we may hope that chance will not bring him face to face with this
confounded American. We must, if possible, prevent his stirring out of it."

The conversation dropped. Mr. Fogg had just woke up,
and was looking out of the window. Soon after Passepartout,
without being heard by his master or Aouda, whispered to the detective,
"Would you really fight for him?"

"I would do anything," replied Fix, in a tone which betrayed determined will,
"to get him back living to Europe!"

Passepartout felt something like a shudder shoot through his frame,
but his confidence in his master remained unbroken.

Was there any means of detaining Mr. Fogg in the car, to avoid a meeting
between him and the colonel? It ought not to be a difficult task,
since that gentleman was naturally sedentary and little curious.
The detective, at least, seemed to have found a way; for, after a few moments,
he said to Mr. Fogg, "These are long and slow hours, sir, that we are passing
on the railway."

"Yes," replied Mr. Fogg; "but they pass."

"You were in the habit of playing whist," resumed Fix, "on the steamers."

"Yes; but it would be difficult to do so here. I have neither cards
nor partners."

"Oh, but we can easily buy some cards, for they are sold
on all the American trains. And as for partners, if madam plays--"

"Certainly, sir," Aouda quickly replied; "I understand whist.
It is part of an English education."

"I myself have some pretensions to playing a good game.
Well, here are three of us, and a dummy--"

"As you please, sir," replied Phileas Fogg, heartily glad
to resume his favourite pastime even on the railway.

Passepartout was dispatched in search of the steward,
and soon returned with two packs of cards, some pins,
counters, and a shelf covered with cloth.

The game commenced. Aouda understood whist sufficiently well,
and even received some compliments on her playing from Mr. Fogg.
As for the detective, he was simply an adept, and worthy of being
matched against his present opponent.

"Now," thought Passepartout, "we've got him. He won't budge."

At eleven in the morning the train had reached the dividing ridge of the waters
at Bridger Pass, seven thousand five hundred and twenty-four feet above
the level of the sea, one of the highest points attained by the track
in crossing the Rocky Mountains. After going about two hundred miles,
the travellers at last found themselves on one of those vast plains
which extend to the Atlantic, and which nature has made so propitious
for laying the iron road.

On the declivity of the Atlantic basin the first streams,
branches of the North Platte River, already appeared.
The whole northern and eastern horizon was bounded by the immense
semi-circular curtain which is formed by the southern portion
of the Rocky Mountains, the highest being Laramie Peak.
Between this and the railway extended vast plains,
plentifully irrigated. On the right rose the lower spurs
of the mountainous mass which extends southward to the sources
of the Arkansas River, one of the great tributaries of the Missouri.

At half-past twelve the travellers caught sight for an instant of Fort Halleck,
which commands that section; and in a few more hours the Rocky Mountains
were crossed. There was reason to hope, then, that no accident would mark
the journey through this difficult country. The snow had ceased falling,
and the air became crisp and cold. Large birds, frightened by the locomotive,
rose and flew off in the distance. No wild beast appeared on the plain.
It was a desert in its vast nakedness.

After a comfortable breakfast, served in the car, Mr. Fogg and his partners had
just resumed whist, when a violent whistling was heard, and the train stopped.
Passepartout put his head out of the door, but saw nothing to cause the delay;
no station was in view.

Aouda and Fix feared that Mr. Fogg might take it into his head to get out;
but that gentleman contented himself with saying to his servant,
"See what is the matter."

Passepartout rushed out of the car. Thirty or forty passengers
had already descended, amongst them Colonel Stamp Proctor.

The train had stopped before a red signal which blocked the way.
The engineer and conductor were talking excitedly with a signal-man,
whom the station-master at Medicine Bow, the next stopping place,
had sent on before. The passengers drew around and took part
in the discussion, in which Colonel Proctor, with his insolent manner,
was conspicuous.

Passepartout, joining the group, heard the signal-man say,
"No! you can't pass. The bridge at Medicine Bow is shaky,
and would not bear the weight of the train."



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