prompt:
Chapter: During the night of the 5th of December, the train ran south-easterly
for about fifty miles; then rose an equal distance in a north-easterly
direction, towards the Great Salt Lake.

Passepartout, about nine o'clock, went out upon the platform to take
the air.  The weather was cold, the heavens grey, but it was not
snowing.  The sun's disc, enlarged by the mist, seemed an enormous ring
of gold, and Passepartout was amusing himself by calculating its value
in pounds sterling, when he was diverted from this interesting study by
a strange-looking personage who made his appearance on the platform.

This personage, who had taken the train at Elko, was tall and dark,
with black moustache, black stockings, a black silk hat, a black
waistcoat, black trousers, a white cravat, and dogskin gloves.  He
might have been taken for a clergyman.  He went from one end of the
train to the other, and affixed to the door of each car a notice
written in manuscript.

Passepartout approached and read one of these notices, which stated
that Elder William Hitch, Mormon missionary, taking advantage of his
presence on train No. 48, would deliver a lecture on Mormonism in car
No. 117, from eleven to twelve o'clock; and that he invited all who
were desirous of being instructed concerning the mysteries of the
religion of the "Latter Day Saints" to attend.

"I'll go," said Passepartout to himself.  He knew nothing of Mormonism
except the custom of polygamy, which is its foundation.

The news quickly spread through the train, which contained about one
hundred passengers, thirty of whom, at most, attracted by the notice,
ensconced themselves in car No. 117.  Passepartout took one of the
front seats.  Neither Mr. Fogg nor Fix cared to attend.

At the appointed hour Elder William Hitch rose, and, in an irritated
voice, as if he had already been contradicted, said, "I tell you that
Joe Smith is a martyr, that his brother Hiram is a martyr, and that the
persecutions of the United States Government against the prophets will
also make a martyr of Brigham Young.  Who dares to say the contrary?"

No one ventured to gainsay the missionary, whose excited tone
contrasted curiously with his naturally calm visage.  No doubt his
anger arose from the hardships to which the Mormons were actually
subjected.  The government had just succeeded, with some difficulty, in
reducing these independent fanatics to its rule.  It had made itself
master of Utah, and subjected that territory to the laws of the Union,
after imprisoning Brigham Young on a charge of rebellion and polygamy.
The disciples of the prophet had since redoubled their efforts, and
resisted, by words at least, the authority of Congress.  Elder Hitch,
as is seen, was trying to make proselytes on the very railway trains.

Then, emphasising his words with his loud voice and frequent gestures,
he related the history of the Mormons from Biblical times: how that, in
Israel, a Mormon prophet of the tribe of Joseph published the annals of
the new religion, and bequeathed them to his son Mormon; how, many
centuries later, a translation of this precious book, which was written
in Egyptian, was made by Joseph Smith, junior, a Vermont farmer, who
revealed himself as a mystical prophet in 1825; and how, in short, the
celestial messenger appeared to him in an illuminated forest, and gave
him the annals of the Lord.

Several of the audience, not being much interested in the missionary's
narrative, here left the car; but Elder Hitch, continuing his lecture,
related how Smith, junior, with his father, two brothers, and a few
disciples, founded the church of the "Latter Day Saints," which,
adopted not only in America, but in England, Norway and Sweden, and
Germany, counts many artisans, as well as men engaged in the liberal
professions, among its members; how a colony was established in Ohio, a
temple erected there at a cost of two hundred thousand dollars, and a
town built at Kirkland; how Smith became an enterprising banker, and
received from a simple mummy showman a papyrus scroll written by
Abraham and several famous Egyptians.

The Elder's story became somewhat wearisome, and his audience grew
gradually less, until it was reduced to twenty passengers.  But this
did not disconcert the enthusiast, who proceeded with the story of
Joseph Smith's bankruptcy in 1837, and how his ruined creditors gave
him a coat of tar and feathers; his reappearance some years afterwards,
more honourable and honoured than ever, at Independence, Missouri, the
chief of a flourishing colony of three thousand disciples, and his
pursuit thence by outraged Gentiles, and retirement into the Far West.

Ten hearers only were now left, among them honest Passepartout, who was
listening with all his ears.  Thus he learned that, after long
persecutions, Smith reappeared in Illinois, and in 1839 founded a
community at Nauvoo, on the Mississippi, numbering twenty-five thousand
souls, of which he became mayor, chief justice, and general-in-chief;
that he announced himself, in 1843, as a candidate for the Presidency
of the United States; and that finally, being drawn into ambuscade at
Carthage, he was thrown into prison, and assassinated by a band of men
disguised in masks.

Passepartout was now the only person left in the car, and the Elder,
looking him full in the face, reminded him that, two years after the
assassination of Joseph Smith, the inspired prophet, Brigham Young, his
successor, left Nauvoo for the banks of the Great Salt Lake, where, in
the midst of that fertile region, directly on the route of the
emigrants who crossed Utah on their way to California, the new colony,
thanks to the polygamy practised by the Mormons, had flourished beyond
expectations.

"And this," added Elder William Hitch, "this is why the jealousy of
Congress has been aroused against us!  Why have the soldiers of the
Union invaded the soil of Utah?  Why has Brigham Young, our chief, been
imprisoned, in contempt of all justice?  Shall we yield to force?
Never!  Driven from Vermont, driven from Illinois, driven from Ohio,
driven from Missouri, driven from Utah, we shall yet find some
independent territory on which to plant our tents.  And you, my
brother," continued the Elder, fixing his angry eyes upon his single
auditor, "will you not plant yours there, too, under the shadow of our
flag?"

"No!" replied Passepartout courageously, in his turn retiring from the
car, and leaving the Elder to preach to vacancy.

During the lecture the train had been making good progress, and towards
half-past twelve it reached the northwest border of the Great Salt
Lake.  Thence the passengers could observe the vast extent of this
interior sea, which is also called the Dead Sea, and into which flows
an American Jordan.  It is a picturesque expanse, framed in lofty crags
in large strata, encrusted with white salt--a superb sheet of water,
which was formerly of larger extent than now, its shores having
encroached with the lapse of time, and thus at once reduced its breadth
and increased its depth.

The Salt Lake, seventy miles long and thirty-five wide, is situated
three miles eight hundred feet above the sea.  Quite different from
Lake Asphaltite, whose depression is twelve hundred feet below the sea,
it contains considerable salt, and one quarter of the weight of its
water is solid matter, its specific weight being 1,170, and, after
being distilled, 1,000.  Fishes are, of course, unable to live in it,
and those which descend through the Jordan, the Weber, and other
streams soon perish.

The country around the lake was well cultivated, for the Mormons are
mostly farmers; while ranches and pens for domesticated animals, fields
of wheat, corn, and other cereals, luxuriant prairies, hedges of wild
rose, clumps of acacias and milk-wort, would have been seen six months
later.  Now the ground was covered with a thin powdering of snow.

The train reached Ogden at two o'clock, where it rested for six hours,
Mr. Fogg and his party had time to pay a visit to Salt Lake City,
connected with Ogden by a branch road; and they spent two hours in this
strikingly American town, built on the pattern of other cities of the
Union, like a checker-board, "with the sombre sadness of right-angles,"
as Victor Hugo expresses it.  The founder of the City of the Saints
could not escape from the taste for symmetry which distinguishes the
Anglo-Saxons.  In this strange country, where the people are certainly
not up to the level of their institutions, everything is done
"squarely"--cities, houses, and follies.

The travellers, then, were promenading, at three o'clock, about the
streets of the town built between the banks of the Jordan and the spurs
of the Wahsatch Range.  They saw few or no churches, but the prophet's
mansion, the court-house, and the arsenal, blue-brick houses with
verandas and porches, surrounded by gardens bordered with acacias,
palms, and locusts.  A clay and pebble wall, built in 1853, surrounded
the town; and in the principal street were the market and several
hotels adorned with pavilions.  The place did not seem thickly
populated.  The streets were almost deserted, except in the vicinity of
the temple, which they only reached after having traversed several
quarters surrounded by palisades.  There were many women, which was
easily accounted for by the "peculiar institution" of the Mormons; but
it must not be supposed that all the Mormons are polygamists.  They are
free to marry or not, as they please; but it is worth noting that it is
mainly the female citizens of Utah who are anxious to marry, as,
according to the Mormon religion, maiden ladies are not admitted to the
possession of its highest joys.  These poor creatures seemed to be
neither well off nor happy.  Some--the more well-to-do, no doubt--wore
short, open, black silk dresses, under a hood or modest shawl; others
were habited in Indian fashion.

Passepartout could not behold without a certain fright these women,
charged, in groups, with conferring happiness on a single Mormon.  His
common sense pitied, above all, the husband.  It seemed to him a
terrible thing to have to guide so many wives at once across the
vicissitudes of life, and to conduct them, as it were, in a body to the
Mormon paradise with the prospect of seeing them in the company of the
glorious Smith, who doubtless was the chief ornament of that delightful
place, to all eternity.  He felt decidedly repelled from such a
vocation, and he imagined--perhaps he was mistaken--that the fair ones
of Salt Lake City cast rather alarming glances on his person.  Happily,
his stay there was but brief.  At four the party found themselves again
at the station, took their places in the train, and the whistle sounded
for starting.  Just at the moment, however, that the locomotive wheels
began to move, cries of "Stop! stop!" were heard.

Trains, like time and tide, stop for no one.  The gentleman who uttered
the cries was evidently a belated Mormon.  He was breathless with
running.  Happily for him, the station had neither gates nor barriers.
He rushed along the track, jumped on the rear platform of the train,
and fell, exhausted, into one of the seats.

Passepartout, who had been anxiously watching this amateur gymnast,
approached him with lively interest, and learned that he had taken
flight after an unpleasant domestic scene.

When the Mormon had recovered his breath, Passepartout ventured to ask
him politely how many wives he had; for, from the manner in which he
had decamped, it might be thought that he had twenty at least.

"One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms heavenward--"one, and
that was enough!"

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The train continues on its path. Passepartout steps down at a station, when he sees an interesting man-tall, very dark, who looked like a parson. This man goes from one part of the train to another and announces that he will give a lecture on Mormonism in car No. 117. Thirty people are drawn by the attraction of a lecture, including Passepartout. The Mormon missionary-Elder William Hitch turns out to be a fanatic and one by one, people start leaving the lecture room. Passepartout is the last to escape the tedious preaching. During the lecture, the train had made rapid progress and the landscape is outlined. The train stops at Ogden for a few hours and so the travelers alight. The town is described through the visiting travelers' eye and the voyagers do not feel sorry about leaving this City of Saints. Just as the train starts, a breathless Mormon man runs up and he is late because of a domestic fight. Passepartout asks him how many wives he has and they learn that he has only one wife unlike other Mormons.


prompt:
Chapter: The train, on leaving Great Salt Lake at Ogden, passed northward for an
hour as far as Weber River, having completed nearly nine hundred miles
from San Francisco.  From this point it took an easterly direction
towards the jagged Wahsatch Mountains.  It was in the section included
between this range and the Rocky Mountains that the American engineers
found the most formidable difficulties in laying the road, and that the
government granted a subsidy of forty-eight thousand dollars per mile,
instead of sixteen thousand allowed for the work done on the plains.
But the engineers, instead of violating nature, avoided its
difficulties by winding around, instead of penetrating the rocks.  One
tunnel only, fourteen thousand feet in length, was pierced in order to
arrive at the great basin.

The track up to this time had reached its highest elevation at the
Great Salt Lake.  From this point it described a long curve, descending
towards Bitter Creek Valley, to rise again to the dividing ridge of the
waters between the Atlantic and the Pacific.  There were many creeks in
this mountainous region, and it was necessary to cross Muddy Creek,
Green Creek, and others, upon culverts.

Passepartout grew more and more impatient as they went on, while Fix
longed to get out of this difficult region, and was more anxious than
Phileas Fogg himself to be beyond the danger of delays and accidents,
and set foot on English soil.

At ten o'clock at night the train stopped at Fort Bridger station, and
twenty minutes later entered Wyoming Territory, following the valley of
Bitter Creek throughout.  The next day, 7th December, they stopped for
a quarter of an hour at Green River station.  Snow had fallen
abundantly during the night, but, being mixed with rain, it had half
melted, and did not interrupt their progress.  The bad weather,
however, annoyed Passepartout; for the accumulation of snow, by
blocking the wheels of the cars, would certainly have been fatal to Mr.
Fogg's tour.

"What an idea!" he said to himself.  "Why did my master make this
journey in winter?  Couldn't he have waited for the good season to
increase his chances?"

While the worthy Frenchman was absorbed in the state of the sky and the
depression of the temperature, Aouda was experiencing fears from a
totally different cause.

Several passengers had got off at Green River, and were walking up and
down the platforms; and among these Aouda recognised Colonel Stamp
Proctor, the same who had so grossly insulted Phileas Fogg at the San
Francisco meeting.  Not wishing to be recognised, the young woman drew
back from the window, feeling much alarm at her discovery.  She was
attached to the man who, however coldly, gave her daily evidences of
the most absolute devotion.  She did not comprehend, perhaps, the depth
of the sentiment with which her protector inspired her, which she
called gratitude, but which, though she was unconscious of it, was
really more than that.  Her heart sank within her when she recognised
the man whom Mr. Fogg desired, sooner or later, to call to account for
his conduct.  Chance alone, it was clear, had brought Colonel Proctor
on this train; but there he was, and it was necessary, at all hazards,
that Phileas Fogg should not perceive his adversary.

Aouda seized a moment when Mr. Fogg was asleep to tell Fix and
Passepartout whom she had seen.

"That Proctor on this train!" cried Fix.  "Well, reassure yourself,
madam; before he settles with Mr. Fogg; he has got to deal with me!  It
seems to me that I was the more insulted of the two."

"And, besides," added Passepartout, "I'll take charge of him, colonel
as he is."

"Mr. Fix," resumed Aouda, "Mr. Fogg will allow no one to avenge him.
He said that he would come back to America to find this man.  Should he
perceive Colonel Proctor, we could not prevent a collision which might
have terrible results.  He must not see him."

"You are right, madam," replied Fix; "a meeting between them might ruin
all.  Whether he were victorious or beaten, Mr. Fogg would be delayed,
and--"

"And," added Passepartout, "that would play the game of the gentlemen
of the Reform Club.  In four days we shall be in New York.  Well, if my
master does not leave this car during those four days, 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."

This was a suspension-bridge thrown over some rapids, about a mile from
the place where they now were.  According to the signal-man, it was in
a ruinous condition, several of the iron wires being broken; and it was
impossible to risk the passage.  He did not in any way exaggerate the
condition of the bridge.  It may be taken for granted that, rash as the
Americans usually are, when they are prudent there is good reason for
it.

Passepartout, not daring to apprise his master of what he heard,
listened with set teeth, immovable as a statue.

"Hum!" cried Colonel Proctor; "but we are not going to stay here, I
imagine, and take root in the snow?"

"Colonel," replied the conductor, "we have telegraphed to Omaha for a
train, but it is not likely that it will reach Medicine Bow in less
than six hours."

"Six hours!" cried Passepartout.

"Certainly," returned the conductor, "besides, it will take us as long
as that to reach Medicine Bow on foot."

"But it is only a mile from here," said one of the passengers.

"Yes, but it's on the other side of the river."

"And can't we cross that in a boat?" asked the colonel.

"That's impossible.  The creek is swelled by the rains.  It is a rapid,
and we shall have to make a circuit of ten miles to the north to find a
ford."

The colonel launched a volley of oaths, denouncing the railway company
and the conductor; and Passepartout, who was furious, was not
disinclined to make common cause with him.  Here was an obstacle,
indeed, which all his master's banknotes could not remove.

There was a general disappointment among the passengers, who, without
reckoning the delay, saw themselves compelled to trudge fifteen miles
over a plain covered with snow.  They grumbled and protested, and would
certainly have thus attracted Phileas Fogg's attention if he had not
been completely absorbed in his game.

Passepartout found that he could not avoid telling his master what had
occurred, and, with hanging head, he was turning towards the car, when
the engineer, a true Yankee, named Forster called out, "Gentlemen,
perhaps there is a way, after all, to get over."

"On the bridge?" asked a passenger.

"On the bridge."

"With our train?"

"With our train."

Passepartout stopped short, and eagerly listened to the engineer.

"But the bridge is unsafe," urged the conductor.

"No matter," replied Forster; "I think that by putting on the very
highest speed we might have a chance of getting over."

"The devil!" muttered Passepartout.

But a number of the passengers were at once attracted by the engineer's
proposal, and Colonel Proctor was especially delighted, and found the
plan a very feasible one.  He told stories about engineers leaping
their trains over rivers without bridges, by putting on full steam; and
many of those present avowed themselves of the engineer's mind.

"We have fifty chances out of a hundred of getting over," said one.

"Eighty! ninety!"

Passepartout was astounded, and, though ready to attempt anything to
get over Medicine Creek, thought the experiment proposed a little too
American.  "Besides," thought he, "there's a still more simple way, and
it does not even occur to any of these people!  Sir," said he aloud to
one of the passengers, "the engineer's plan seems to me a little
dangerous, but--"

"Eighty chances!" replied the passenger, turning his back on him.

"I know it," said Passepartout, turning to another passenger, "but a
simple idea--"

"Ideas are no use," returned the American, shrugging his shoulders, "as
the engineer assures us that we can pass."

"Doubtless," urged Passepartout, "we can pass, but perhaps it would be
more prudent--"

"What!  Prudent!" cried Colonel Proctor, whom this word seemed to
excite prodigiously.  "At full speed, don't you see, at full speed!"

"I know--I see," repeated Passepartout; "but it would be, if not more
prudent, since that word displeases you, at least more natural--"

"Who!  What!  What's the matter with this fellow?" cried several.

The poor fellow did not know to whom to address himself.

"Are you afraid?" asked Colonel Proctor.

"I afraid?  Very well; I will show these people that a Frenchman can be
as American as they!"

"All aboard!" cried the conductor.

"Yes, all aboard!" repeated Passepartout, and immediately.  "But they
can't prevent me from thinking that it would be more natural for us to
cross the bridge on foot, and let the train come after!"

But no one heard this sage reflection, nor would anyone have
acknowledged its justice.  The passengers resumed their places in the
cars.  Passepartout took his seat without telling what had passed.  The
whist-players were quite absorbed in their game.

The locomotive whistled vigorously; the engineer, reversing the steam,
backed the train for nearly a mile--retiring, like a jumper, in order
to take a longer leap.  Then, with another whistle, he began to move
forward; the train increased its speed, and soon its rapidity became
frightful; a prolonged screech issued from the locomotive; the piston
worked up and down twenty strokes to the second.  They perceived that
the whole train, rushing on at the rate of a hundred miles an hour,
hardly bore upon the rails at all.

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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The train moves on a northerly course for an hour and it is in this area that the trains face the maximum difficulties. The train passes many streams, while Passepartout's impatience grows. During the night, there is heavy snow and Passepartout starts worrying. Meanwhile, Aouda had spotted Colonel Stamp Proctor on a station and was disturbed that Fogg might see him and get into an argument and fight. Aouda had begun to find Fogg very dear and her affection was growing. Aouda tells Fix and Passepartout about Colonel Proctor's presence on the train and they all agree that it would be best if Fogg were not to see the Colonel. Passepartout is surprised that Fix offers to fight with the Colonel on Fogg's behalf. Later, in order to keep Fogg in the compartment itself, Fix offers to start a game of whist. Fogg, Fix and Aouda begin to play together. The game continues for long, while the train moves forward through new terrain. The group has lunch in the compartment. Suddenly the train stops and the others are worried that Fogg will get up and go down to see what the cause of the delay is. But he doesn't get up and Passepartout goes to see what the problem is. The fact is that the train driver is told not to proceed ahead because a suspension bridge ahead, which is over rapids, is in a ruinous condition. There is a debate between the train personnel and the passengers as to what should be done. Finally, the group agrees that if the train is put on full speed, it would manage to get over the bridge. Passepartout suggests as this step is to be taken, the passengers should be told to get off and then the train should be put across the bridge at a fast pace. No one listens to him and the train speeds on to the bridge. Luckily nothing happens to the train and everybody is happy to get across safely. The bridge of course collapses and crashes into the rapids of Medicine Bow.


prompt:
Chapter: 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.

Mr. Fogg and his partners had resumed their game; no one--not even the
dummy--complained of the length of the trip.  Fix had begun by winning
several guineas, which he seemed likely to lose; but he showed himself
a not less eager whist-player than Mr. Fogg.  During the morning,
chance distinctly favoured that gentleman.  Trumps and honours were
showered upon his hands.

Once, having resolved on a bold stroke, he was on the point of playing
a spade, when a voice behind him said, "I should play a diamond."

Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix raised their heads, and beheld Colonel Proctor.

Stamp Proctor and Phileas Fogg recognised each other at once.

"Ah! it's you, is it, Englishman?" cried the colonel; "it's you who are
going to play a spade!"

"And who plays it," replied Phileas Fogg coolly, throwing down the ten
of spades.

"Well, it pleases me to have it diamonds," replied Colonel Proctor, in
an insolent tone.

He made a movement as if to seize the card which had just been played,
adding, "You don't understand anything about whist."

"Perhaps I do, as well as another," said Phileas Fogg, rising.

"You have only to try, son of John Bull," replied the colonel.

Aouda turned pale, and her blood ran cold.  She seized Mr. Fogg's arm
and gently pulled him back.  Passepartout was ready to pounce upon the
American, who was staring insolently at his opponent.  But Fix got up,
and, going to Colonel Proctor said, "You forget that it is I with whom
you have to deal, sir; for it was I whom you not only insulted, but
struck!"

"Mr. Fix," said Mr. Fogg, "pardon me, but this affair is mine, and mine
only.  The colonel has again insulted me, by insisting that I should
not play a spade, and he shall give me satisfaction for it."

"When and where you will," replied the American, "and with whatever
weapon you choose."

Aouda in vain attempted to retain Mr. Fogg; as vainly did the detective
endeavour to make the quarrel his.  Passepartout wished to throw the
colonel out of the window, but a sign from his master checked him.
Phileas Fogg left the car, and the American followed him upon the
platform.  "Sir," said Mr. Fogg to his adversary, "I am in a great
hurry to get back to Europe, and any delay whatever will be greatly to
my disadvantage."

"Well, what's that to me?" replied Colonel Proctor.

"Sir," said Mr. Fogg, very politely, "after our meeting at San
Francisco, I determined to return to America and find you as soon as I
had completed the business which called me to England."

"Really!"

"Will you appoint a meeting for six months hence?"

"Why not ten years hence?"

"I say six months," returned Phileas Fogg; "and I shall be at the place
of meeting promptly."

"All this is an evasion," cried Stamp Proctor.  "Now or never!"

"Very good.  You are going to New York?"

"No."

"To Chicago?"

"No."

"To Omaha?"

"What difference is it to you?  Do you know Plum Creek?"

"No," replied Mr. Fogg.

"It's the next station.  The train will be there in an hour, and will
stop there ten minutes.  In ten minutes several revolver-shots could be
exchanged."

"Very well," said Mr. Fogg.  "I will stop at Plum Creek."

"And I guess you'll stay there too," added the American insolently.

"Who knows?" replied Mr. Fogg, returning to the car as coolly as usual.
He began to reassure Aouda, telling her that blusterers were never to
be feared, and begged Fix to be his second at the approaching duel, a
request which the detective could not refuse.  Mr. Fogg resumed the
interrupted game with perfect calmness.

At eleven o'clock the locomotive's whistle announced that they were
approaching Plum Creek station.  Mr. Fogg rose, and, followed by Fix,
went out upon the platform.  Passepartout accompanied him, carrying a
pair of revolvers.  Aouda remained in the car, as pale as death.

The door of the next car opened, and Colonel Proctor appeared on the
platform, attended by a Yankee of his own stamp as his second.  But
just as the combatants were about to step from the train, the conductor
hurried up, and shouted, "You can't get off, gentlemen!"

"Why not?" asked the colonel.

"We are twenty minutes late, and we shall not stop."

"But I am going to fight a duel with this gentleman."

"I am sorry," said the conductor; "but we shall be off at once.
There's the bell ringing now."

The train started.

"I'm really very sorry, gentlemen," said the conductor.  "Under any
other circumstances I should have been happy to oblige you.  But, after
all, as you have not had time to fight here, why not fight as we go
along?"

"That wouldn't be convenient, perhaps, for this gentleman," said the
colonel, in a jeering tone.

"It would be perfectly so," replied Phileas Fogg.

"Well, we are really in America," thought Passepartout, "and the
conductor is a gentleman of the first order!"

So muttering, he followed his master.

The two combatants, their seconds, and the conductor passed through the
cars to the rear of the train.  The last car was only occupied by a
dozen passengers, whom the conductor politely asked if they would not
be so kind as to leave it vacant for a few moments, as two gentlemen
had an affair of honour to settle.  The passengers granted the request
with alacrity, and straightway disappeared on the platform.

The car, which was some fifty feet long, was very convenient for their
purpose.  The adversaries might march on each other in the aisle, and
fire at their ease.  Never was duel more easily arranged.  Mr. Fogg and
Colonel Proctor, each provided with two six-barrelled revolvers,
entered the car.  The seconds, remaining outside, shut them in.  They
were to begin firing at the first whistle of the locomotive.  After an
interval of two minutes, what remained of the two gentlemen would be
taken from the car.

Nothing could be more simple.  Indeed, it was all so simple that Fix
and Passepartout felt their hearts beating as if they would crack.
They were listening for the whistle agreed upon, when suddenly savage
cries resounded in the air, accompanied by reports which certainly did
not issue from the car where the duellists were.  The reports continued
in front and the whole length of the train.  Cries of terror proceeded
from the interior of the cars.

Colonel Proctor and Mr. Fogg, revolvers in hand, hastily quitted their
prison, and rushed forward where the noise was most clamorous.  They
then perceived that the train was attacked by a band of Sioux.

This was not the first attempt of these daring Indians, for more than
once they had waylaid trains on the road.  A hundred of them had,
according to their habit, jumped upon the steps without stopping the
train, with the ease of a clown mounting a horse at full gallop.

The Sioux were armed with guns, from which came the reports, to which
the passengers, who were almost all armed, responded by revolver-shots.

The Indians had first mounted the engine, and half stunned the engineer
and stoker with blows from their muskets.  A Sioux chief, wishing to
stop the train, but not knowing how to work the regulator, had opened
wide instead of closing the steam-valve, and the locomotive was
plunging forward with terrific velocity.

The Sioux had at the same time invaded the cars, skipping like enraged
monkeys over the roofs, thrusting open the doors, and fighting hand to
hand with the passengers.  Penetrating the baggage-car, they pillaged
it, throwing the trunks out of the train.  The cries and shots were
constant.  The travellers defended themselves bravely; some of the cars
were barricaded, and sustained a siege, like moving forts, carried
along at a speed of a hundred miles an hour.

Aouda behaved courageously from the first.  She defended herself like a
true heroine with a revolver, which she shot through the broken windows
whenever a savage made his appearance.  Twenty Sioux had fallen
mortally wounded to the ground, and the wheels crushed those who fell
upon the rails as if they had been worms.  Several passengers, shot or
stunned, lay on the seats.

It was necessary to put an end to the struggle, which had lasted for
ten minutes, and which would result in the triumph of the Sioux if the
train was not stopped.  Fort Kearney station, where there was a
garrison, was only two miles distant; but, that once passed, the Sioux
would be masters of the train between Fort Kearney and the station
beyond.

The conductor was fighting beside Mr. Fogg, when he was shot and fell.
At the same moment he cried, "Unless the train is stopped in five
minutes, we are lost!"

"It shall be stopped," said Phileas Fogg, preparing to rush from the
car.

"Stay, monsieur," cried Passepartout; "I will go."

Mr. Fogg had not time to stop the brave fellow, who, opening a door
unperceived by the Indians, succeeded in slipping under the car; and
while the struggle continued and the balls whizzed across each other
over his head, he made use of his old acrobatic experience, and with
amazing agility worked his way under the cars, holding on to the
chains, aiding himself by the brakes and edges of the sashes, creeping
from one car to another with marvellous skill, and thus gaining the
forward end of the train.

There, suspended by one hand between the baggage-car and the tender,
with the other he loosened the safety chains; but, owing to the
traction, he would never have succeeded in unscrewing the yoking-bar,
had not a violent concussion jolted this bar out.  The train, now
detached from the engine, remained a little behind, whilst the
locomotive rushed forward with increased speed.

Carried on by the force already acquired, the train still moved for
several minutes; but the brakes were worked and at last they stopped,
less than a hundred feet from Kearney station.

The soldiers of the fort, attracted by the shots, hurried up; the Sioux
had not expected them, and decamped in a body before the train entirely
stopped.

But when the passengers counted each other on the station platform
several were found missing; among others the courageous Frenchman,
whose devotion had just saved them.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The train pursues its course. Thirteen hundred and eighty two miles had now been traveled over from San Francisco in three days and three nights. Fogg and his partners were busy with cards, when suddenly Colonel Proctor is among them. He is rude and sarcastic to Fogg and there is a war of words. Fogg and the Colonel decide to duel with each other and Fogg wants to arrange for a meeting six months hence. But the Colonel wants to fight immediately and so they decide to do that at Plum Greek, a train stop. Fix is to be the second in the impending duel. But the guard rushes up to them at the station, saying that the train will not be stopping there. The guard suggests that the duo should fight in the train itself-in the carriages to the rear. Just before Fogg and the Colonel commence dueling the air is rent with savage yells and detonations. The train was being attacked by a band of Sioux who were armed with guns. They swarm the carriages and a fight between them and the passengers ensues. Aouda showed great courage and defended herself heroically. The guard who was fighting beside Fogg cried that if the train is not stopped, the Sioux would win. Passepartout hears this too and manages to slip under the train carriages. He removes the safety chains and a violent jolt separates the train and the engine. The train comes to a stand still near Kearney Fort station. The soldiers of the fort hear the firing and hurry up and the Sioux scampers away. But when the passengers are counted on the station platform, it is found that several are missing, including Passepartout.


prompt:
Chapter: 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 mortally.  Colonel Proctor was one of
the most seriously hurt; he had fought bravely, and a ball had entered
his groin.  He was carried into the station with the other wounded
passengers, to receive such attention as could be of avail.

Aouda was safe; and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the thickest of the
fight, had not received a scratch.  Fix was slightly wounded in the
arm.  But Passepartout was not to be found, and tears coursed 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 ragged 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 folded arms, remained motionless.  He had a serious
decision to make.  Aouda, standing near him, looked at him without
speaking, and he understood her look.  If his servant was a prisoner,
ought he not to risk everything to rescue him from the Indians?  "I
will find him, living or dead," said he quietly to Aouda.

"Ah, Mr.--Mr. Fogg!" cried she, clasping his hands and covering them
with tears.

"Living," added Mr. Fogg, "if we do not lose a moment."

Phileas Fogg, by this resolution, inevitably sacrificed himself; he
pronounced his own doom.  The delay of a single day would make him lose
the steamer at New York, and his bet would be certainly lost.  But as
he thought, "It is my duty," he did not hesitate.

The commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there.  A hundred of his
soldiers had placed themselves in a position to defend the station,
should the Sioux attack it.

"Sir," said Mr. Fogg to the captain, "three passengers have
disappeared."

"Dead?" asked the captain.

"Dead or prisoners; that is the uncertainty which must be solved.  Do
you propose to pursue the Sioux?"

"That's a serious thing to do, sir," returned the captain.  "These
Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot 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," returned the other, "has a right to teach me my duty."

"Very well," said Mr. Fogg, coldly.  "I will 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 perish--him to whom every
one present owes his life?  I shall go."

"No, sir, you shall not go alone," cried the captain, touched in spite
of himself.  "No! you are a brave man.  Thirty volunteers!" he added,
turning to the soldiers.

The whole company started forward at once.  The captain had only to
pick his men.  Thirty were chosen, and an old sergeant 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 wish to do me a favour, you will
remain with Aouda.  In case anything should happen to me--"

A sudden pallor overspread the detective's face.  Separate himself from
the man whom he had so persistently followed step by step!  Leave him
to wander about in this desert!  Fix gazed attentively at Mr. Fogg,
and, despite his suspicions and of the struggle which was going on
within him, he lowered his eyes before that calm and frank look.

"I will stay," said he.

A few moments after, Mr. Fogg pressed the young woman's hand, and,
having confided to her his precious carpet-bag, went off with the
sergeant and his little squad.  But, before going, he had said to the
soldiers, "My friends, I will divide five thousand dollars among you,
if we save the prisoners."

It was then a little past noon.

Aouda retired to a waiting-room, and there she waited alone, thinking
of the simple and noble generosity, the tranquil courage of Phileas
Fogg.  He had sacrificed his fortune, and was now risking his life, all
without hesitation, from duty, in silence.

Fix did not have the same thoughts, and could scarcely conceal his
agitation.  He walked feverishly up and down the platform, but soon
resumed his outward composure.  He now saw the folly of which he had
been guilty in letting Fogg go alone.  What!  This man, whom he had
just followed around the world, was permitted now to separate himself
from him!  He began to accuse and abuse himself, and, as if he were
director of police, administered to himself a sound lecture for his
greenness.

"I have been an idiot!" he thought, "and this man will see it.  He has
gone, and won't come back!  But how is it that I, Fix, who have in my
pocket a warrant for his arrest, have been so fascinated by him?
Decidedly, I am nothing but an ass!"

So reasoned the detective, while the hours crept by all too slowly.  He
did not know what to do.  Sometimes he was tempted to tell Aouda all;
but he could not doubt how the young woman would receive his
confidences.  What course should he take?  He thought of pursuing Fogg
across the vast white plains; it did not seem impossible that he might
overtake him.  Footsteps were easily printed on the snow!  But soon,
under a new sheet, every imprint would be effaced.

Fix became discouraged.  He felt a sort of insurmountable longing to
abandon the game altogether.  He could now leave Fort Kearney station,
and pursue his journey homeward in peace.

Towards two o'clock in the afternoon, while it was snowing hard, long
whistles were heard approaching from the east.  A great shadow,
preceded by a wild light, slowly advanced, appearing still larger
through the mist, which gave it a fantastic aspect.  No train was
expected from the east, neither had there been time for the succour
asked for by telegraph to arrive; the train from Omaha to San Francisco
was not due till the next day.  The mystery was soon explained.

The locomotive, which was slowly approaching with deafening whistles,
was that which, having been detached from the train, had continued its
route with such terrific rapidity, carrying off the unconscious
engineer and stoker.  It had run several miles, when, the fire becoming
low for want of fuel, the steam had slackened; and it had finally
stopped an hour after, some twenty miles beyond Fort Kearney.  Neither
the engineer nor the stoker was dead, and, after remaining for some
time in their swoon, had come to themselves.  The train had then
stopped.  The engineer, when he found himself in the desert, and the
locomotive without cars, understood what had happened.  He could not
imagine how the locomotive had become separated from the train; but he
did not doubt that the train left behind was in distress.

He did not hesitate what to do.  It would be prudent to continue on to
Omaha, for it would be dangerous to return to the train, which the
Indians might still be engaged in pillaging.  Nevertheless, he began to
rebuild the fire in the furnace; the pressure again mounted, and the
locomotive returned, running backwards to Fort Kearney.  This it was
which was whistling in the mist.

The travellers were glad to see the locomotive resume its place at the
head of the train.  They could now continue the journey so terribly
interrupted.

Aouda, on seeing the locomotive come up, hurried out of the station,
and asked the conductor, "Are you going to start?"

"At once, madam."

"But the prisoners, our unfortunate fellow-travellers--"

"I cannot interrupt the trip," replied the conductor.  "We are already
three hours behind time."

"And when will another train pass here from San Francisco?"

"To-morrow evening, madam."

"To-morrow evening!  But then it will be too late!  We must wait--"

"It is impossible," responded the conductor.  "If you wish to go,
please get in."

"I will not go," said Aouda.

Fix had heard this conversation.  A little while before, when there was
no prospect of proceeding on the journey, he had made up his mind to
leave Fort Kearney; but now that the train was there, ready to start,
and he had only to take his seat in the car, an irresistible influence
held him back.  The station platform burned his feet, and he could not
stir.  The conflict in his mind again began; anger and failure stifled
him.  He wished to struggle on to the end.

Meanwhile the passengers and some of the wounded, among them Colonel
Proctor, whose injuries were serious, had taken their places in the
train.  The buzzing of the over-heated boiler was heard, and the steam
was escaping from the valves.  The engineer whistled, the train
started, and soon disappeared, mingling its white smoke with the eddies
of the densely falling snow.

The detective had remained behind.

Several hours passed.  The weather was dismal, and it was very cold.
Fix sat motionless on a bench in the station; he might have been
thought asleep.  Aouda, despite the storm, kept coming out of the
waiting-room, going to the end of the platform, and peering through the
tempest of snow, as if to pierce the mist which narrowed the horizon
around her, and to hear, if possible, some welcome sound.  She heard
and saw nothing.  Then she would return, chilled through, to issue out
again after the lapse of a few moments, but always in vain.

Evening came, and the little band had not returned.  Where could they
be?  Had they found the Indians, and were they having a conflict with
them, or were they still wandering amid the mist?  The commander of the
fort was anxious, though he tried to conceal his apprehensions.  As
night approached, the snow fell less plentifully, but it became
intensely cold.  Absolute silence rested on the plains.  Neither flight
of bird nor passing of beast troubled the perfect calm.

Throughout the night Aouda, full of sad forebodings, her heart stifled
with anguish, wandered about on the verge of the plains.  Her
imagination carried her far off, and showed her innumerable dangers.
What she suffered through the long hours it would be impossible to
describe.

Fix remained stationary in the same place, but did not sleep.  Once a
man approached and spoke to him, and the detective merely replied by
shaking his head.

Thus the night passed.  At dawn, the half-extinguished disc of the sun
rose above a misty horizon; but it was now possible to recognise
objects two miles off.  Phileas Fogg and the squad had gone southward;
in the south all was still vacancy.  It was then seven o'clock.

The captain, who was really alarmed, did not know what course to take.

Should he send another detachment to the rescue of the first?  Should
he sacrifice more men, with so few chances of saving those already
sacrificed?  His hesitation did not last long, however.  Calling one of
his lieutenants, he was on the point of ordering a reconnaissance, when
gunshots were heard.  Was it a signal?  The soldiers rushed out of the
fort, and half a mile off they perceived a little band returning in
good order.

Mr. Fogg was marching at their head, and just behind him were
Passepartout and the other two travellers, 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, three of whom the Frenchman
had felled with his fists, when his master and the soldiers hastened up
to their relief.

All were welcomed with joyful cries.  Phileas Fogg distributed 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
difficult to analyse the thoughts which struggled within him.  As for
Aouda, she took her protector's hand and pressed it in her own, too
much moved to speak.

Meanwhile, Passepartout was looking about for the train; he thought he
should find it there, ready to start for Omaha, and he hoped that the
time lost might be regained.

"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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Three passengers including Passepartout had disappeared. Some were wounded including Colonel Proctor. Aouda was safe and Fix had received a slight wound. Aouda was crying for Passepartout while Fogg was grave. Fogg resolves to go looking for the missing Passepartout and he talks to the Captain of Fort Kearney Station about this. The Captain is initially unwilling to send soldiers after the Sioux in order to find the three missing men but eventually he comes around and agrees. Thirty volunteers were chosen to accompany Fogg. Fix is requested to stay with Aouda. Fogg offers the soldiers a thousand pounds, if they were to save the prisoners. Fogg and the soldiers leave and Aouda waits alone in a room in the station. Fix worries, frets and fumes over the fact that Fogg has moved away and wonders whether he will come back. In the afternoon the engine that had got detached from the train thunders back with the driver and stoker having come out of their unconsciousness. The engine is attached to the train again and the train gets ready to leave. Aouda requests the guard to wait but he refuses, as the train is already late. So the train leaves while the detective and Aouda stay behind. Afternoon, evening and night pass in relentless, anxious waiting for Fogg and his group's return. The next morning, the Captain is about to send another group of soldiers after the previous group, when the latter group returns. With Fogg and the soldiers, were the three passengers, including Passepartout who had been taken away by the Sioux. Fogg distributes the promised award amongst the soldiers. Passepartout looks out for the train only to be told that it has left. He is disappointed, while Fogg merely asks calmly, when the next train would be coming along.


prompt:
Chapter: Phileas Fogg found himself twenty hours behind time.  Passepartout, the
involuntary cause of this delay, was desperate.  He had ruined his
master!

At this moment the detective approached Mr. Fogg, and, looking him
intently in the face, said:

"Seriously, sir, are you in great haste?"

"Quite seriously."

"I have a purpose in asking," resumed Fix.  "Is it absolutely necessary
that you should be in New York on the 11th, before nine o'clock in the
evening, the time that the steamer leaves for Liverpool?"

"It is absolutely necessary."

"And, if your journey had not been interrupted by these Indians, you
would have reached New York on the morning of the 11th?"

"Yes; with eleven hours to spare before the steamer left."

"Good! you are therefore twenty hours behind.  Twelve from twenty
leaves eight.  You must regain eight hours.  Do you wish to try to do
so?"

"On foot?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"No; on a sledge," replied Fix.  "On a sledge with sails.  A man has
proposed such a method to me."

It was the man who had spoken to Fix during the night, and whose offer
he had refused.

Phileas Fogg did not reply at once; but Fix, having pointed out the
man, who was walking up and down in front of the station, Mr. Fogg went
up to him.  An instant after, Mr. Fogg and the American, whose name was
Mudge, entered a hut built just below the fort.

There Mr. Fogg examined a curious vehicle, a kind of frame on two long
beams, a little raised in front like the runners of a sledge, and upon
which there was room for five or six persons.  A high mast was fixed on
the frame, held firmly by metallic lashings, to which was attached a
large brigantine sail.  This mast held an iron stay upon which to hoist
a jib-sail.  Behind, a sort of rudder served to guide the vehicle.  It
was, in short, a sledge rigged like a sloop.  During the winter, when
the trains are blocked up by the snow, these sledges make extremely
rapid journeys across the frozen plains from one station to another.
Provided with more sails than a cutter, and with the wind behind them,
they slip over the surface of the prairies with a speed equal if not
superior to that of the express trains.

Mr. Fogg readily made a bargain with the owner of this land-craft.  The
wind was favourable, being fresh, and blowing from the west.  The snow
had hardened, and Mudge was very confident of being able to transport
Mr. Fogg in a few hours to Omaha.  Thence the trains eastward run
frequently to Chicago and New York.  It was not impossible that the
lost time might yet be recovered; and such an opportunity was not to be
rejected.

Not wishing to expose Aouda to the discomforts of travelling in the
open air, Mr. Fogg proposed to leave her with Passepartout at Fort
Kearney, the servant taking upon himself to escort her to Europe by a
better route and under more favourable conditions.  But Aouda refused
to separate from Mr. Fogg, and Passepartout was delighted with her
decision; for nothing could induce him to leave his master while Fix
was with him.

It would be difficult to guess the detective's thoughts.  Was this
conviction shaken by Phileas Fogg's return, or did he still regard him
as an exceedingly shrewd rascal, who, his journey round the world
completed, would think himself absolutely safe in England?  Perhaps
Fix's opinion of Phileas Fogg was somewhat modified; but he was
nevertheless resolved to do his duty, and to hasten the return of the
whole party to England as much as possible.

At eight o'clock the sledge was ready to start.  The passengers took
their places on it, and wrapped themselves up closely in their
travelling-cloaks.  The two great sails were hoisted, and under the
pressure of the wind the sledge slid over the hardened snow with a
velocity of forty miles an hour.

The distance between Fort Kearney and Omaha, as the birds fly, is at
most two hundred miles.  If the wind held good, the distance might be
traversed in five hours; if no accident happened the sledge might reach
Omaha by one o'clock.

What a journey!  The travellers, huddled close together, could not
speak for the cold, intensified by the rapidity at which they were
going.  The sledge sped on as lightly as a boat over the waves.  When
the breeze came skimming the earth the sledge seemed to be lifted off
the ground by its sails.  Mudge, who was at the rudder, kept in a
straight line, and by a turn of his hand checked the lurches which the
vehicle had a tendency to make.  All the sails were up, and the jib was
so arranged as not to screen the brigantine.  A top-mast was hoisted,
and another jib, held out to the wind, added its force to the other
sails.  Although the speed could not be exactly estimated, the sledge
could not be going at less than forty miles an hour.

"If nothing breaks," said Mudge, "we shall get there!"

Mr. Fogg had made it for Mudge's interest to reach Omaha within the
time agreed on, by the offer of a handsome reward.

The prairie, across which the sledge was moving in a straight line, was
as flat as a sea.  It seemed like a vast frozen lake.  The railroad
which ran through this section ascended from the south-west to the
north-west by Great Island, Columbus, an important Nebraska town,
Schuyler, and Fremont, to Omaha.  It followed throughout the right bank
of the Platte River.  The sledge, shortening this route, took a chord
of the arc described by the railway.  Mudge was not afraid of being
stopped by the Platte River, because it was frozen.  The road, then,
was quite clear of obstacles, and Phileas Fogg had but two things to
fear--an accident to the sledge, and a change or calm in the wind.

But the breeze, far from lessening its force, blew as if to bend the
mast, which, however, the metallic lashings held firmly.  These
lashings, like the chords of a stringed instrument, resounded as if
vibrated by a violin bow.  The sledge slid along in the midst of a
plaintively intense melody.

"Those chords give the fifth and the octave," said Mr. Fogg.

These were the only words he uttered during the journey.  Aouda, cosily
packed in furs and cloaks, was sheltered as much as possible from the
attacks of the freezing wind.  As for Passepartout, his face was as red
as the sun's disc when it sets in the mist, and he laboriously inhaled
the biting air.  With his natural buoyancy of spirits, he began to hope
again.  They would reach New York on the evening, if not on the
morning, of the 11th, and there was still some chances that it would be
before the steamer sailed for Liverpool.

Passepartout even felt a strong desire to grasp his ally, Fix, by the
hand.  He remembered that it was the detective who procured the sledge,
the only means of reaching Omaha in time; but, checked by some
presentiment, he kept his usual reserve.  One thing, however,
Passepartout would never forget, and that was the sacrifice which Mr.
Fogg had made, without hesitation, to rescue him from the Sioux.  Mr.
Fogg had risked his fortune and his life. No!  His servant would never
forget that!

While each of the party was absorbed in reflections so different, the
sledge flew past over the vast carpet of snow.  The creeks it passed
over were not perceived.  Fields and streams disappeared under the
uniform whiteness.  The plain was absolutely deserted.  Between the
Union Pacific road and the branch which unites Kearney with Saint
Joseph it formed a great uninhabited island.  Neither village, station,
nor fort appeared.  From time to time they sped by some phantom-like
tree, whose white skeleton twisted and rattled in the wind.  Sometimes
flocks of wild birds rose, or bands of gaunt, famished, ferocious
prairie-wolves ran howling after the sledge.  Passepartout, revolver in
hand, held himself ready to fire on those which came too near.  Had an
accident then happened to the sledge, the travellers, attacked by these
beasts, would have been in the most terrible danger; but it held on its
even course, soon gained on the wolves, and ere long left the howling
band at a safe distance behind.

About noon Mudge perceived by certain landmarks that he was crossing
the Platte River.  He said nothing, but he felt certain that he was now
within twenty miles of Omaha.  In less than an hour he left the rudder
and furled his sails, whilst the sledge, carried forward by the great
impetus the wind had given it, went on half a mile further with its
sails unspread.

It stopped at last, and Mudge, pointing to a mass of roofs white with
snow, said: "We have got there!"

Arrived!  Arrived at the station which is in daily communication, by
numerous trains, with the Atlantic seaboard!

Passepartout and Fix jumped off, stretched their stiffened limbs, and
aided Mr. Fogg and the young woman to descend from the sledge.  Phileas
Fogg generously rewarded Mudge, whose hand Passepartout warmly grasped,
and the party directed their steps to the Omaha railway station.

The Pacific Railroad proper finds its terminus at this important
Nebraska town.  Omaha is connected with Chicago by the Chicago and Rock
Island Railroad, which runs directly east, and passes fifty stations.

A train was ready to start when Mr. Fogg and his party reached the
station, and they only had time to get into the cars.  They had seen
nothing of Omaha; but Passepartout confessed to himself that this was
not to be regretted, as they were not travelling to see the sights.

The train passed rapidly across the State of Iowa, by Council Bluffs,
Des Moines, and Iowa City.  During the night it crossed the Mississippi
at Davenport, and by Rock Island entered Illinois.  The next day, which
was the 10th, at four o'clock in the evening, it reached Chicago,
already risen from its ruins, and more proudly seated than ever on the
borders of its beautiful Lake Michigan.

Nine hundred miles separated Chicago from New York; but trains are not
wanting at Chicago.  Mr. Fogg passed at once from one to the other, and
the locomotive of the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne, and Chicago Railway left
at full speed, as if it fully comprehended that that gentleman had no
time to lose.  It traversed Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey
like a flash, rushing through towns with antique names, some of which
had streets and car-tracks, but as yet no houses.  At last the Hudson
came into view; and, at a quarter-past eleven in the evening of the
11th, the train stopped in the station on the right bank of the river,
before the very pier of the Cunard line.

The China, for Liverpool, had started three-quarters of an hour before!

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Phileas Fogg was now twenty hours behind time and Passepartout was desperate. Fix then comes to Fogg with the suggestion that they travel to Omaha on a sledge with sails. Fogg meets the American named Mudge, who had suggested this innovation. Fogg inspects the somewhat strange vehicle and agrees to travel in this sledge. Aouda is asked to stay with Passepartout but she refuses and wants to travel along with Fogg. Thus the entire group-Fogg, Passepartout, Aouda and of course the Captain of the sledge-Mudge, travel together to Omaha station. They manage to traverse the two hundred miles in the extreme cold and reach Omaha. Fogg pays Mudge liberally. They take a train from Omaha to Chicago and another from Chicago to New York. But on reaching New York they find out that the ship bound for Liverpool has already left.


prompt:
Chapter: The China, in leaving, seemed to have carried off Phileas Fogg's last
hope.  None of the other steamers were able to serve his projects.  The
Pereire, of the French Transatlantic Company, whose admirable steamers
are equal to any in speed and comfort, did not leave until the 14th;
the Hamburg boats did not go directly to Liverpool or London, but to
Havre; and the additional trip from Havre to Southampton would render
Phileas Fogg's last efforts of no avail.  The Inman steamer did not
depart till the next day, and could not cross the Atlantic in time to
save the wager.

Mr. Fogg learned all this in consulting his Bradshaw, which gave him
the daily movements of the trans-Atlantic steamers.

Passepartout was crushed; it overwhelmed him to lose the boat by
three-quarters of an hour.  It was his fault, for, instead of helping
his master, he had not ceased putting obstacles in his path!  And when
he recalled all the incidents of the tour, when he counted up the sums
expended in pure loss and on his own account, when he thought that the
immense stake, added to the heavy charges of this useless journey,
would completely ruin Mr. Fogg, he overwhelmed himself with bitter
self-accusations.  Mr. Fogg, however, did not reproach him; and, on
leaving the Cunard pier, only said: "We will consult about what is best
to-morrow.  Come."

The party crossed the Hudson in the Jersey City ferryboat, and drove in
a carriage to the St. Nicholas Hotel, on Broadway.  Rooms were engaged,
and the night passed, briefly to Phileas Fogg, who slept profoundly,
but very long to Aouda and the others, whose agitation did not permit
them to rest.

The next day was the 12th of December.  From seven in the morning of
the 12th to a quarter before nine in the evening of the 21st there were
nine days, thirteen hours, and forty-five minutes.  If Phileas Fogg had
left in the China, one of the fastest steamers on the Atlantic, he
would have reached Liverpool, and then London, within the period agreed
upon.

Mr. Fogg left the hotel alone, after giving Passepartout instructions
to await his return, and inform Aouda to be ready at an instant's
notice.  He proceeded to the banks of the Hudson, and looked about
among the vessels moored or anchored in the river, for any that were
about to depart.  Several had departure signals, and were preparing to
put to sea at morning tide; for in this immense and admirable port
there is not one day in a hundred that vessels do not set out for every
quarter of the globe.  But they were mostly sailing vessels, of which,
of course, Phileas Fogg could make no use.

He seemed about to give up all hope, when he espied, anchored at the
Battery, a cable's length off at most, a trading vessel, with a screw,
well-shaped, whose funnel, puffing a cloud of smoke, indicated that she
was getting ready for departure.

Phileas Fogg hailed a boat, got into it, and soon found himself on
board the Henrietta, iron-hulled, wood-built above.  He ascended to the
deck, and asked for the captain, who forthwith presented himself.  He
was a man of fifty, a sort of sea-wolf, with big eyes, a complexion of
oxidised copper, red hair and thick neck, and a growling voice.

"The captain?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"I am the captain."

"I am Phileas Fogg, of London."

"And I am Andrew Speedy, of Cardiff."

"You are going to put to sea?"

"In an hour."

"You are bound for--"

"Bordeaux."

"And your cargo?"

"No freight.  Going in ballast."

"Have you any passengers?"

"No passengers.  Never have passengers.  Too much in the way."

"Is your vessel a swift one?"

"Between eleven and twelve knots.  The Henrietta, well known."

"Will you carry me and three other persons to Liverpool?"

"To Liverpool?  Why not to China?"

"I said Liverpool."

"No!"

"No?"

"No.  I am setting out for Bordeaux, and shall go to Bordeaux."

"Money is no object?"

"None."

The captain spoke in a tone which did not admit of a reply.

"But the owners of the Henrietta--" resumed Phileas Fogg.

"The owners are myself," replied the captain.  "The vessel belongs to
me."

"I will freight it for you."

"No."

"I will buy it of you."

"No."

Phileas Fogg did not betray the least disappointment; but the situation
was a grave one.  It was not at New York as at Hong Kong, nor with the
captain of the Henrietta as with the captain of the Tankadere.  Up to
this time money had smoothed away every obstacle.  Now money failed.

Still, some means must be found to cross the Atlantic on a boat, unless
by balloon--which would have been venturesome, besides not being
capable of being put in practice.  It seemed that Phileas Fogg had an
idea, for he said to the captain, "Well, will you carry me to Bordeaux?"

"No, not if you paid me two hundred dollars."

"I offer you two thousand."

"Apiece?"

"Apiece."

"And there are four of you?"

"Four."

Captain Speedy began to scratch his head.  There were eight thousand
dollars to gain, without changing his route; for which it was well
worth conquering the repugnance he had for all kinds of passengers.
Besides, passengers at two thousand dollars are no longer passengers,
but valuable merchandise.  "I start at nine o'clock," said Captain
Speedy, simply.  "Are you and your party ready?"

"We will be on board at nine o'clock," replied, no less simply, Mr.
Fogg.

It was half-past eight.  To disembark from the Henrietta, jump into a
hack, hurry to the St. Nicholas, and return with Aouda, Passepartout,
and even the inseparable Fix was the work of a brief time, and was
performed by Mr. Fogg with the coolness which never abandoned him.
They were on board when the Henrietta made ready to weigh anchor.

When Passepartout heard what this last voyage was going to cost, he
uttered a prolonged "Oh!" which extended throughout his vocal gamut.

As for Fix, he said to himself that the Bank of England would certainly
not come out of this affair well indemnified.  When they reached
England, even if Mr. Fogg did not throw some handfuls of bank-bills
into the sea, more than seven thousand pounds would have been spent!

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Fogg's last hope seemed to have gone with the 'China', the boat that leaves for Liverpool from New York. Passepartout is crushed by the fact that the boat has been missed because of him. Fogg merely says that they will decide the next day, on what needs to be done. They stay the night at a Hotel and the next day, Fogg leaves the hotel alone, in order to look for a ship. He sees a trading vessel of fine lines-the 'Henrietta' and goes to meet the Captain. Fogg wants to know, whether the Captain-Andrew Speedy-will take passengers to Liverpool. The latter refuses but Fogg manages to strike a deal, for a journey to Bordeaux. He offers two thousand dollars for each person and there are four. Thus, the foursome-Fogg, Aouda, Passepartout and Fix board the ship-Henrietta-for Bordeaux.


prompt:
Chapter: An hour after, the Henrietta passed the lighthouse which marks the
entrance of the Hudson, turned the point of Sandy Hook, and put to sea.
During the day she skirted Long Island, passed Fire Island, and
directed her course rapidly eastward.

At noon the next day, a man mounted the bridge to ascertain the
vessel's position.  It might be thought that this was Captain Speedy.
Not the least in the world.  It was Phileas Fogg, Esquire.  As for
Captain Speedy, he was shut up in his cabin under lock and key, and was
uttering loud cries, which signified an anger at once pardonable and
excessive.

What had happened was very simple.  Phileas Fogg wished to go to
Liverpool, but the captain would not carry him there.  Then Phileas
Fogg had taken passage for Bordeaux, and, during the thirty hours he
had been on board, had so shrewdly managed with his banknotes that the
sailors and stokers, who were only an occasional crew, and were not on
the best terms with the captain, went over to him in a body.  This was
why Phileas Fogg was in command instead of Captain Speedy; why the
captain was a prisoner in his cabin; and why, in short, the Henrietta
was directing her course towards Liverpool.  It was very clear, to see
Mr. Fogg manage the craft, that he had been a sailor.

How the adventure ended will be seen anon.  Aouda was anxious, though
she said nothing.  As for Passepartout, he thought Mr. Fogg's manoeuvre
simply glorious.  The captain had said "between eleven and twelve
knots," and the Henrietta confirmed his prediction.

If, then--for there were "ifs" still--the sea did not become too
boisterous, if the wind did not veer round to the east, if no accident
happened to the boat or its machinery, the Henrietta might cross the
three thousand miles from New York to Liverpool in the nine days,
between the 12th and the 21st of December.  It is true that, once
arrived, the affair on board the Henrietta, added to that of the Bank
of England, might create more difficulties for Mr. Fogg than he
imagined or could desire.

During the first days, they went along smoothly enough.  The sea was
not very unpropitious, the wind seemed stationary in the north-east,
the sails were hoisted, and the Henrietta ploughed across the waves
like a real trans-Atlantic steamer.

Passepartout was delighted.  His master's last exploit, the
consequences of which he ignored, enchanted him.  Never had the crew
seen so jolly and dexterous a fellow.  He formed warm friendships with
the sailors, and amazed them with his acrobatic feats.  He thought they
managed the vessel like gentlemen, and that the stokers fired up like
heroes.  His loquacious good-humour infected everyone.  He had
forgotten the past, its vexations and delays.  He only thought of the
end, so nearly accomplished; and sometimes he boiled over with
impatience, as if heated by the furnaces of the Henrietta.  Often,
also, the worthy fellow revolved around Fix, looking at him with a
keen, distrustful eye; but he did not speak to him, for their old
intimacy no longer existed.

Fix, it must be confessed, understood nothing of what was going on.
The conquest of the Henrietta, the bribery of the crew, Fogg managing
the boat like a skilled seaman, amazed and confused him.  He did not
know what to think.  For, after all, a man who began by stealing
fifty-five thousand pounds might end by stealing a vessel; and Fix was
not unnaturally inclined to conclude that the Henrietta under Fogg's
command, was not going to Liverpool at all, but to some part of the
world where the robber, turned into a pirate, would quietly put himself
in safety.  The conjecture was at least a plausible one, and the
detective began to seriously regret that he had embarked on the affair.

As for Captain Speedy, he continued to howl and growl in his cabin; and
Passepartout, whose duty it was to carry him his meals, courageous as
he was, took the greatest precautions.  Mr. Fogg did not seem even to
know that there was a captain on board.

On the 13th they passed the edge of the Banks of Newfoundland, a
dangerous locality; during the winter, especially, there are frequent
fogs and heavy gales of wind.  Ever since the evening before the
barometer, suddenly falling, had indicated an approaching change in the
atmosphere; and during the night the temperature varied, the cold
became sharper, and the wind veered to the south-east.

This was a misfortune.  Mr. Fogg, in order not to deviate from his
course, furled his sails and increased the force of the steam; but the
vessel's speed slackened, owing to the state of the sea, the long waves
of which broke against the stern.  She pitched violently, and this
retarded her progress.  The breeze little by little swelled into a
tempest, and it was to be feared that the Henrietta might not be able
to maintain herself upright on the waves.

Passepartout's visage darkened with the skies, and for two days the
poor fellow experienced constant fright.  But Phileas Fogg was a bold
mariner, and knew how to maintain headway against the sea; and he kept
on his course, without even decreasing his steam.  The Henrietta, when
she could not rise upon the waves, crossed them, swamping her deck, but
passing safely.  Sometimes the screw rose out of the water, beating its
protruding end, when a mountain of water raised the stern above the
waves; but the craft always kept straight ahead.

The wind, however, did not grow as boisterous as might have been
feared; it was not one of those tempests which burst, and rush on with
a speed of ninety miles an hour.  It continued fresh, but, unhappily,
it remained obstinately in the south-east, rendering the sails useless.

The 16th of December was the seventy-fifth day since Phileas Fogg's
departure from London, and the Henrietta had not yet been seriously
delayed.  Half of the voyage was almost accomplished, and the worst
localities had been passed.  In summer, success would have been
well-nigh certain.  In winter, they were at the mercy of the bad
season.  Passepartout said nothing; but he cherished hope in secret,
and comforted himself with the reflection that, if the wind failed
them, they might still count on the steam.

On this day the engineer came on deck, went up to Mr. Fogg, and began
to speak earnestly with him.  Without knowing why it was a
presentiment, perhaps Passepartout became vaguely uneasy.  He would
have given one of his ears to hear with the other what the engineer was
saying.  He finally managed to catch a few words, and was sure he heard
his master say, "You are certain of what you tell me?"

"Certain, sir," replied the engineer.  "You must remember that, since
we started, we have kept up hot fires in all our furnaces, and, though
we had coal enough to go on short steam from New York to Bordeaux, we
haven't enough to go with all steam from New York to Liverpool." "I
will consider," replied Mr. Fogg.

Passepartout understood it all; he was seized with mortal anxiety.  The
coal was giving out!  "Ah, if my master can get over that," muttered
he, "he'll be a famous man!"  He could not help imparting to Fix what
he had overheard.

"Then you believe that we really are going to Liverpool?"

"Of course."

"Ass!" replied the detective, shrugging his shoulders and turning on
his heel.

Passepartout was on the point of vigorously resenting the epithet, the
reason of which he could not for the life of him comprehend; but he
reflected that the unfortunate Fix was probably very much disappointed
and humiliated in his self-esteem, after having so awkwardly followed a
false scent around the world, and refrained.

And now what course would Phileas Fogg adopt?  It was difficult to
imagine.  Nevertheless he seemed to have decided upon one, for that
evening he sent for the engineer, and said to him, "Feed all the fires
until the coal is exhausted."

A few moments after, the funnel of the Henrietta vomited forth torrents
of smoke.  The vessel continued to proceed with all steam on; but on
the 18th, the engineer, as he had predicted, announced that the coal
would give out in the course of the day.

"Do not let the fires go down," replied Mr. Fogg.  "Keep them up to the
last.  Let the valves be filled."

Towards noon Phileas Fogg, having ascertained their position, called
Passepartout, and ordered him to go for Captain Speedy.  It was as if
the honest fellow had been commanded to unchain a tiger.  He went to
the poop, saying to himself, "He will be like a madman!"

In a few moments, with cries and oaths, a bomb appeared on the
poop-deck.  The bomb was Captain Speedy.  It was clear that he was on
the point of bursting.  "Where are we?"  were the first words his anger
permitted him to utter.  Had the poor man been an apoplectic, he could
never have recovered from his paroxysm of wrath.

"Where are we?" he repeated, with purple face.

"Seven hundred and seven miles from Liverpool," replied Mr. Fogg, with
imperturbable calmness.

"Pirate!" cried Captain Speedy.

"I have sent for you, sir--"

"Pickaroon!"

"--sir," continued Mr. Fogg, "to ask you to sell me your vessel."

"No!  By all the devils, no!"

"But I shall be obliged to burn her."

"Burn the Henrietta!"

"Yes; at least the upper part of her.  The coal has given out."

"Burn my vessel!" cried Captain Speedy, who could scarcely pronounce
the words.  "A vessel worth fifty thousand dollars!"

"Here are sixty thousand," replied Phileas Fogg, handing the captain a
roll of bank-bills.  This had a prodigious effect on Andrew Speedy.  An
American can scarcely remain unmoved at the sight of sixty thousand
dollars.  The captain forgot in an instant his anger, his imprisonment,
and all his grudges against his passenger.  The Henrietta was twenty
years old; it was a great bargain.  The bomb would not go off after
all.  Mr. Fogg had taken away the match.

"And I shall still have the iron hull," said the captain in a softer
tone.

"The iron hull and the engine.  Is it agreed?"

"Agreed."

And Andrew Speedy, seizing the banknotes, counted them and consigned
them to his pocket.

During this colloquy, Passepartout was as white as a sheet, and Fix
seemed on the point of having an apoplectic fit.  Nearly twenty
thousand pounds had been expended, and Fogg left the hull and engine to
the captain, that is, near the whole value of the craft!  It was true,
however, that fifty-five thousand pounds had been stolen from the Bank.

When Andrew Speedy had pocketed the money, Mr. Fogg said to him, "Don't
let this astonish you, sir.  You must know that I shall lose twenty
thousand pounds, unless I arrive in London by a quarter before nine on
the evening of the 21st of December.  I missed the steamer at New York,
and as you refused to take me to Liverpool--"

"And I did well!" cried Andrew Speedy; "for I have gained at least
forty thousand dollars by it!"  He added, more sedately, "Do you know
one thing, Captain--"

"Fogg."

"Captain Fogg, you've got something of the Yankee about you."

And, having paid his passenger what he considered a high compliment, he
was going away, when Mr. Fogg said, "The vessel now belongs to me?"

"Certainly, from the keel to the truck of the masts--all the wood, that
is."

"Very well.  Have the interior seats, bunks, and frames pulled down,
and burn them."

It was necessary to have dry wood to keep the steam up to the adequate
pressure, and on that day the poop, cabins, bunks, and the spare deck
were sacrificed.  On the next day, the 19th of December, the masts,
rafts, and spars were burned; the crew worked lustily, keeping up the
fires.  Passepartout hewed, cut, and sawed away with all his might.
There was a perfect rage for demolition.

The railings, fittings, the greater part of the deck, and top sides
disappeared on the 20th, and the Henrietta was now only a flat hulk.
But on this day they sighted the Irish coast and Fastnet Light.  By ten
in the evening they were passing Queenstown.  Phileas Fogg had only
twenty-four hours more in which to get to London; that length of time
was necessary to reach Liverpool, with all steam on.  And the steam was
about to give out altogether!

"Sir," said Captain Speedy, who was now deeply interested in Mr. Fogg's
project, "I really commiserate you.  Everything is against you.  We are
only opposite Queenstown."

"Ah," said Mr. Fogg, "is that place where we see the lights Queenstown?"

"Yes."

"Can we enter the harbour?"

"Not under three hours.  Only at high tide."

"Stay," replied Mr. Fogg calmly, without betraying in his features that
by a supreme inspiration he was about to attempt once more to conquer
ill-fortune.

Queenstown is the Irish port at which the trans-Atlantic steamers stop
to put off the mails.  These mails are carried to Dublin by express
trains always held in readiness to start; from Dublin they are sent on
to Liverpool by the most rapid boats, and thus gain twelve hours on the
Atlantic steamers.

Phileas Fogg counted on gaining twelve hours in the same way.  Instead
of arriving at Liverpool the next evening by the Henrietta, he would be
there by noon, and would therefore have time to reach London before a
quarter before nine in the evening.

The Henrietta entered Queenstown Harbour at one o'clock in the morning,
it then being high tide; and Phileas Fogg, after being grasped heartily
by the hand by Captain Speedy, left that gentleman on the levelled hulk
of his craft, which was still worth half what he had sold it for.

The party went on shore at once.  Fix was greatly tempted to arrest Mr.
Fogg on the spot; but he did not.  Why?  What struggle was going on
within him?  Had he changed his mind about "his man"?  Did he
understand that he had made a grave mistake?  He did not, however,
abandon Mr. Fogg.  They all got upon the train, which was just ready to
start, at half-past one; at dawn of day they were in Dublin; and they
lost no time in embarking on a steamer which, disdaining to rise upon
the waves, invariably cut through them.

Phileas Fogg at last disembarked on the Liverpool quay, at twenty
minutes before twelve, 21st December.  He was only six hours distant
from London.

But at this moment Fix came up, put his hand upon Mr. Fogg's shoulder,
and, showing his warrant, said, "You are really Phileas Fogg?"

"I am."

"I arrest you in the Queen's name!"

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: After one day of being on the 'Henrietta', Fogg takes over as the Captain of the ship after having bribed the entire crew and after locking Andrew Speedy in a cabin. Fogg wished to take the ship to Liverpool. Everything went well for the first few days and then the ship got caught in a gale. The ship has to fight the wind and they lose time as a result. Also since the ship had been traveling on full steam the vessel runs out of coal, as fuel. Fogg nevertheless asks the engineer to run the ship on full steam. He then summons Speedy and pays him enough money to be allowed to burn parts of the ship, in order to use them as fuel. Speedy appreciates the large sum of money and lets Fogg do whatever he wants with the ship. The ship manages to reach Queenstown Harbor and Fogg plans to go to Liverpool from here. They reach Liverpool, and now have only six hours in which to reach England. At this moment, Fix arrests Fogg.


prompt:
Chapter: Phileas Fogg was in prison.  He had been shut up in the Custom House,
and he was to be transferred to London the next day.

Passepartout, when he saw his master arrested, would have fallen upon
Fix had he not been held back by some policemen.  Aouda was
thunderstruck at the suddenness of an event which she could not
understand.  Passepartout explained to her how it was that the honest
and courageous Fogg was arrested as a robber.  The young woman's heart
revolted against so heinous a charge, and when she saw that she could
attempt to do nothing to save her protector, she wept bitterly.

As for Fix, he had arrested Mr. Fogg because it was his duty, whether
Mr. Fogg were guilty or not.

The thought then struck Passepartout, that he was the cause of this new
misfortune!  Had he not concealed Fix's errand from his master?  When
Fix revealed his true character and purpose, why had he not told Mr.
Fogg?  If the latter had been warned, he would no doubt have given Fix
proof of his innocence, and satisfied him of his mistake; at least, Fix
would not have continued his journey at the expense and on the heels of
his master, only to arrest him the moment he set foot on English soil.
Passepartout wept till he was blind, and felt like blowing his brains
out.

Aouda and he had remained, despite the cold, under the portico of the
Custom House.  Neither wished to leave the place; both were anxious to
see Mr. Fogg again.

That gentleman was really ruined, and that at the moment when he was
about to attain his end.  This arrest was fatal.  Having arrived at
Liverpool at twenty minutes before twelve on the 21st of December, he
had till a quarter before nine that evening to reach the Reform Club,
that is, nine hours and a quarter; the journey from Liverpool to London
was six hours.

If anyone, at this moment, had entered the Custom House, he would have
found Mr. Fogg seated, motionless, calm, and without apparent anger,
upon a wooden bench.  He was not, it is true, resigned; but this last
blow failed to force him into an outward betrayal of any emotion.  Was
he being devoured by one of those secret rages, all the more terrible
because contained, and which only burst forth, with an irresistible
force, at the last moment?  No one could tell.  There he sat, calmly
waiting--for what?  Did he still cherish hope?  Did he still believe,
now that the door of this prison was closed upon him, that he would
succeed?

However that may have been, Mr. Fogg carefully put his watch upon the
table, and observed its advancing hands.  Not a word escaped his lips,
but his look was singularly set and stern.  The situation, in any
event, was a terrible one, and might be thus stated: if Phileas Fogg
was honest he was ruined; if he was a knave, he was caught.

Did escape occur to him?  Did he examine to see if there were any
practicable outlet from his prison?  Did he think of escaping from it?
Possibly; for once he walked slowly around the room.  But the door was
locked, and the window heavily barred with iron rods.  He sat down
again, and drew his journal from his pocket.  On the line where these
words were written, "21st December, Saturday, Liverpool," he added,
"80th day, 11.40 a.m.," and waited.

The Custom House clock struck one.  Mr. Fogg observed that his watch
was two hours too fast.

Two hours!  Admitting that he was at this moment taking an express
train, he could reach London and the Reform Club by a quarter before
nine, p.m.  His forehead slightly wrinkled.

At thirty-three minutes past two he heard a singular noise outside,
then a hasty opening of doors.  Passepartout's voice was audible, and
immediately after that of Fix.  Phileas Fogg's eyes brightened for an
instant.

The door swung open, and he saw Passepartout, Aouda, and Fix, who
hurried towards him.

Fix was out of breath, and his hair was in disorder.  He could not
speak.  "Sir," he stammered, "sir--forgive me--most--unfortunate
resemblance--robber arrested three days ago--you are free!"

Phileas Fogg was free!  He walked to the detective, looked him steadily
in the face, and with the only rapid motion he had ever made in his
life, or which he ever would make, drew back his arms, and with the
precision of a machine knocked Fix down.

"Well hit!" cried Passepartout, "Parbleu! that's what you might call a
good application of English fists!"

Fix, who found himself on the floor, did not utter a word.  He had only
received his deserts.  Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout left the
Custom House without delay, got into a cab, and in a few moments
descended at the station.

Phileas Fogg asked if there was an express train about to leave for
London.  It was forty minutes past two.  The express train had left
thirty-five minutes before.  Phileas Fogg then ordered a special train.

There were several rapid locomotives on hand; but the railway
arrangements did not permit the special train to leave until three
o'clock.

At that hour Phileas Fogg, having stimulated the engineer by the offer
of a generous reward, at last set out towards London with Aouda and his
faithful servant.

It was necessary to make the journey in five hours and a half; and this
would have been easy on a clear road throughout.  But there were forced
delays, and when Mr. Fogg stepped from the train at the terminus, all
the clocks in London were striking ten minutes before nine.

Having made the tour of the world, he was behind-hand five minutes.  He
had lost the wager!

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Fogg is in the prison. He is confined in the Custom House lock up. Aouda is shocked by Fogg's arrest whereas, Passepartout feels guilty. While Fogg sits in prison, Passepartout calmly watches the hands of a watch move ahead. The thought of trying to escape the prison does cross his mind but there is no way out. While everything seems against him, suddenly Fix and Passepartout come inside his cell. Fix apologizes to Fogg, saying that the real robber was found three days ago and that Fogg is free to go. Fogg gives Fix a punch that knocks the latter down. Passepartout, Fogg and Aouda then go to Liverpool Station. Since the Express train to London had already left, Fogg hires a special train and gives the driver an incentive to reach England as fast as possible. But, the train faces all kinds of insurmountable delays and when Fogg reaches England he thinks he has reached five minutes late. He thinks he has lost his wager.