Three passengers, including Passepartout, were missing.
No one knew whether they had been killed in the attack or captured by the Sioux.
Many passengers were wounded, but fortunately none of them was dying. Colonel Proctor was among the most seriously injured. He had fought bravely, but a bullet had struck him in the groin. He was carried into the station with the other wounded passengers.
Aouda was safe.
Phileas Fogg, who had fought in the middle of the battle, had not been hurt at all.
Fix had only a slight wound in his arm.
But Passepartout was nowhere to be found.
Tears ran down Aouda’s face.
The passengers had all left the train. Blood covered the wheels, and torn pieces of flesh hung from the spokes and metal rims. Across the white snow behind them, red trails marked the path of the battle.
Far away, the last of the Sioux were disappearing south along the Republican River.
Fogg stood perfectly still with his arms folded.
He had a difficult decision to make.
Aouda stood beside him without saying a word. She looked at him, and he immediately understood what she was asking.
If Passepartout had been captured, should he risk everything to rescue him?
“I will find him,” Fogg said quietly. “Alive or dead.”
“Oh, Mr. Fogg!” Aouda cried, taking his hands and covering them with tears.
“Alive,” Fogg added, “if we do not waste a moment.”
By making this decision, Fogg was almost certainly giving up his bet.
If he lost even one day, he would miss the steamer at New York. His journey around the world in eighty days would fail.
But Fogg did not hesitate.
It is my duty.
The commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there with about a hundred soldiers. They had taken up defensive positions in case the Sioux returned.
“Captain,” Fogg said, “three passengers are missing.”
“Are they dead?” the captain asked.
“They may be dead, or they may be prisoners. We must find out. Will you pursue the Sioux?”
“That would be extremely dangerous, sir,” the captain replied. “The Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas River. I cannot leave the fort without protection.”
“The lives of three men are at stake.”
“I understand that. But can I risk the lives of fifty soldiers to save three passengers?”
“I cannot tell you whether you can,” Fogg said. “But I believe you should.”
“No one here has the right to tell me what my duty is.”
“Very well,” Fogg replied coldly. “I will go alone.”
“You?” Fix exclaimed as he approached. “You intend to pursue the Indians by yourself?”
“Would you have me abandon a man who may owe his life to us? I am going.”
“No, sir,” the captain suddenly said. “You will not go alone.”
The captain was clearly moved by Fogg’s courage.
“Thirty volunteers!” he shouted to his soldiers.
Almost the entire company stepped forward.
The captain selected thirty men and placed an experienced old sergeant in command.
“Thank you, Captain,” Fogg said.
“May I go with you?” Fix asked.
“Do as you wish,” Fogg replied. “But if you really want to help me, stay here with Aouda.”
He paused.
“If anything happens to me…”
A sudden change came over Fix’s face.
Leave Fogg now?
After following him around the world, was he really going to let the man disappear into the wilderness?
Fix stared at Fogg.
Despite all his suspicions, and despite the struggle inside his own mind, he could not hold Fogg’s calm and honest gaze.
“I will stay,” Fix finally said.
A few minutes later, Fogg took Aouda’s hand.
He gave her his precious carpetbag and then left with the sergeant and the thirty soldiers.
Before leaving, he turned to the soldiers.
“My friends, I will divide five thousand dollars among you if we rescue the prisoners.”
It was a little after noon.
Aouda went into the waiting room and sat alone.
She could not stop thinking about Phileas Fogg.
He had calmly sacrificed his money and was now risking his life for another man.
He had done it without complaint, without hesitation, and without asking anyone for praise.
Fix felt very differently.
He paced restlessly up and down the platform, although he soon managed to regain his usual calm appearance.
He suddenly realized what a terrible mistake he had made by allowing Fogg to leave.
What was I thinking?
The man I have followed all the way around the world has now gone into this wilderness without me!
And I have a warrant for his arrest in my pocket!
How could I let myself become so fascinated by him?
I really am an idiot!
The detective continued arguing with himself while the hours passed painfully slowly.
He had no idea what to do.
Several times he thought about telling Aouda the truth.
But he could already imagine how she would react.
Should he follow Fogg across the endless snowy plains?
Perhaps he could catch up with him.
Footprints were easy to follow in the snow.
But another snowfall could cover them completely.
Fix became discouraged.
For the first time, he felt a powerful desire to give up the entire pursuit.
He could simply leave Fort Kearney and continue home.
Then, around two o’clock, heavy snow began to fall.
Suddenly, long whistles came from the east.
A huge shadow slowly appeared through the snow.
A strange light seemed to move before it, making the approaching shape look enormous and almost unreal.
No train was expected from the east.
The telegraph request for help could not possibly have produced a train so quickly.
The next train from Omaha to San Francisco was not due until the following day.
The mystery was soon solved.
It was the locomotive from Fogg’s train.
After becoming separated from the rest of the train, it had continued forward at terrifying speed, carrying the unconscious engineer and fireman with it.
It had traveled for several miles before the fire began to die because there was no more fuel.
The locomotive gradually slowed and finally stopped about twenty miles beyond Fort Kearney.
The engineer and fireman were not dead.
After some time, they regained consciousness.
The engineer looked around and realized that he was in the middle of the wilderness with no train behind him.
He could not understand how the locomotive had become separated from the train.
But he immediately realized that something must have gone wrong.
The train left behind might still be in danger.
The safest thing would have been to continue toward Omaha.
Returning to the train could be dangerous if the Indians were still attacking it.
But the engineer did not hesitate.
He rebuilt the fire in the furnace.
Soon the pressure rose again.
Then he turned the locomotive around and drove it backward toward Fort Kearney.
That was the train now approaching through the snow.
Everyone was delighted to see the locomotive return.
At last, they could continue their interrupted journey.
Aouda rushed out of the station as soon as she saw it.
“Are you going to leave?” she asked the conductor.
“At once, madam.”
“But what about the prisoners? What about our unfortunate fellow travellers?”
“I cannot delay the train,” the conductor replied. “We are already three hours late.”
“When will another train from San Francisco come?”
“Tomorrow evening.”
“Tomorrow evening? That will be too late! We must wait.”
“That is impossible,” said the conductor. “If you want to continue, please get aboard.”
“I will not go,” Aouda said firmly.
Fix had heard everything.
A short while earlier, when there had seemed to be no way for the journey to continue, he had decided to leave Fort Kearney.
But now the train was standing there, ready to depart.
All he had to do was climb aboard.
Yet something inside him refused to move.
The platform seemed to burn beneath his feet.
His inner struggle returned.
Anger, frustration, and disappointment filled his mind.
But he could not bring himself to leave.
He wanted to see this strange journey through to the end.
Meanwhile, the passengers and several wounded men, including the seriously injured Colonel Proctor, boarded the train.
The boiler hissed.
Steam escaped from the valves.
The engineer blew his whistle.
The train began to move.
Soon it disappeared into the snow, its white smoke blending with the thick storm.
Fix remained behind.
Several hours passed.
The weather became even more miserable.
The cold was intense.
Fix sat motionless on a bench in the station. He looked as though he were asleep.
Aouda kept coming out of the waiting room despite the storm.
She walked to the end of the platform and stared into the snow, trying to see through the mist.
Perhaps she would catch sight of Fogg.
Perhaps she would hear the sound of the returning soldiers.
But she saw nothing.
She would go back inside, freezing from the cold, only to come outside again a few minutes later.
Evening arrived.
Still, the rescue party had not returned.
Where were they?
Had they found the Indians and been forced into another battle?
Or were they still lost somewhere in the snow?
The commander of the fort was deeply worried, although he tried not to show it.
As night fell, the snow became lighter.
But the temperature dropped sharply.
The plains became completely silent.
There was no bird in the sky.
No animal crossed the snow.
Nothing disturbed the endless stillness.
Aouda spent the entire night near the edge of the plains.
Her heart was filled with fear.
Her imagination showed her one terrible possibility after another.
She could only think about the dangers Fogg and the others might be facing.
It would have been impossible to describe how much she suffered during those long hours.
Fix remained on the same bench.
He did not sleep.
Once, a man approached him and spoke to him.
Fix simply shook his head.
The night passed.
At dawn, the weak sun appeared above the misty horizon.
The snow had stopped falling so heavily, and objects could now be seen from about two miles away.
Fogg and the soldiers had gone south.
The southern horizon was still empty.
It was seven o’clock.
The captain was now seriously worried.
Should he send another group of soldiers to search for the first?
Would he be risking even more lives without knowing whether the first group could be saved?
He hesitated only briefly.
He called one of his lieutenants and was about to order a search.
Then gunshots suddenly rang out.
Could they be a signal?
The soldiers rushed out of the fort.
Half a mile away, they saw a small group approaching.
They were returning safely.
Phileas Fogg was at the front.
And directly behind him were Passepartout and the other two missing passengers.
They had found the Sioux about ten miles south of Fort Kearney.
Just before Fogg and his soldiers arrived, Passepartout and the other prisoners had begun fighting their captors.
Passepartout had already knocked three of the Indians down with his fists when Fogg and the soldiers came rushing to their rescue.
Everyone greeted them with cries of joy.
Fogg immediately paid the five thousand dollars he had promised the soldiers.
Passepartout looked around and muttered to himself,
“I have to admit, I cost my master quite a lot of money!”
Fix said nothing.
He simply stared at Fogg.
It would have been impossible to know exactly what was going through the detective’s mind.
Aouda took Fogg’s hand and held it tightly.
She was too moved to speak.
Meanwhile, Passepartout looked around for the train.
He had expected to find it waiting at the station, ready to continue toward Omaha.
He hoped they could make up some of the time they had lost.
“The train!” he shouted. “Where is the train?”
“Gone,” Fix replied.
“When will the next train arrive?” Fogg asked.
“Not until this evening.”
“Ah,” said Fogg calmly.