Frémont gave a vague smile. He seemed to be thinking about something else. ‘I got most of my party out alive, thank God. And we did find a route for a railroad, the Buffalo Trail. But they were hard times. Very hard times.’

‘Is the railroad going to be built?’ asked Collis carefully.

‘What?’ asked Frémont. ‘Built? Well, yes. All in good time. Congress has to budget money, and agree to apportion land. Then the way must be surveyed, and cleared, and the tracks laid. But I wouldn’t be surprised if trains are running to and fro across America on the Buffalo Trail before I go to meet my Maker at last. And if they name one of those Rocky Mountain passes after me, well, I shan’t be displeased.’

He stroked his beard some more, and nodded. Then he realised he wasn’t being particularly attentive to his guests, and he looked up at Collis and asked, ‘But how about your railroad? You must tell me something about it. Sacramento, you say. Is it connected with the Sacramento Valley line? What are you building? A branch of some kind?’

‘No, sir,’ said Collis. ‘Nothing quite as modest as that.’

‘Then let me guess. You’re going to connect up Oakland and Sacramento by rail.’

Collis shook his head. ‘Wrong direction. I want to build a road from Sacramento eastward, across the Sierras to Salt Lake City, and maybe further, to Laramie, and eastward on the Forty-first Parallel to Omaha, Nebraska.’

Laurence Melford gave a dismissive snort, and even John Frémont seemed wary. He looked at Collis with his head tilted to one side, as if to make certain that Collis was neither a crank, nor a joker, and it took him a long time to make his reply.

‘Well, Mr Edmonds,’ he said after a while, ‘that’s a very ambitious idea. But, if you don’t think I’m being rude, where is your expertise? Are you an engineer, or a topographer?’

‘No,’ said Collis.

‘Well, then, do you have friends in Congress? Do you have wealth?’

‘Not much of the latter, Mr Frémont, and not very many of the former.’

‘Then, my dear fellow,’ said John Frémont, ‘I regret to say that you can never succeed. I can understand your ambition. I sympathise with your motives. I don’t necessarily agree with your route. But, all these things apart, you just don’t have the wherewithal to get a railroad of thirty miles started, let alone three thousand.’