Adventure stories; Voyages around the world -- Fiction
And they passed over! It was like a flash. No one saw the bridge. The
train leaped, so to speak, from one bank to the other, and the engineer
could not stop it until it had gone five miles beyond the station. But
scarcely had the train passed the river, when the bridge, completely
ruined, fell with a crash into the rapids of Medicine Bow.
CHAPTER XXIX.
IN WHICH CERTAIN INCIDENTS ARE NARRATED WHICH ARE ONLY TO BE MET WITH
ON AMERICAN RAILROADS
The train pursued its course, that evening, without interruption,
passing Fort Saunders, crossing Cheyne Pass, and reaching Evans Pass.
The road here attained the highest elevation of the journey, eight
thousand and ninety-two feet above the level of the sea. The travellers
had now only to descend to the Atlantic by limitless plains, levelled
by nature. A branch of the “grand trunk” led off southward to Denver,
the capital of Colorado. The country round about is rich in gold and
silver, and more than fifty thousand inhabitants are already settled
there.
Thirteen hundred and eighty-two miles had been passed over from San
Francisco, in three days and three nights; four days and nights more
would probably bring them to New York. Phileas Fogg was not as yet
behind-hand.
During the night Camp Walbach was passed on the left; Lodge Pole Creek
ran parallel with the road, marking the boundary between the
territories of Wyoming and Colorado. They entered Nebraska at eleven,
passed near Sedgwick, and touched at Julesburg, on the southern branch
of the Platte River.
It was here that the Union Pacific Railroad was inaugurated on the 23rd
of October, 1867, by the chief engineer, General Dodge. Two powerful
locomotives, carrying nine cars of invited guests, amongst whom was
Thomas C. Durant, vice-president of the road, stopped at this point;
cheers were given, the Sioux and Pawnees performed an imitation Indian
battle, fireworks were let off, and the first number of the _Railway
Pioneer_ was printed by a press brought on the train. Thus was
celebrated the inauguration of this great railroad, a mighty instrument
of progress and civilisation, thrown across the desert, and destined to
link together cities and towns which do not yet exist. The whistle of
the locomotive, more powerful than Amphion’s lyre, was about to bid
them rise from American soil.
Fort McPherson was left behind at eight in the morning, and three
hundred and fifty-seven miles had yet to be traversed before reaching
Omaha. The road followed the capricious windings of the southern branch
of the Platte River, on its left bank. At nine the train stopped at the
important town of North Platte, built between the two arms of the
river, which rejoin each other around it and form a single artery, a
large tributary, whose waters empty into the Missouri a little above
Omaha.
The one hundred and first meridian was passed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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