Around the World in Eighty Days
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.
CHAPTER XXX.
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SIMPLY DOES HIS DUTY
Three passengers including Passepartout had disappeared. Had they been
killed in the struggle? Were they taken prisoners by the Sioux? It was
impossible to tell.
There were many wounded, but none mortally. Colonel Proctor was one of
the most seriously hurt; he had fought bravely, and a ball had entered
his groin. He was carried into the station with the other wounded
passengers, to receive such attention as could be of avail.
Aouda was safe; and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the thickest of the
fight, had not received a scratch. Fix was slightly wounded in the arm.
But Passepartout was not to be found, and tears coursed down Aouda’s
cheeks.
All the passengers had got out of the train, the wheels of which were
stained with blood. From the tyres and spokes hung ragged pieces of
flesh. As far as the eye could reach on the white plain behind, red
trails were visible. The last Sioux were disappearing in the south,
along the banks of Republican River.
Mr. Fogg, with folded arms, remained motionless. He had a serious
decision to make. Aouda, standing near him, looked at him without
speaking, and he understood her look. If his servant was a prisoner,
ought he not to risk everything to rescue him from the Indians? “I will
find him, living or dead,” said he quietly to Aouda.
“Ah, Mr.—Mr. Fogg!” cried she, clasping his hands and covering them
with tears.
“Living,” added Mr. Fogg, “if we do not lose a moment.”
Phileas Fogg, by this resolution, inevitably sacrificed himself; he
pronounced his own doom. The delay of a single day would make him lose
the steamer at New York, and his bet would be certainly lost. But as he
thought, “It is my duty,” he did not hesitate.
The commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there. A hundred of his
soldiers had placed themselves in a position to defend the station,
should the Sioux attack it.
“Sir,” said Mr. Fogg to the captain, “three passengers have
disappeared.”
“Dead?” asked the captain.
“Dead or prisoners; that is the uncertainty which must be solved. Do
you propose to pursue the Sioux?”
“That’s a serious thing to do, sir,” returned the captain. “These
Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot leave the fort
unprotected.”
“The lives of three men are in question, sir,” said Phileas Fogg.
“Doubtless; but can I risk the lives of fifty men to save three?”
“I don’t know whether you can, sir; but you ought to do so.”
“Nobody here,” returned the other, “has a right to teach me my duty.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Fogg, coldly. “I will go alone.”
“You, sir!” cried Fix, coming up; “you go alone in pursuit of the
Indians?”
“Would you have me leave this poor fellow to perish—him to whom every
one present owes his life? I shall go.”
“No, sir, you shall not go alone,” cried the captain, touched in spite
of himself. “No! you are a brave man. Thirty volunteers!” he added,
turning to the soldiers.
The whole company started forward at once. The captain had only to pick
his men. Thirty were chosen, and an old sergeant placed at their head.
“Thanks, captain,” said Mr. Fogg.
“Will you let me go with you?” asked Fix.
“Do as you please, sir. But if you wish to do me a favour, you will
remain with Aouda. In case anything should happen to me—”
A sudden pallor overspread the detective’s face. Separate himself from
the man whom he had so persistently followed step by step! Leave him to
wander about in this desert! Fix gazed attentively at Mr. Fogg, and,
despite his suspicions and of the struggle which was going on within
him, he lowered his eyes before that calm and frank look.
“I will stay,” said he.
A few moments after, Mr. Fogg pressed the young woman’s hand, and,
having confided to her his precious carpet-bag, went off with the
sergeant and his little squad. But, before going, he had said to the
soldiers, “My friends, I will divide five thousand dollars among you,
if we save the prisoners.”
It was then a little past noon.
Aouda retired to a waiting-room, and there she waited alone, thinking
of the simple and noble generosity, the tranquil courage of Phileas
Fogg. He had sacrificed his fortune, and was now risking his life, all
without hesitation, from duty, in silence.
Fix did not have the same thoughts, and could scarcely conceal his
agitation. He walked feverishly up and down the platform, but soon
resumed his outward composure. He now saw the folly of which he had
been guilty in letting Fogg go alone. What! This man, whom he had just
followed around the world, was permitted now to separate himself from
him! He began to accuse and abuse himself, and, as if he were director
of police, administered to himself a sound lecture for his greenness.
“I have been an idiot!” he thought, “and this man will see it. He has
gone, and won’t come back! But how is it that I, Fix, who have in my
pocket a warrant for his arrest, have been so fascinated by him?
Decidedly, I am nothing but an ass!”
So reasoned the detective, while the hours crept by all too slowly. He
did not know what to do. Sometimes he was tempted to tell Aouda all;
but he could not doubt how the young woman would receive his
confidences. What course should he take? He thought of pursuing Fogg
across the vast white plains; it did not seem impossible that he might
overtake him. Footsteps were easily printed on the snow! But soon,