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

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  Chapter thirty, in which Phileas Fogg simply does his duty. Three passengers,
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  including Passepartout, had disappeared. Had they been killed in the struggle? Were
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  they taken prisoners by the Sioux? It was impossible to tell. There were
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  many wounded, but none mortally. Colonel Proctor was one of the most seriously
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  hurt. He had fought bravely and a ball had entered his groin. He
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  was carried into the station with the other wounded passengers to receive such attention as
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  could be of avail. Aouda was safe, and Phileas Fogg, who had
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  been in the thickest of the fight, had not received a scratch. Fix
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  was slightly wounded in the arm, but Passepartout was not to be found,
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  and tears coursed down Aouda's cheeks. All the passengers had got out of the
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  train, the wheels of which were stained with blood from the tires and spokes
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  hung ragged pieces of flesh as far as the eye could reach. On the
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  white plain, behind, red trails were visible. The last Sioux were disappearing
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  in the south along the banks of the Republican River. Mister Fogg, with
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  folded arms remained motionless. He had a serious decision to make. Aouda standing
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  near him, looked at him without speaking, and he understood her look.
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  If his servant was a prisoner, ought he not to risk everything to rescue
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  him from the Indians. I will find him living or dead, said he
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  quietly to Aouda. Ah. Mister mister Fogg cried, she clasping his hands
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  and covering them with tears. Living, added mister Fogg, if we do
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  not lose a moment, phileas Fogg, by this resolution, inevitably sacrificed himself.
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  He pronounced his own doom. The delay of a single day would make
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  him lose the steamer at New York, and his beck would be certainly lost.
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  But as he thought it is my duty, he did not hesitate.
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  The commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there. A hundred of his soldiers had
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  placed themselves in a position to defend the station should the Sioux attack it,
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  Sir, said mister Fogg to the captain. Three passengers have disappeared dead,
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  asked the captain, dead or prisoners. That is the uncertainty which must be
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  solved. Do you propose to pursue the Sioux that's a serious thing to do,
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  sir, returned the captain. These Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas,
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  and I cannot leave the fort unprotected. The lives of three men are in
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  question, sir, said Phileas Fogg, doubtless. But can I risk the
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  lives of fifty men to say three. I don't know whether you can,
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  sir, but you ought to do so. Nobody here returned. The other
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  has a right to teach me my duty very well, said mister Fogg coldly.
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  I will go alone, you, sir, cried Fix, coming up.
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  You go alone in pursuit of the Indians. Would you have me leave
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  this poor fellow to perish him to whom every one present owes his life.
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  I shall go. No, sir, you shall not go alone, cried
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  the captain, touched in spite of himself. No, you are a brave
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  man. Thirty volunteers, he added, turning to the soldiers. The whole
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  company started forward at once. The captain had only to pick his men.
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  Thirty were chosen, and an old sergeant placed at their head. Thanks captain,
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  said mister Fogg. Would you let me go with you? Asked Fix,
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  Do as you please, sir, But if you wish to do me
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  a favor, you will remain with Aouda in case anything should happen to me,
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  a sudden pallor overspread the detective's face, separate himself from the man whom
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  he had so persistently followed step by step, Leave him to wander about in
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  this desert. Fix gazed attentively at mister Fogg, and despite his suspicions and
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  of the struggle which was going on within him, he lowered his eyes before
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  that, calm and frank, look, I will stay, said he.
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  A few moments after, mister Fogg pressed the young woman's hand, and,
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  having confided to her his precious carpet bag, went off with the sergeant and
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  his little squad. But before going he had said to the soldiers, my
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  friends, I will divide five thousand dollars among you if we save the prisoners.
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  It was then a little past noon. Aouda retired to a waiting room,
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  and there she waited alone, thinking of the simple and noble generosity,
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  the tranquil courage of Phileas Fogg. He had sacrificed his fortune and was now
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  risking his life, all without hesitation from duty. In silence, Fix did
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  not have the same thoughts and could scarcely conceal his agitation. He walked feverishly
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  up and down the platform, but soon resumed his outward composure. He now
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  saw the folly of which he had been guilty in letting Fogg go alone.
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  What this man, whom he had just followed around the world, was permitted
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  now to separate himself from him. He began to accuse and abuse himself,
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  and, as if he were director of police, administered to himself a sound
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  lecture for his greenness. I have been an idiot, he thought, and
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  this man will see it. He has gone and won't come back. But
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  how is it that I Fix, who have in my pocket a warrant for
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  his arrest, had been so fascinated by him? Decidedly, I am nothing
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  but an ass so reasoned the detective. While the hours crept by all too
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  slowly, he did not know what to do. Sometimes he was tempted to
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  tell Aouda all, but he could not doubt how the young woman would receive
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  his confidences. What course should he take? He thought of pursuing Fog across
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  the vast white plains. It did not seem impossible that he might overtake him.
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  Footsteps were easily printed on the snow, but soon under a new sheet
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  every imprint would be effaced. Fix became discouraged. He felt a sort of
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  insurmountable longing to abandon the game altogether. He could now leave Fort Kearney Station
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  and pursue his journey homeward in peace. Towards two o'clock in the afternoon,
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  while it was snowing hard, long whistles were heard approaching from the east,
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  a great shadow, preceded by a wild light slowly advanced, appearing still larger
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  through the mist, which gave it a fantastic aspect. No train was expected
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  from the east, neither had there been time for the sucker asked for by
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  telegraph to arrive. The train from Omaha to San Francisco was not due till
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  the next day. The mystery was soon explained. The locomotive, which was
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  slowly approaching with deafening whistles, was that which, having been detached from the
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  train, had continued its route with such terrific rapidity, carrying off the unconscious
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  engineer in Stoker. It had run several miles when the fire becoming low for
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  want of fuel, the steam had slackened, and it had finally stopped an
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  hour after, some twenty miles beyond Fort Kearney. Neither the engineer nor the
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  stoker was dead, and after remaining for some time in their swoon, had
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  come to themselves. The train had then stopped. The engineer, when he
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  found himself in the desert and the locomotive without cars, understood what had happened.
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  He could not i imagine how the locomotive had become separated from the train,
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  but he did not doubt that the train left behind was in distress.
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  He did not hesitate what to do. It would be prudent to continue on
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  to Omaha, for it would be dangerous to return to the train, which
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  the Indians might still be engaged in pillaging. Nevertheless, he began to rebuild
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  the fire in the furnace. The pressure again mounted, and the engineer returned,
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  running backwards to Fort Kearney. This it was which was whistling in the
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  mist. The travelers were glad to see the locomotive resume its place at the
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  head of the train. They could now continue the journey so terribly interrupted.
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  Aouda, on seeing the locomotive come up, hurried out of the station,
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  and asked the conductor are you going to start at once? Madam? But
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  the prisoners are unfortunate fellow travelers. I cannot interrupt the trip, replied the
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  conductor. We are already three hours behind time. And when will another train
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  pass here from San Francisco tomorrow evening? Madam? Tomorrow evening. But then
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  it will be too late. We must wait. It is impossible, responded
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  the conductor. If you wish to go, please get in. I will
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  not go, said aouda Fix had heard this conversation a little while before,
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  when there was no prospect of proceeding on the journey, he had made up
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  his mind to leave Fort Kearney. But now that the train was there,
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  ready to start, and he had only to take his seat in the car,
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  an irresistible influence held him back. The station platform burned his feet,
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  and he could not stir. The conflict in his mind began again. Anger
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  and failure stifled him. He wished to struggle on to the end. Meanwhile,
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  the passengers and some the wounded, among them Colonel Proctor, whose injuries
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  were serious, had taken their places in the train. The buzzing of the
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  overheated boiler was heard and the steam was escaping from the valves. The engineer
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  whistled, The train started and soon disappeared, mingling its white smoke with the
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  eddies of the densely falling snow. The detective had remained behind. Several hours
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  passed, The weather was dismal and was very cold. Fix sat motionless on
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  a bench at the station. He might have been thought asleep. Aouda,
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  despite the storm, kept coming out of the waiting room, going to the
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  end of the platform and peering through the tempest of snow, as if to
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  pierce the mist that narrowed the horizon around her, and to hear, if
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  possible, some welcome sound. She heard and saw nothing, then she would
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  return, chilled through, to issue out again after the lapse of a few
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  moments, but always in vain. Evening came and the little man had not
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  returned. Where could they be? Had they found the Indians and were they
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  having a conflict with them? Or were they still wandering amid the mist.
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  The commander of the fort was anxious, though he tried to conceal his apprehensions.
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  As night approached, the snow fell as plentifully, but it became intensely
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  cold, absolute silence rested on the plains. Neither flight of bird nor passing
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  of beast troubled the perfect calm. Throughout the night, aouda full of sad
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  forebodings, her heart stifled with anguish, wandered about on the verge of the
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  plains. Her imagination carried her far off and showed her innumerable dangers. What
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  she suffered through the long hours it would be impossible to describe. Fix remained
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  stationary in the same place, but did not sleep. Once a man approached
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  and spoke to him, and the detective merely replied by shaking his head.
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  Thus the night passed. At dawn, the half extinguished disc of the sun
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  rose above a misty horizon, but it was now possible to recognized objects two
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  miles off Phileas Fogg and the squad had gone southward. In the south,
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  all was still vacancy. It was then seven o'clock. The captain, who
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  was really alarmed, did not know what course to take. Should he send
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  another detachment to the rescue of the first, should he sacrifice more men with
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  so few chances of saving those already sacrificed. His hesitation did not last long,
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  however, Calling one of his lieutenants. He was on the point of
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  ordering a reconnaissance when gunshots were heard. Was it a signal? The soldiers
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  rushed out of the fort, and half a mile off they perceived a little
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  band returned arning in good order. Mister Fogg was marching at their head,
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  and just behind him were Passepartout and the other two travelers, rescued from the
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  Sioux. They had met and fought the Indians ten miles south of Fort Kearney.
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  Shortly before the detachment arrived, Passepartout and his companions had begun to struggle
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  with their captors, three of which the Frenchman had felled with his fists.
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  When his master and the soldiers hastened up to their relief, all were welcomed
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  with joyful cries. Phileas Fogg distributed the reward he had promised to the soldiers,
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  while Passepartout, not without reason, muttered to himself, it must certainly
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  be confessed that I cost my master dear fix without saying a word. Looked
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  at mister Fogg, and it would have been difficult to analyze the thoughts which
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  struggled within him. As for Aouda, she took her Protector's hand and pressed
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  it in her own. Too much moved to speak. Meanwhile, Passepartout was
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  looking about for the train. He thought he should find it there, ready
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  to start for Omaha, and he hoped that the time loss might be regained.
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  The train, the train cried, he gone, replied, fix,
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  and when does the next train pass? Here, said Phileas Fogg. Not
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  till this evening, Ah returned the impassable gentleman quietly. End of chapter