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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.

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