At eight o'clock a steward entered the car and announced that bedtime had arrived. In a few minutes the car was transformed into a dormitory. The backs of the seats were thrown back, bedsteads carefully packed were rolled out by an ingenious system, berths were suddenly improvised, and each traveler soon had at his disposition a comfortable bed, protected from curious eyes by thick curtains. The sheets were clean and the pillows soft. It only remained to go to bed and sleep—which everybody did—while the train sped on across the State of California.
The country between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very hilly. The Central Pacific, taking Sacramento for its starting point, extends eastward to meet the road from Omaha. The line from San Francisco to Sacramento runs in a northeasterly direction, along the American River, which empties into San Pablo Bay. The one hundred and twenty miles between these cities were accomplished in six hours. Towards midnight, while fast asleep, the travelers passed through Sacramento; so that they saw nothing of that important place, the seat of the state government, with its fine quays, its broad streets, its noble hotels, squares and churches.
The train, on leaving Sacramento, and passing the junction, Roclin, Auburn and Colfax, entered the range of the Sierra Nevada. 'Cisco was reached at seven in the morning; and an hour later the dormitory was transformed into an ordinary car, and the travelers could observe the picturesque beauties of the mountain region through which they were steaming. The railway track wound in and out among the passes, now approaching the mountainsides, now suspended over precipices, avoiding abrupt angles by bold curves, plunging into narrow defiles, which seemed to have no outlet. The locomotive, its great funnel emitting a weird light, with its sharp bell, and its cowcatcher extended like a spur, mingled its shrieks and bellowings with the noise of torrents and cascades, and twined its smoke among the branches of the gigantic pines.
There were few or no bridges or tunnels on the route. The railway turned around the sides of the mountains, and did not attempt to violate nature by taking the shortest cut from one point to another.
The train entered the State of Nevada through the Carson Valley about nine o'clock, going always northeasterly. At midday it reached Reno where there was a delay of twenty minutes for breakfast.
From this point the road, running along Humboldt River, passed northward for several miles by its banks. Then it turned eastward, and kept by the river until it reached the Humboldt Range, nearly at the extreme eastern limit of Nevada.
After breakfast, Mr. Fogg and his companions resumed their places in the car, and observed the varied landscape which unfolded as they passed along: the vast prairies, the mountains lining the horizon, and the creeks, with their frothy, foaming streams. Sometimes a great herd of buffaloes, massing together in the distance, seemed like a movable dam. These innumerable multitudes of beasts often form an insurmountable obstacle to the passage of the trains. Thousands of them have been seen passing over the track for hours in compact ranks. The locomotive is then forced to stop and wait till the road is once more clear.
This happened to the train in which Mr. Fogg was traveling. About twelve o'clock a troop of ten or twelve thousand head of buffalo covered the track. The locomotive, slackening its speed, tried to clear the way with its cowcatcher; but the mass of animals was too great. The buffaloes marched along with a tranquil gait, uttering now and then deafening bellowings. There was no use of interrupting them, for, having taken a particular direction, nothing can moderate and change their course. It is a torrent of living flesh which no dam could contain.
The travelers gazed on this curious spectacle from the platforms. But Phileas Fogg, who had the most reason of all to be in a hurry, remained in his seat, and waited philosophically until it should please the buffaloes to get out of the way.
Passepartout was furious at the delay, and longed to discharge his arsenal of revolvers upon them.