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26 - Around The World in Eighty Days - Jules Verne · Classic Adventure Books Collection

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  Chapter twenty six, in which Phileas Fogg and party travel by the Pacific Railroad
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  from ocean to ocean, So say the Americans, and these four words composed
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  the general designation of the Great Trunk Line, which crosses the entire width of
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  the United States. The Pacific Railroad is, however, really divided into two
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  distinct lines, the Central Pacific between San Francisco and Ogden and the Union Pacific
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  between Ogden and Omaha. Five main lines connect Omaha with New York. New
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  York and San Francisco are thus united by an uninterrupted metal ribbon, which measures
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  no less than three thousand, seven hundred and eighty six miles. Between Omaha
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  and the Pacific, the railway crosses a territory which is still infested by Indians
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  and wild beasts, and a large tract which the Mormons, after they were
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  driven from Illinois in eighteen forty five, began to colonize. The journey from
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  New York to San Francisco consumed formally, under the most favorable conditions at least
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  six months. It is now accomplished in seven days. It was in eighteen
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  sixty two that, in spite of the southern members of Congress, who wished
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  a more southerly route. It was decided to lay the road between the forty
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  first and forty second parallels. President Lincoln himself fixed the end of the line
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  at Omaha in Nebraska. The work was at once commenced and pursued with the
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  true American energy. Nor did the rapidity with which it went on injuriously affect
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  its good execution. The road grew on the prairies a mile and a half
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  a day. A locomotive running on the rails laid down the evening before,
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  brought the rails to be laid on the morrow, and advanced upon them as
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  fast as they were put in position. The Pacific Sick Railroad is joined by
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  several branches in Iowa, Kansas, Colorado, and Oregon. On leaving Omaha,
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  it passes along the left bank of the Platte River as far as the
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  junction of its northern branch follows its southern branch, crosses the Laramie Territory and
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  the Wasatch Mountains, turns the Great Salt Lake and reaches Salt Lake City.
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  The Mormon capital plunges into the Tuila Valley across the American Desert. Cedar and
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  Humboldt Mountains the Sierra Nevada and descends via Sacramento to the Pacific, its grade
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  even on the Rocky mountains, never exceeding one hundred and twelve feet to the
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  mile. Such was the road to be traversed in seven days, which would
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  enable Phileas Fogg at least, so he hoped to take the Atlantic Steamer at
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  New York on the eleventh for Liverpool. The car which he occupied was a
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  sort of long omnibus on eight wheels and with milkom apartments in the interior.
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  It was supplied with two rows of seats perpendicular to the direction of the train
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  on either side of an aisle which conducted to the front and rear platforms.
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  These platforms were found throughout the train and the passengers were able to pass from
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  one end of the train to the other. It was supplied with saloon cars,
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  balcony cars, restaurants and smoking cars. Theater cars alone were wanting and
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  they will have these some day. Book and news dealers, sellers of edibles,
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  drinkables and cigars, who seemed to have plenty of customers, were continually
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  circulating in the aisles. The train left Oakland station at six o'clock. It
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  was already night, cold and cheerless, the heavens being overcast with clouds which
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  seemed to threaten snow. The train did not proceed rapidly. Counting the stoppages,
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  it did not run more than twenty miles an hour, which was a
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  sufficient speed, however, to enable it to reach Omaha within its designated time.
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  There was but little conversation in the car, and soon many of the
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  passengers were overcome with sleep. Passepartout found himself beside the detective, but he
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  did not talk to him. After recent events, their relations with each other
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  had grown somewhat cold. There could no longer be mutual sympathy or intimacy between
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  them. Fix's manner had not changed, but Passepartout was very reserved and ready
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  to strangle his former friend on the slightest provocation. Snow began to fall an
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  hour after they started, a fine snow, however, which happily could not
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  obstruct the train. Nothing could be seen from the windows but a vast white
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  sheet, against which the smoke of the locomotive had a grayish aspect. At
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  eight o'clock, a steward entered the car and announced that the time for going
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  to bed had arrived, and in a few two minutes the car was transformed
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  into a dormitory. The backs of the seats were thrown back, bedsteads carefully
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  packed, were rolled out by an ingenious system. Berths were suddenly improvised,
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  and each traveler had soon had his disposition a comfortable bed, protected from curious
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  eyes by thick curtains. The sheets were clean and the pillows soft. It
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  only remained to go to bed and sleep, which everybody did while the train
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  sped on across the state of California. The country between San Francisco and Sacramento
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  is not very hilly. The Central Pacific, taking Sacramento for its starting point,
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  extends eastward to meet the road from Omaha. The line from San Francisco
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  to Sacramento runs in a northeasterly direction along the American River, which empties into
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  San Pablo Bay. The one hundred and twenty miles between these cities was accomplished
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  in six hours, and towards midnight, while fast asleep, the travelers passed
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  through Sacramento, so that they saw nothing of that important place, the seat
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  of the state government, with its fine keys, its broad streets, its
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  noble hotels, squares and churches. The train, on leaving Sacramento and passing
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  the junction Roklan, Auburn and Colfax, entered the range of the Sierra Nevada.
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  Cisco was reached at seven in the morning, and an hour later the
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  dormitory was transformed into an ordinary car, and the travelers could observe the picturesque
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  beauties of the mountain region through which they were steaming. The railway track wound
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  in and out among the passes, now approaching the mountain sides, now suspended
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  over precipices, avoiding abrupt angles by bold curves, plunging into narrow defiles which
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  seemed to have no outlet. The locomotive, its great funnel, emitting a
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  weird light with its sharp bell and its cowcatcher extended like a spur mingled its
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  shrieks and bellowings with a noise of torrents and cascades, and twined its smoke
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  among the branches of the gigantic pines. There were few or no bridges or
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  tunnels on the route. The railway turned around the sides of the mountains and
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  did not attempt to violate nature by taking the shortest cut from one point to
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  another. The train entered the state of Nevada through the Carson Valley about nine
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  o'clock, going always northeasterly, and at midday reached Reno, where there was
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  a delay of twenty minutes for breakfast. From this point, the road running
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  along Humboldt River passed northward for several miles by its banks. Then it turned
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  eastward and kept by the river until it reached the Humboldt Range, nearly at
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  the extreme eastern limit of Nevada. Having breakfast, mister Fogg and his companions
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  resumed their places in the car and observed the varied landscape which unfolded itself as
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  they passed along the vast prairies, the mountains lining the horizon, and the
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  creeks with their frothy, foaming streams. Sometimes a great herd of buffaloes massing
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  together in the distance seemed like a movable dam. These innumerable multitudes of ruminating
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  beasts often form an insurmountable obstacle to the passage of the trains. Thousands of
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  them have been seen passing over the track for hours together in compact ranks.
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  The locomotive is then forced to stop and wait till the road is once more
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  clear. This happened indeed to the train in which mister Fogg was traveling.
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  About twelve o'clock. A troop of ten or twelve thousand head of buffalo encumbered
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  the track. The locomotive, slackening at speed, tried to clear the way
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  with its cowcare, but the mass of animals was too great. The buffaloes
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  marched along with a tranquil gait, uttering now and then, deafening bellowings.
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  There was no use of interrupting them, for having taken a particular direction,
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  nothing can moderate and changed their course. It is a torrent of living flesh
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  which no dam could contain. The travelers gazed on this curious spectacle from the
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  platforms, But Phileas Fogg, who had the most reason of all to be
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  in a hurry, remained in his seat and waited philosophically until it should please
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  the buffaloes to get out of the way. Passepartout was furious at the delay
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  they occasioned, and longed to discharge his arsenal of revolvers upon them. What
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  the country cried, he mere cattle, Stop the trains and go by any
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  procession, just as if they were not impeding travel. Par Bleu. I
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  should like to know if mister Fogg foresaw this in his program. And here's
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  an engineer who doesn't dare to run the locomotive into this herd of beasts.
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  The engineer did not try to overcome the obstacle, and he was wise.
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  He would have crushed the first buffaloes, no doubt with the cowcatcher, but
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  the locomotive, however powerful, would soon have been checked. The train would
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  inevitably have been thrown off the track, and would then have been helpless.
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  The best course was to wait patiently and regain the lost time by greater speed
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  when the obstacle was removed. The procession of buffaloes lasted three full hours,
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  and it was night before the track was clear. The last ranks of the
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  herd were now passing over the rails, while the first had already disappeared below
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  the southern horizon. It was eight o'clock when the train passed through the defiles
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  of the Humboldt Range, and half past nine when it penetrated Utah, the
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  region of the Great Salt Lake, the singular colony of the Mormons. End of chapter