artout; "but perhaps it would be more
prudent--"

"What, prudent!" exclaimed Colonel Proctor, who was ready to quarrel
with anyone suggesting prudence. "Do you not understand that we are
going across at full speed? Do you hear, at full speed?"

"I know, I know," said Passe-partout, whom no one would allow to
finish his sentence; "but it would be, if not more prudent, since that
word displeases you, at any rate more natural--"

"Who is this, what's this? Who is talking about natural?" cried the
passengers on all sides.

Poor Passe-partout did not know which way to turn.

"Are you afraid?" asked Colonel Proctor.

"I afraid?" cried Passe-partout; "you think so, do you? I will show
these people when a Frenchman can be as American as themselves."

"All aboard!" cried the guard.

"Yes, all get in," muttered Passe-partout; "but you cannot prevent my
thinking that it would be much more natural for us to cross the bridge
on foot and let the train follow."

But no one heard this wise reflection, and if so, probably no one
would have acknowledged its justice.

The passengers took their places, as did Passe-partout, without saying
what had happened. The whist-players were still deep in their game.

The engine-driver whistled and then backed his train for nearly a
mile, then whistling again he started forward. The speed increased to
a fearful extent, and rushing along at a pace of nearly a hundred
miles an hour, seemed hardly to touch the rails at all.

They passed over like a flash of lightning. No one saw anything of the
bridge; the train leaped, as it were, from bank to bank, and could not
be stopped till it had passed the station for some miles.

Scarcely had the train crossed the bridge when the whole structure
fell with a tremendous crash into the rapids beneath!

CHAPTER XXIX.

In which certain Incidents are told which are never met with except on
Railroads in the United States.

That evening the train proceeded without interruption; passed Fort
Saunders, crossed Cheyenne Pass, and arrived at Evans' Pass. Here the
railroad reached its greatest elevation, eight thousand and ninety-one
feet above the sea. The track was now downhill all the way to the
Atlantic, across naturally level plains. From here the Grand Trunk
Line led to Denver, the capital of Colorado State, rich in gold and
silver mines, and boasting more than fifty thousand inhabitants.

Three days and three nights had now been passed