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Around the World in Eighty Days
Chapter 30. IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SIMPLY DOES HIS DUTY
Three passengers including Passepartout had disappeared.
Had they been killed in the struggle?
Were they taken prisoners by the Sioux? It was impossible to tell.
There were many wounded, but none had died.
Colonel Proctor was one of the most seriously hurt.
He had fought bravely, and a bullet had hit his side.
He was carried into the station with the other wounded passengers to get such care as could help them.
Aouda was safe, and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the middle of the fight, hadn't received a scratch.
Fix was slightly wounded in the arm.
But Passepartout couldn't be found, and tears ran down Aouda's cheeks.
All the passengers had got out of the train, the wheels of which were stained with blood.
From the tyres and spokes hung torn pieces of flesh.
As far as the eye could reach on the white plain behind, red trails were visible.
The last Sioux were disappearing in the south along the banks of Republican River.
Mr. Fogg, with his arms folded, stayed motionless.
He had a serious choice to make.
Aouda, standing near him, looked at him without speaking, and he understood her look.
If his servant was a prisoner, shouldn't he risk everything to rescue him from the Indians?
"I'll find him, living or dead," he said quietly to Aouda.
"Ah, Mr. Mr. Fogg!" cried she, clasping his hands and covering them with tears.
"Living," added Mr. Fogg, "if we don't waste a moment."
Phileas Fogg, by this decision, gave up his chance.
He made his own loss certain.
The delay of a single day would make him miss the steamer at New York, and his bet would be lost.
But as he thought, "It's my duty," he didn't hesitate.
The commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there.
A hundred of his soldiers had placed themselves to defend the station if the Sioux attacked it.
"Sir," said Mr. Fogg to the captain, "three passengers have disappeared."
"Dead?" asked the captain.
"Dead or prisoners, that's the uncertainty we must solve. Do you plan to pursue the Sioux?"
"That's a serious thing to do, sir," replied the captain.
"These Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I can't leave the fort unprotected."
"The lives of three men are in question, sir," said Phileas Fogg.
"Doubtless, but can I risk the lives of fifty men to save three?"
"I don't know whether you can, sir, but you ought to do so."
"Nobody here," replied the other, "has a right to tell me my duty."
"Very well," said Mr. Fogg, coldly.
"I'll go alone."
"You, sir!" cried Fix, coming up.
"You go alone in pursuit of the Indians?"
"Would you have me leave this poor fellow to die, him to whom everyone here owes his life? I'll go."
"No, sir, you shall not go alone," cried the captain, touched despite himself.
"No, you're a brave man. Thirty volunteers!" he added, turning to the soldiers.
The whole company moved forward at once.
The captain only had to pick his men.
Thirty were chosen, and an old sergeant was placed at their head.
"Thanks, captain," said Mr. Fogg.
"Will you let me go with you?" asked Fix.
"Do as you please, sir. But if you want to do me a favor, you'll stay with Aouda. In case anything should happen to me, "
A sudden pallor spread over the detective's face.
Separate himself from the man whom he had so strongly followed step by step?
Leave him to wander in this desert?
Fix looked closely at Mr.
Fogg, and despite his doubts and the struggle inside him, he lowered his eyes before that calm and open look.
Fogg, and despite his doubts and the struggle inside him, he lowered his eyes before that calm and open look.
"I'll stay," said he.
A few moments later, Mr. Fogg pressed the young woman's hand, gave her his carpet-bag, and left with sergeant and his squad.
But before going, he had said to the soldiers, "My friends, I'll divide five thousand dollars among you if we save the prisoners."
It was then a little past noon.
Aouda went into the small waiting-room and sat there alone, thinking.
And there she waited alone, thinking of the simple and noble generosity and the quiet courage of Phileas Fogg.
He had given up his fortune, and was now risking his life, all without hesitation, from duty, in silence.
Fix didn't have the same thoughts, and could hardly hide his worry.
He walked quickly up and down the platform, but soon calmed his outside look.
He now saw the mistake he had made in letting Fogg go alone.
What! This man, whom he had just followed around the world, was allowed to separate from him now?
He began to blame himself, and as if he were a police director, gave himself a sharp lesson for his carelessness.
"I have been an idiot!"
He thought, "and this man will see it. He has gone, and won't come back."
"But how can I, Fix, with a warrant for his arrest in my pocket, be so taken by him? I'm a fool"!
So thought the detective, while the hours passed too slowly.
He didn't know what to do.
Sometimes he wanted to tell Aouda everything, but he couldn't doubt how she'd take his confession, What should he do?
He thought of following Fogg across the wide white plains, it didn't seem impossible that he might catch him.
Footsteps were easy to see on the snow.
But soon, under a new sheet, every print would be gone.
Fix grew discouraged, he felt a strong wish to give up the chase.
He could now leave Fort Kearney station and go home in peace.
Around two in the afternoon, while it was snowing hard, long whistles were heard from the east.
A great shadow, with a wild light before it, slowly came nearer, looking larger through the mist that gave it a strange look.
No train was expected from the east, and there hadn't been time for the help asked for by telegraph to arrive.
The train from Omaha to San Francisco was due the next day, the mystery was soon explained.
The locomotive that was slowly coming with loud whistles had been cut off from the train.
It had run on with great speed, carrying the unconscious engineer and stoker.
It had run several miles when, the fire getting low for lack of fuel, the steam slowed.
It had finally stopped an hour later, about twenty miles beyond Fort Kearney.
Neither the engineer nor the stoker was dead, and after lying fainted for some time, they had come to themselves.
The train then stopped, the engineer, when he found himself in the desert and the locomotive without cars, understood what had happened.
He couldn't imagine how the locomotive had been separated from the train.
But he didn't doubt that the train left behind was in trouble.
He didn't hesitate about what to do.
It would be safer to go on to Omaha, because returning to the train might be dangerous if Indians still looted it.
Nevertheless, he began to rebuild the fire in the engine.
The pressure rose again, and the locomotive came back, running backwards to Fort Kearney.
This was the train that was whistling in the mist.
The travelers were glad to see the locomotive take its place at the head of the train.
They could now continue the journey that had been so badly stopped.
Aouda, on seeing the locomotive arrive, hurried out of the station and asked the conductor, "Are you going to start?"
"At once, madam."
"But the prisoners, our unhappy fellow travelers, "
"I can't interrupt the trip," answered the conductor.
"We're already three hours behind time."
"And when will another train pass here from San Francisco?"
"Tomorrow evening, madam."
"Tomorrow evening! But then it'll be too late! We must wait, "
"It's impossible," replied the conductor.
"If you want to go, get in."
"I won't go," said Aouda.
Fix had heard this talk and stood there feeling upset and afraid.
A little while before, when there was no chance of going on, he had decided to leave Fort Kearney.
But now that the train was there ready to start.
He only had to take his seat, an irresistible force held him back.
The station platform felt like fire to his feet, and he couldn't move.
The fight in his mind began again.
Anger and failure weighed on him.
He wanted to keep going to the end.
Meanwhile the passengers and some of the wounded, among them Colonel Proctor whose wounds were serious, had taken their places in the train.
The hot boiler made a loud sound, and steam came out of the pipes.
The engineer whistled, the train started, and soon it disappeared, its white smoke mixing with the falling snow.
The detective had stayed behind on the cold platform, watching the train leave.
Several hours passed, the weather was sad and it was very cold.
Fix sat still on a bench in the station, he might have looked asleep.
Aouda, despite the storm, kept coming out of the waiting-room and going to the end of the platform to look through the snow.
She seemed to try to see past the mist that made the horizon small and to hear, if possible, some welcome sound.
She saw and heard nothing, then she'd return, chilled, to go out again after a few moments, but always in vain.
Evening came, and the little band hadn't returned.
Where could they be? Had they found the Indians and were they fighting them, or were they still lost in the mist?
The commander of the fort was worried, though he tried to hide his fear.
As night came, the snow fell less then, but it became very cold.
Complete silence rested on the plains.
No bird flight or passing beast broke the perfect calm.
All night Aouda, full of sad fears and with a heart heavy with pain, wandered near the edge of the plains.
Her mind took her far away and showed her many dangers.
What she suffered during those long hours can't be described.
Fix stayed in the same place but didn't sleep.
Once a man came up and spoke to him, and the detective only shook his head.
So the night passed, At dawn the half-hidden disc of the sun rose above a misty line.
But it was now possible to see objects two miles off.
Phileas Fogg and the squad had gone southward.
In the south all was still empty, it was then seven o'clock.
The captain, who was truly afraid, didn't know what to do.
Should he send another group to rescue the first?
Should he risk more men with so little chance of saving those already lost?
His hesitation didn't last long, Calling one of his lieutenants, he was about to order a search, when gunshots were heard.
Was it a signal to call the men back from the fort?
The soldiers rushed out of the fort, and half a mile away they saw a little band returning in good order.
Mr. Fogg was walking at their head, and just behind him were Passepartout and the other two travelers, rescued from the Sioux.
They had met and fought the Indians ten miles south of Fort Kearney.
Shortly before the detachment arrived, Passepartout and his companions had begun to struggle with their captors.
The Frenchman had knocked down three of them with his fists, when his master and the soldiers came quickly to help.
All were welcomed with joyful cries.
Phileas Fogg gave the reward he had promised to the soldiers, while Passepartout, not without reason, muttered to himself,
"It must certainly be confessed that I cost my master dear!"
Fix, without saying a word, looked at Mr. Fogg.
And it would have been hard to tell the thoughts that fought inside him.
As for Aouda, she took her protector's hand and held it in her own, too moved to speak.
Meanwhile Passepartout was looking for the train.
He thought it would be there ready to start for Omaha, and he hoped that the lost time might be made up.
"The train! the train!" cried he.
"Gone," replied Fix.
"And when does the next train pass here?" said Phileas Fogg.
"Not till this evening."
"Ah!" returned the impassible gentleman quietly.