The train left Great Salt Lake and continued north for about an hour before turning east toward the rugged Wahsatch Mountains.
The railway engineers had faced their greatest challenges in this region. Instead of cutting straight through the mountains, they had built the track around the cliffs and slopes. Only one long tunnel had been necessary.
As the train climbed and descended through the mountains, Passepartout became increasingly nervous.
“Why did my master choose to make this journey in winter?” he thought. “Couldn’t he have waited for better weather?”
Fix was even more anxious. He wanted to get through the mountains without any delay and reach England as soon as possible.
At ten that night, the train stopped at Fort Bridger. Twenty minutes later, it entered Wyoming Territory and continued along Bitter Creek.
The next day, December 7, the train stopped briefly at Green River.
Snow had fallen heavily during the night, but rain had mixed with it and melted much of the snow.
Passepartout still hated the weather.
“If the snow gets worse, it could block the wheels,” he thought. “That could ruin everything!”
But Aouda had noticed something far more worrying.
Several passengers had stepped onto the platform at Green River.
Then she saw a familiar face.
Colonel Stamp Proctor.
He was the same man who had insulted Phileas Fogg at the meeting in San Francisco.
Aouda quickly moved away from the window.
“Oh no,” she thought. “He must not see Mr. Fogg.”
She cared deeply for Fogg now. She told herself that her feelings were only gratitude, but her heart told a different story.
She knew that Fogg intended to confront Colonel Proctor someday.
If Fogg saw him now, a fight might break out, and that could destroy their entire journey.
While Fogg was asleep, Aouda quietly told Fix and Passepartout what she had seen.
“Colonel Proctor is on this train?” Fix exclaimed. “Then don’t worry, madam. Before he gets anywhere near Mr. Fogg, he will have to deal with me.”
Passepartout immediately joined in.
“And I’ll deal with him too, even if he is a colonel.”
Aouda shook her head.
“No. Mr. Fogg will not allow either of you to fight for him. He said he would return to America one day and settle the matter himself.”
Fix nodded.
“You are right. If they meet, Mr. Fogg could be delayed whether he wins or loses.”
“And that,” Passepartout added, “would make the Reform Club gentlemen very happy. We should keep my master inside this train until we reach New York.”
Aouda agreed.
“We must make sure he never sees Colonel Proctor.”
Just then, Fogg woke up and began looking out of the window.
Passepartout quietly leaned toward Fix.
“Would you really fight for my master?”
Fix answered without hesitation.
“I would do anything to make sure he reaches Europe alive.”
Passepartout felt a strange chill.
He still trusted his master completely, but Fix’s answer had sounded unusually serious.
A few moments later, Fix suddenly had an idea.
“These railway journeys are rather long and dull,” he said to Fogg.
“Yes,” Fogg replied calmly. “But the hours pass.”
“You used to play whist on the steamers, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but we have no cards or players here.”
“We can buy cards. They sell them on the trains. And if Madame Aouda plays, we already have a partner.”
“I do play,” Aouda said quickly. “It was part of my English education.”
“I am also quite a good player,” Fix added.
Fogg looked interested.
“There are three of us. We only need a fourth hand.”
“Then let us play,” Fogg said.
Passepartout was sent to find the steward.
He soon returned with two packs of cards, counters, pins, and a small cloth-covered table.
The game began.
Aouda played well enough to earn compliments from Fogg.
Fix was an excellent player and a worthy opponent.
Passepartout watched them with satisfaction.
“Perfect,” he thought. “We’ve got him. He won’t leave this car now.”
Late that morning, the train reached Bridger Pass, more than 7,500 feet above sea level.
It was one of the highest points on the entire railway.
After traveling another two hundred miles, the train finally crossed the Rocky Mountains and reached the enormous plains stretching toward the Atlantic.
The snow stopped falling.
The air was cold and sharp.
Large birds flew away as the locomotive approached, but no wild animals could be seen.
The plains seemed endless and empty.
After breakfast, Fogg and the others returned to their game of whist.
Then suddenly—
Woooooo!
The train gave a violent whistle and came to a stop.
Passepartout looked outside.
There was no station anywhere.
Aouda and Fix immediately became nervous.
“What if Mr. Fogg gets out?” Aouda whispered.
But Fogg remained perfectly calm.
“Passepartout,” he said, “go and see what has happened.”
Passepartout hurried outside.
Thirty or forty passengers had already left the train.
And among them was Colonel Stamp Proctor.
Passepartout froze when he saw him.
The train had stopped before a red signal.
The engineer and conductor were arguing with a signalman who had been sent from Medicine Bow, the next station.
Passepartout pushed closer and listened.
“You cannot go any farther,” the signalman said. “The bridge at Medicine Bow is unsafe. It won’t support the train.”
“What happened to it?” someone asked.
“Several iron cables have broken. The bridge is in terrible condition.”
The bridge crossed a dangerous stretch of rapids about a mile away.
The passengers began complaining.
Colonel Proctor was especially loud.
“So what are we supposed to do?” he demanded. “Stay here in the snow and grow roots?”
“We have telegraphed Omaha,” the conductor explained. “Another train will be sent to us, but it probably won’t reach Medicine Bow for at least six hours.”
“Six hours?” Passepartout cried.
“Yes. And it would take us about the same amount of time to walk there.”
“But Medicine Bow is only a mile away!” a passenger protested.
“Only a mile by distance,” the conductor replied. “The river is between us and the station.”
“Can’t we take a boat?” Colonel Proctor asked.
“No. The river is swollen from the rain and moving too fast. We’d have to travel about ten miles north to find a safe crossing.”
Colonel Proctor exploded with anger.
He cursed the railway company and the conductor.
Passepartout was furious too.
“This is a disaster,” he thought. “All the money in the world can’t make an unsafe bridge safe.”
The passengers were becoming increasingly frustrated.
They faced a long walk through the snow if they wanted to reach Medicine Bow.
Passepartout knew he would have to tell Fogg.
Just as he was about to return to the train, the engineer, a man named Forster, suddenly spoke.
“Gentlemen, perhaps there is another way.”
“Another way?” someone asked.
“We can cross the bridge.”
“With the train?” another passenger asked.
“With the train.”
Passepartout stared at him.
“But the bridge is unsafe!” the conductor protested.
“I know,” Forster replied. “But if we drive the train at full speed, we might get across before the bridge collapses.”
Passepartout couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“That is crazy!”
But the passengers were excited by the idea.
Colonel Proctor especially liked it.
“We should do it!” he declared.
The engineer explained that speed might carry the train across before the bridge had time to give way.
“We have a fifty percent chance,” one passenger said.
“Eighty percent!” another shouted.
“Ninety!”
Passepartout tried to reason with them.
“Perhaps there is a safer way.”
“No need for safer ideas,” one American replied. “The engineer says we can cross.”
“But surely it would be more sensible—”
“What did you say?” Colonel Proctor demanded.
“More sensible?” he repeated angrily. “You don’t want us to slow down, do you? We must go at full speed!”
Passepartout tried again.
“I only mean that there is a more natural way—”
Several passengers turned on him.
“What is wrong with this fellow?”
“Are you afraid?” Colonel Proctor challenged him.
Passepartout’s pride took over.
“Afraid? Fine! I’ll show you that a Frenchman can be just as American as you!”
“All aboard!” the conductor shouted.
“Yes, all aboard!” Passepartout shouted back.
Then he muttered to himself,
“But wouldn’t it be much more sensible to cross the river on foot and let the train follow us?”
Nobody listened.
Everyone climbed back aboard.
Passepartout returned to his seat without telling Fogg what had happened.
Fogg and his companions were still completely absorbed in their game of whist.
The locomotive gave a powerful whistle.
Then the engineer did something extraordinary.
He reversed the engine and backed the entire train almost a mile.
It was as if he were stepping backward before making a giant jump.
Then he released the brakes.
The locomotive shot forward.
The train gathered speed faster and faster.
The wheels screamed against the rails.
The pistons hammered up and down at incredible speed.
Soon the train was racing at nearly one hundred miles an hour.
It seemed as if the whole train were barely touching the rails.
Then—
They reached the bridge.
In an instant, the entire train flew across it.
No one even had time to see the bridge beneath them.
The train had practically jumped from one side of the river to the other.
The engineer could not stop it until they were five miles beyond the station.
And then, behind them, came a tremendous crash.
The bridge had completely collapsed into the raging waters of Medicine Bow.