The country between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very hilly.The Central Pacific，taking Sacramento for its starting-point，extends eastwards to meet the road from Omaha.The line from San Francisco to Sacramento runs in a north-easterly direction，along the American River，which empties into San Pablo Bay.The one hundred and twenty miles between these cities were accomplished in six hours，and towards midnight，while fast asleep，the travellers passed through Sacramento；so that they saw nothing of that important place，the seat of the State government，with its fine quays，its broad streets，its noble hotels，squares and churches.
The train，on leaving Sacramento，and passing the junction，Roclin，Auburn，and Colfax，entered the range of the Sierra Nevada.Cisco was reached at seven in the morning；and an hour later the dormitory was transformed into an ordinary car，and the travellers could observe the picturesque beauties of the mountain region through which they were steaming.The railway track wound in and out among the passes，now approaching the mountain sides，now suspended over precipices，avoiding abrupt angles by bold curves，plunging into narrow defiles，which seemed to have no outlet.The locomotive，its great funnel emitting a weird light，with its sharp bell，and its cow-catcher extended like a spur，mingled its shrieks and bellowings with the noise of torrents and cascades，and twined its smoke among the branches of the gigantic pines.
There were few or no bridges or tunnels on the route.The railway turned around the sides of the mountains，and did not attempt to violate nature by taking the shortest cut from one point to another.
The train entered the State of Nevada through the Carson valley about nine o'clock，going always north-easterly；and at midday reached Reno，where there was a delay of twenty minutes for breakfast.
From this point the road，running along Humboldt River，passed northward for several miles by its banks；then it turned eastward，and kept by the river until it reached the Humboldt Range，nearly at the extreme eastern limit of Nevada.
Having breakfasted，Mr Fogg and his companions resumed their places in the car，and observed the varied landscape which unfolded itself as they passed along；the vast prairies，the mountains lining the horizon，and the creeks with their frothy，foaming streams.Sometimes a great herd of buffaloes，massing together in the distance，seemed like a movable dam.These innumerable multitudes of ruminating beasts often form an insurmountable obstacle to the passage of the trains；thousands of them have been seen passing over the track for hours together，in compact ranks.The locomotive is then forced to stop and wait till the road is once more clear.
This happened，indeed，to the train in which Mr Fogg was travelling.About twelve o'clock a troop of ten or twelve thousand head of buffalo encumbered the track.The locomotive，slackening its speed，tried to clear the way with its cow-catcher；but the mass of animals was too great.The buffaloes marched along with a tranquil gait，uttering now and then deafening bellowings.There was no use of interrupting them，for，having taken a particular direction，nothing can moderate and change their course；it is a torrent of living flesh which no dam could contain.
The travellers gazed on this curious spectacle from the platforms；but Phileas Fogg，who had the most reason of all to be in a hurry，remained in his seat，and waited philosophically until it should please the buffaloes to get out of the way.
Passepartout was furious at the delay they occasioned，and longed to discharge his arsenal of revolvers upon them.
What a country！cried he.Mere cattle stop the trains，and go by in a procession，just as if they were not impeding travel！Parbleu！I should like to know if Mr Fogg foresaw this mishap in his programme！And here's an engineer who doesn't dare to run the locomotive into this herd of beasts！
The engineer did not try to overcome the obstacle，and he was wise.He would have crushed the first buffaloes，no doubt，with the cow-catcher；but the locomotive，however powerful，would soon have been checked，the train would inevitably have been thrown off the track，and would then have been helpless.
The best course was to wait patiently，and regain the lost time by greater speed when the obstacle was removed.The procession of buffaloes lasted three full hours，and it was night before the track was clear.The last ranks of the herd were now passing over the rails，while the first had already disappeared below the southern horizon.
It was eight o'clock when the train passed through the defiles of the Humboldt Range，and half-past nine when it penetrated Utah，the region of the Great Salt Lake，the singular colony of the Mormons.