‘Hmmm,’ said Andrew Hunt, ‘I wish I could. The problem is, my room is right next to the goddam water closet, and every time I’m right on the edge of nodding off, somebody decides to do their party imitation of Niagara Falls.’

‘Have you seen the train outside?’ said Collis. ‘I was thinking of going across to take a closer look.’

‘Haven’t you ever seen a train before?’

‘Of course. But not this close. I always kept away from the railroad tracks in New York to keep from frightening the horses.’

Andrew beckoned the barkeep over and asked for a bourbon and a refill for Collis. ‘I’ll tell you something,’ he said, leaning his elbows on the bar and taking a good hard swig, which he swilled around his teeth. ‘The railroad train is where the money is, and that’s for sure. One day, somebody’s going to be smart enough to lay down a railroad all the way from San Francisco to St Louis, and that somebody’s going to make himself richer than Crease-ass.’

‘Who?’

‘What’s the matter with you society people? Don’t they give you a decent education? King Crease-ass, that’s who I’m taking about, and that’s who you and me could be like if we had the brains, and the backing. Look at this goddam Panama Railroad. How long does it take you to get to Panama? Six hours at the worst. And how much do the bastards charge for it? Twenty-five dollars in gold. By my reckoning, that’s better than four dollars an hour, per person, in gold. Think what the hell you could charge for a straight railroad ride across to California, or back again, without ever having to set foot on a steamer, or come anywhere near this goddam jungle.’

The barkeep set down their drinks. ‘I’ve already drunk half a bottle of wine,’ Collis said. ‘I don’t want to get paralytic.’

‘Drink it,’ said Andrew. ‘Bourbon is the best preventive for yellow fever there is, that and a little mustard. Barman, do you have some mustard? Mootard?’

The barkeep shook his head.

‘They’re all the damned same,’ complained Andrew. ‘They’d like to see you catch sick, and wind up with your legs sticking up in the air; that’s what they’d like. And they get the pleasure of it often enough. There’s consumption and smallpox and cholera and malaria and yellow jack around here, just about enough of it to wipe out half of Carolina, and a good piece of Virginia besides.’

‘Don’t they get sick themselves, living in this pesthole?’

‘Sure they do. But you only get the yellow fever once. Usually, you die. But if you don’t die, then you never get it again. Mind you, immunity to yellow fever don’t protect you from cholera, or anything else.’

Collis drank his bourbon as if it were medicine. It made him feel more lightheaded than he wanted to be, and nauseated, but anything was better than catching some fatal tropical disease.