The train continued east that evening without any trouble. It passed Fort Saunders, crossed Cheyenne Pass, and reached Evans Pass, the highest point of the entire journey—8,092 feet above sea level.
From there, the travelers would gradually descend toward the vast plains stretching all the way to the Atlantic. A branch line led south to Denver, the capital of Colorado, a region already famous for its gold and silver mines. More than fifty thousand people had settled there.
They had now traveled 1,382 miles from San Francisco in three days and three nights. If everything went according to schedule, another four days and nights should bring them to New York.
Phileas Fogg was still on time.
During the night, the train passed Camp Walbach. Lodge Pole Creek ran alongside the tracks and marked the boundary between Wyoming and Colorado.
At eleven o’clock, they entered Nebraska. They passed near Sedgwick and then reached Julesburg, on the southern branch of the Platte River.
Julesburg had a special place in the history of the Union Pacific Railroad. On October 23, 1867, the railroad had officially been inaugurated there by its chief engineer, General Dodge.
Two powerful locomotives had arrived with nine cars full of invited guests, including Thomas C. Durant, the railroad’s vice-president.
There had been cheers, fireworks, and a mock battle performed by Sioux and Pawnee Indians. A printing press had even been brought onto the train so that the first issue of the Railway Pioneer could be printed on the spot.
It had been a grand celebration of the railroad—a huge symbol of progress that crossed the wilderness and connected places that, at the time, barely existed.
Now the same railroad carried Phileas Fogg and his companions steadily toward the Atlantic.
At eight the next morning, they passed Fort McPherson. They still had 357 miles to go before reaching Omaha.
The tracks followed the winding southern branch of the Platte River, staying close to its left bank.
At nine o’clock, the train stopped at North Platte, an important town built between two branches of the river. The two branches joined again near the town and continued as one large river toward the Missouri, not far above Omaha.
The train also crossed the 101st meridian.
Meanwhile, Mr. Fogg and his companions had gone back to their game of whist.
No one complained about the long journey—not even the dummy player standing in for a missing hand.
Fix had won several guineas earlier, and it now looked as though he might lose them again. But he played whist with just as much enthusiasm as Mr. Fogg.
That morning, luck was strongly on Fogg’s side.
He kept receiving good cards, including trumps and honours.
At one point, Fogg was about to make a bold move and play a spade.
Then a voice behind him said:
“I would play a diamond.”
Fogg, Aouda, and Fix all looked up.
Colonel Proctor was standing behind them.
Fogg and Stamp Proctor recognized each other immediately.
“Ah! So it’s you, Englishman!” the colonel exclaimed. “You’re going to play a spade?”
“And I am going to play it,” Fogg replied calmly.
He placed the ten of spades on the table.
“Well, I would have played a diamond,” Proctor said rudely.
He reached toward the card Fogg had just played.
“You clearly know nothing about whist.”
“Perhaps I know as much about it as anyone else,” Fogg replied, rising.
“Then prove it, son of John Bull.”
Aouda suddenly went pale.
She grabbed Fogg’s arm and tried to pull him back.
Passepartout was already ready to jump at the American. But Fix stood up first.
He walked toward Colonel Proctor.
“You seem to have forgotten that you have an unfinished matter with me. You insulted me before, and you struck me.”
“Mr. Fix,” Fogg said, “please excuse me, but this is my affair. The colonel has insulted me again, and he must answer for it.”
“Whenever and wherever you like,” Proctor replied. “Choose the place, and choose the weapon.”
Aouda tried desperately to stop Fogg.
Fix also tried to take responsibility for the quarrel.
Passepartout looked ready to throw Proctor out of the window.
But one quiet gesture from his master stopped him.
Fogg left the car, and Colonel Proctor followed him onto the platform.
“Sir,” Fogg said, “I am in a great hurry to return to Europe. Any delay would be extremely inconvenient for me.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Proctor demanded.
“After meeting you in San Francisco, I decided that once I had finished the business that brought me to England, I would return to America and find you.”
“Really?”
“Would you agree to meet me six months from now?”
“Why not ten years from now?”
“Six months,” Fogg replied. “I will be at the appointed place on time.”
“That is just an excuse!” Proctor shouted. “Now or never!”
“Very well. Are you going to New York?”
“No.”
“Chicago?”
“No.”
“Omaha?”
“What difference does it make to you? Do you know Plum Creek?”
“No,” said Fogg.
“It is the next station. We will reach it in about an hour, and the train will stop for ten minutes. That is plenty of time for us to exchange several revolver shots.”
“Very well,” Fogg said. “I will get off at Plum Creek.”
“And I suppose you’ll stay there too,” the American said mockingly.
“Who knows?”
Fogg returned to the car as calmly as though nothing had happened.
He reassured Aouda that men who made so much noise were rarely worth fearing.
Then he asked Fix to act as his second in the duel.
The detective had no choice but to agree.
After that, Fogg simply sat down and continued his game of whist.
At eleven o’clock, the locomotive whistle announced their arrival at Plum Creek.
Fogg stood up.
Fix followed him onto the platform.
Passepartout came too, carrying a pair of revolvers.
Aouda stayed behind in the car, as pale as death.
The door of the next car opened.
Colonel Proctor stepped out, accompanied by an American who would act as his second.
The two opponents were just about to leave the train when the conductor came running toward them.
“You can’t get off, gentlemen!”
“Why not?” Proctor demanded.
“We’re twenty minutes late. We won’t be stopping here.”
“But I’m supposed to fight a duel with this gentleman!”
“I’m sorry,” the conductor said. “But the train is leaving immediately. You can hear the bell.”
The train began moving.
The conductor looked at the two men.
“I’m truly sorry, gentlemen. Under different circumstances, I’d be happy to help. But since you don’t have time to fight here, why not fight while the train is moving?”
“That might not be very convenient for this gentleman,” Proctor said sarcastically.
“It will be perfectly convenient,” Fogg replied.
Passepartout could hardly believe what he was hearing.
“So this really is America,” he muttered. “And what a remarkable conductor!”
The two duelists, their seconds, and the conductor walked through the train toward the last car.
Only about twelve passengers were sitting there.
The conductor politely asked them to leave for a few minutes because two gentlemen had an important matter to settle.
The passengers immediately agreed and moved out onto the platform.
The last car was about fifty feet long, giving the two men plenty of room.
They could walk toward each other along the aisle and fire whenever they wished.
It was perhaps the easiest duel ever arranged.
Fogg and Colonel Proctor each carried two six-shot revolvers.
They entered the car.
Their seconds stayed outside and closed the doors.
They would begin shooting at the first whistle of the locomotive.
Two minutes later, whatever remained of the two men would be removed from the car.
Everything had been arranged with remarkable simplicity.
Yet Fix and Passepartout stood outside with their hearts pounding.
They waited for the whistle.
Suddenly, terrible screams erupted from the front of the train.
Gunshots followed.
Then more shots came from farther down the train.
Passengers screamed in terror.
Fogg and Proctor immediately forgot their duel.
With revolvers in hand, they rushed out of the car and toward the noise.
They soon discovered the cause.
The train was under attack by a band of Sioux warriors.
This was not the first time these Indians had attacked trains along the line.
Around a hundred of them had jumped onto the train without stopping it. They climbed aboard with astonishing speed, almost like circus performers jumping onto a moving horse.
They carried guns and began firing.
The passengers, many of whom were armed themselves, fought back with revolvers.
The attackers had first taken control of the locomotive.
They struck the engineer and the fireman with their guns, leaving them nearly unconscious.
One Sioux chief wanted to stop the train, but he did not understand how the controls worked.
Instead of closing the steam valve, he opened it fully.
The result was disastrous.
The locomotive began racing forward at terrifying speed.
At the same time, the Sioux spread through the passenger cars.
They jumped across the roofs, forced open doors, and fought the passengers at close range.
They broke into the baggage car and began throwing trunks out of the train.
Everywhere there were screams and gunshots.
The passengers fought bravely.
Some locked themselves inside the cars and turned them into moving fortresses.
The train was now racing across the plains at nearly one hundred miles an hour.
Aouda showed extraordinary courage.
She had taken a revolver and fired through the broken windows whenever an attacker appeared.
Several Sioux fell wounded.
Some were thrown onto the tracks, where the wheels passed over them.
Several passengers had also been shot or knocked unconscious and were lying across the seats.
The battle had already lasted ten minutes.
If the train was not stopped, the Sioux might take complete control.
Fort Kearney was only two miles away, and a military garrison was stationed there.
If they could reach the fort, the soldiers might save them.
But if the train passed the fort, the attackers would have control of the train for many more miles.
The conductor was fighting beside Fogg when a bullet struck him.
He collapsed.
With his last strength, he cried:
“Unless we stop this train within five minutes, we’re lost!”
“We will stop it,” Fogg replied.
He prepared to leave the car.
“Wait, sir!” Passepartout shouted. “I’ll do it!”
Before Fogg could stop him, Passepartout opened a door that the Indians had not noticed and slipped underneath the train.
Bullets flew above his head as the battle continued.
Using the acrobatic skills he had developed during his earlier adventures, Passepartout moved beneath the cars with astonishing speed.
He held onto the chains, used the brakes and the edges of the car frames for support, and crawled from one car to the next.
Slowly, dangerously, he made his way toward the front of the train.
At last, he reached the space between the baggage car and the locomotive’s tender.
Hanging there with one hand, he used the other to loosen the safety chains.
But the train was moving so violently that he could not unscrew the connecting bar.
Then a sudden violent jolt shook the train.
The connecting bar was knocked loose.
The cars were separated from the locomotive.
The train continued moving forward for a while because of its momentum, but the locomotive raced farther ahead at an even greater speed.
The brakes were finally applied.
Slowly, the train came to a stop less than a hundred feet from Fort Kearney.
The soldiers at the fort had heard the gunfire and rushed toward the train.
The Sioux had not expected the soldiers to arrive so quickly.
They abandoned the train and fled together.
The passengers gathered on the platform and began counting one another.
Then they realized something was wrong.
Several passengers were missing.
Among them was the brave Frenchman whose courage had just saved them all.
Passepartout was gone.