In which Phileas Fogg simply does his Duty.
Three of the travellers, including Passe-partout, had disappeared, but
it was impossible to say whether they had been killed or taken
prisoners.
Several were wounded, but none mortally. Colonel Proctor was one of
the most severely hurt; he had fought bravely, and was carried with
the other wounded into the station, where he was attended to as well
as the circumstances admitted of.
Mrs. Aouda was safe, and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the midst of
the fight, had not received a scratch. Fix had a flesh-wound in the
arm, but Passe-partout was missing, and Aouda could not help weeping.
Meanwhile the travellers all got out of the train, the wheels of which
were covered with blood and jagged pieces of flesh. Red tracks were
visible on the whitened plain. The Indians were disappearing in the
south along the Republican River.
Mr. Fogg was standing motionless with folded arms, and Aouda looked at
him without speaking, but he understood her; he had to make up his
mind. If his servant were a prisoner, ought he not to rescue him from
the Indians?
"I will find him, living or dead," he said simply to Aouda.
"Oh Mr. Fogg!" exclaimed the young lady, seizing his hands, upon which
her tears fell fast.
"Living," added Mr. Fogg, "if we lose no time."
By this resolution Phileas Fogg sacrificed everything, he pronounced
his own ruin. A delay of even one day would lose the steamer at New
York and his wager. But he thought it was his duty, and did not
hesitate.
The commandant of Fort Kearney was present; his company were under
arms to repel any further attack.
"Sir," said Mr. Fogg to him, "three passengers are missing."
"Dead?" asked the captain.
"Dead or prisoners," replied Fogg; "I must find out which. Is it your
intention to pursue the Sioux?"
"That would be a very serious thing," replied the captain. "The
Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot leave the fort
undefended."
"Sir," replied Fogg, "the lives of three men are in question."
"No doubt; but can I risk fifty to save three?"
"I do not know if you can, sir; but I know you ought."
"Sir," replied the captain, "no one here is fit to teach me my duty."
"Very well," said Fogg coldly, "I will go alone."
"You, sir!" exclaimed Fix, who now approached. "Do you mean to go
alone in pursuit of the Indians?"
"Do you wish me to leave that unfortunate man to perish to whom
everyone here owes his life? I shall certainly go."
"No, sir, you shall not go alone," said the captain, who was moved in
spite of himself. "You are a brave fellow. Now, then, thirty
volunteers," he added, turning to the troops.
The whole company advanced at once. The captain had only to pick his
men. Thirty were chosen, and a steady old non-commissioned officer put
in command.
"Thanks, captain," said Mr. Fogg.
"You will let me go with you?" said Fix.
"You can do as you please, sir, but if you wish to do me a service you
will remain with Mrs. Aouda. Should anything happen to me--"
The detective turned very pale. Should he separate from the man he had
followed so persistently? Should he leave him to wander thus in the
prairie? Fix gazed attentively at Mr. Fogg, and notwithstanding his
suspicions and the struggle going on within him, his eyes fell before
that frank look.
"I will remain," he said.
In a few moments Mr. Fogg, having shaken hands with the young lady and
confided his precious bag to her care, departed with the soldiers. But
before marching away he said to his escort, "My friends, I will divide
a thousand pounds amongst you if we save the prisoners."
It was then a little past midday.
Mrs. Aouda retired to a waiting-room, and there she remained thinking
of the generosity and courage of Phileas Fogg, who had sacrificed his
fortune and was now risking his life for what he believed to be his
duty. In her eyes Mr. Fogg was a hero.
But Fix's thoughts were very different; he could scarcely conceal his
agitation; he walked up and down the station and soon recovered
himself. Now that Fogg had gone, Fix perceived how foolish he had been
to let him go. He began to accuse himself in pretty round terms, as if
he had been his own inspector.
"What a fool I have been," he thought. "The fellow has gone and won't
come back. How is it that I, actually with a warrant for his arrest in
my pocket, could have been so played upon? Well, I am an ass!"
Thus reasoned the detective as he walked up and down the platform. He
did not know what to do. Sometimes he thought he would tell Aouda
everything, but he knew how she would receive his confidence. He then
thought of following Fogg over the prairie, and he thought it not
impossible he might find him, as the footsteps of the escort would be
imprinted in the snow. But after a further fall they would soon be
obliterated.
Fix became discouraged, and felt inclined to give up the whole thing.
He had now an opportunity to leave Kearney Station and pursue his way
homewards. In fact about two o'clock, in the midst of a snowstorm,
long whistles were heard from eastward; a great shadow was slowly
advancing; no train was expected from that direction. The assistance
telegraphed for could not possibly arrive so soon, and the train to
San Francisco was not due till the next day. The mystery was soon
explained.
It was the runaway locomotive that was approaching. After it had left
the train, it had run a long distance till the fire got low and the
steam went down. Then it stopped, still bearing the half-conscious
engine-driver and firemen. When they found themselves alone in the
prairie they understood what had happened, and they had no doubt they
would find the train somewhere on the track, helpless. The
engine-driver did not hesitate. To go on to Omaha would be only
prudent, while to return would be dangerous. He nevertheless built up
the fire and ran back to Fort Kearney, whistling through the mist as
he went.
The travellers were all delighted to see the engine attached to the
train once more. They could now resume their journey, so fatally
interrupted.
When the engine was coupled on, Mrs. Aouda asked the guard if he were
really going to start?
"Right away, ma'am," he replied.
"But the prisoners, our unfortunate companions--"
"I cannot interrupt the service," he replied; "we are three hours late
already."
"And when will the next train arrive from San Francisco?"
"To-morrow evening."
"That will be too late. It must wait."
"That is impossible. If you wish to go on, please get in."
"I will not go," replied the lady.
Fix heard this conversation. A short time before, when there was no
chance of his going on, he had decided to leave Kearney, and now that
it was necessary for him to take his place, something seemed to detain
him. The conflict in his mind waxed fiercer, he wished to fight it
out.
Meantime the passengers, some of them wounded, including Colonel
Proctor, took their places in the train, which started immediately and
soon disappeared, the steam mingling with the falling snow.
Fix had remained behind.
Some hours passed away. The weather was wretched and very cold. Fix
remained seated, apparently asleep, on a bench. Aouda, notwithstanding
the tempest, continually came out of the room set apart for her, and
walking to the extremity of the platform, attempted to penetrate the
thick falling snow, as she listened intently for some sound of the
return of the escort. But she saw and heard nothing, and would return
chilled to the bone, only to sally forth once more in vain.
Night fell, the troops had not returned; the commandant began to feel
anxious, though he did not betray his anxiety. The snow fell less
thickly now, but the cold was intense; absolute silence reigned
around. All night Mrs. Aouda kept wandering about, filled with the
most dismal forebodings--her imagination suggested a thousand dangers,
and her anxiety was terrible.
Fix remained immovable, but he did not sleep either. A man approached
him once and spoke to him, but a shake of the head was the only reply
he received.
Thus passed the night. At sunrise it was possible to distinguish
objects at the distance of two miles; but towards the south, in which
direction the party had gone, there was no sign. It was then seven
o'clock.
The captain, who was now seriously alarmed, did not know what to do.
Should he send a second detachment after the first, and sacrifice more
men on the slender chance of saving those who had already gone? But he
did not hesitate long, and was on the point of ordering a
reconnaissance to be made, when the sound of firing was heard. The
soldiers rushed out of the fort and perceived the little troop
returning in good order.
Mr. Fogg was marching at their head. Close to him were Passe-partout
and the other two passengers, rescued from the hands of the Sioux.
They had encountered the Indians ten miles from Kearney. Just before
they arrived Passe-partout and his companions had turned upon their
captors, three of whom the Frenchman had knocked down with his fists,
when his master and the escort came to his assistance.
The party was welcomed most joyously.
Phileas Fogg distributed the promised reward to the soldiers, while
Passe-partout muttered, and not without reason, "I must confess that I
cost my master pretty dearly."
Fix looked at Mr. Fogg without speaking, and it would have been
difficult to analyse his thoughts at that moment. Mrs. Aouda, whose
feelings were too deep for expression, took Mr. Fogg's hands in hers
and pressed them without speaking.
Ever since his return Passe-partout had been looking for the train; he
hoped to find it there ready to start for Omaha, and trusted that the
lost time might be regained.
"But where is the train?" he exclaimed.
"Gone," replied Fix.
"When is the next train due here?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Not until this evening."
"Ah!" replied the impassible gentleman simply.