. He will not budge any more!"
At eleven o'clock in the morning, the train had reached the dividing ridge of the waters of the two oceans. It was at Bridger Pass, at a height of seven thousand five hundred and twenty-four English feet above the level of the sea, one of the highest points touched by the profile of the route in this passage across the Rocky Mountains. After going about two hundred miles, the travelers finally found themselves on the vast plains extending as far as the Atlantic, and which nature made so propitious for laying a railroad.
On the slopes of the Atlantic basin already appeared the first streams, tributaries of the North Platte river. The entire northern and eastern horizon was covered by the ​immense semi-circular curtain, which forms the southern portion of the Rocky Mountains, the hightest being Laramie's Peak. Between this curve and the line of the road extended vast and plentifully watered plains. On the right of the road rose the first spurs of the mountainous mass, rounding off to the south as far as the sources of the Arkansas river, one of the large tributaries of the Mississippi.
At half past twelve, the travelers caught sight for an instant of Fort Halleck, which commands this country. A few hours more, and the crossing of the Rocky Mountains would be accomplished. It was to be hoped, then, that no accident would mark the passage of the train through this difficult region. The snow had stopped falling. The weather became cold and dry. Large birds, frightened by the locomotive, were flying in the distance. Not a deer, a bear, or a wolf, showed itself on the plain. It was the desert in all its barrenness.
After a very comfortable breakfast, served up in the car, Mr. Fogg and his partners had just resumed their interminable whist, when sharp whistles were heard. The train stopped.
Passepartout put his head out of the door, and saw nothing which could explain this stop. No station was in sight.
Aouda and Fix feared for an instant that Mr. Fogg would think of going out on the track. But the gentleman contented himself with saying to his servant, "See then what it is."
Passepartout rushed out of the car. About forty passengers had left their seats, and among them Colonel Stamp Proctor.
The train had stopped in front of a red signal which blocked the way. The engineer and conductor, having got out, discussed quite excitedly with a signal man, whom the station master at Medicine Bow, the next station, had sent in advance of the train. Some of the passengers approached and took part in the discussion, among others the aforesaid Colonel Proctor, with his loud voice and imperious gestures.
Passepartout, having rejoined the group, heard the signal man say, "No! there is no means of passing. The bridge ​at Medicine Bow is shaky and will not bear the weight of the train."
The bridge in question was a suspension bridge over a rapids, about a mile from the place where the train had stopped. According to the signalman, it threatened to fall, several of the wires having snapped, and it was impossible to risk its passage. He did not exaggerate in any way, then, in asserting that they could not pass over the bridge. And besides, with the careless habits of the Americans, we may say that when they are prudent, we would be very foolish not to be so.
Passepartout, not daring to go to inform his master, listened with set teeth, immovable as a statue.
"Ah, indeed!" cried Colonel Proctor, "we are not going, I imagine, to remain here, and take root in the snow!"
"Colonel," replied the conductor, we have telegraphed to Omaha for a train, but it is not probable that it will arrive at Medicine Bow before six hours."
"Six hours!" cried Passepartout.
"Without doubt," replied the conductor. "Besides, that time will be necessary for us to reach the station on foot."
"But it is only a mile from here," said one of the passengers.
"A mile, in fact, but on the other side of the river."
"And cannot the river be crossed in a boat?" asked the colonel.
"Impossible. The creek is swollen with the rains. It is a torrent, and we will be compelled to make a detour of ten miles to the north to find a ford."
The colonel launched a volley of oaths, blaming the company, and the conductor. Passepartout furious, was not far from joining with him. Here was a material obstacle against which, this time, all his master's bank-notes would be of no avail.
The disappointment was general among the passengers, who, without counting the delay, saw themselves obliged to foot it fifteen miles across the plain covered with snow. There was a hubbub, exclamations, loud and deep, which would certainly have attracted Phileas Fogg's attention, if that gentleman had not been absorbed in his game.
But Passepartout found himself compelled to inform ​him, and with drooping head, he turned towards the car, when the engineer of the train, a genuine Yankee, named Forster, raising his voice, said, "Gentlemen, there might be a way of passing."
"On the bridge?" asked a passenger.
"On the bridge."
"With our train?" asked the colonel.
"With our train."
Passepartout stopped, and devoured the engineer's words.
"But the bridge threatens to fall!" continued the conductor.
"It doesn't matter," replied Forster. "I believe that by rushing the train over at its maximum speed we would have some chances of passing."
"The devil!" exclaimed Passepartout.
But a certain number of the passengers were immediately carried away by the proposition. It pleased Colonel Proctor particularly. That hot-head found the thing very feasible. He recalled, even, that engineers had had the idea of passing rivers without bridges, with trains closely coupled, rushing at the height of their speed, etc. And, finally, all those interested took sides with the engineer's views.
"We have fifty chances for passing," said one.
"Sixty," said another.
"Eighty! Ninety out of one hundred!"
Passepartout was perplexed, although he was willing to try anything to accomplish the passage of Medicine creek, but the attempt seemed to him a little too "American."
"Besides," he thought, "there is a much simpler thing to do, and these people don't even think of it." Monsieur," he said to one of the passengers, "the way proposed by the engineer seems a little hazardous to me, but———"
"Eighty chances!" replied the passenger, turning his back to him.
"I know very well," replied Passepartout, addressing another gentleman, "but a simple reflection———"
"No reflection, it is useless!" replied the American addressed, shrugging his shoulders, "since the engineer assures us that we will pass!"
"Without doubt," continued Passepartout, "we will pass, but it would perhaps be more prudent———"
​"What prudent!" cried Colonel Proctor, jumping at this word, heard by chance. "At full speed, you have been told! Don't you understand? At full speed!"
"I know—I understand," repeated Passepartout, whom no one would allow to finish his phrase; "but it would be, if not more prudent, since the word offends you, at least more natural———"
"Who? What? How? What is the matter with this fellow?" was heard from all directions.
The poor fellow did not know whom to address.
"Are you afraid?" Colonel Proctor asked him.
"I, afraid?" cried Passepartout. "Well, so be it! I will show these people that a Frenchman can be as American as they!"
"All aboard! All aboard!" cried the conductor.
"Yes, all aboard," repeated Passepartout; "all aboard! and right away! But they can't prevent me from thinking that it would have been more natural for us to have gone over the bridge afoot, and then brought the train afterwards!"
But no one heard this sage reflection, and no one would have acknowledged its justness.
The passengers took their seats again in the cars. Passepartout resumed his, without saying anything of what had occurred. The players were entirely absorbed in their game.
The locomotive whistled vigorously. The engineer reversed his engine, and backed for about a mile—returned like a jumper who is going to take a leap. Then, at a second whistle, they commenced to move forwards, the speed increased; it soon became frightful; but a single puffing was heard from the locomotive; the pistons worked twenty strokes to the second; the axles smoked in the journals. They felt, so to speak, that the entire train, moving at the rate of one hundred miles to the hour, did not bear upon the rails. The speed destroyed the weight.
And they passed! And it was like a flash of lightning. They saw nothing of the bridge. The train leaped, it might be said, from one bank to the other, and the engineer could not stop his train for five miles beyond the station.
But the train had scarcely crossed the river than the bridge, already about to fall, went down with a crash into the rapids of Medicine Bow.
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