The battle had become too basic for morals or visions to count for anything. It was now a battle for financial survival. What was more, Abraham Lincoln, who had enthusiastically supported the Pacific railroad from the beginning, was up for re-election in November; and while Collis didn’t doubt that he would win, especially after Gettysburg, he was too cynical to trust the whole of his five-million-dollar debt to whims of the federal electorate. Better to take advantage of Lincoln’s amenable presence in the White House right now than to risk having to deal with a McClellanite or a War Democrat in the new year.

The partners met in the living-room above 54 K Street on a chilly evening in March. Charles and Collis laid out all the company’s accounts on the floor, and the four of them smoked and argued and drank bourbon until eight o’clock at night.

Collis, in his shirtsleeves, said, ‘There’s nothing left to do. I’m going to have to travel to Washington again and see if I can’t have this forty-mile qualification reduced.’

Andy Hunt pointed to the accounts books. ‘Even if you do that, you still won’t be able to raise enough money to carry on. It’s over thirty miles to the Sierra foothills from Sacramento, and because the land is dead flat, we only get a federal loan of sixteen thousand dollars a mile. That’s hardly going to cover our wages bill.’

‘At least we’ll have a chance,’ said Collis. ‘I reckon I can still raise enough personal credit to lay another fifteen or sixteen miles of track.’

‘And then what?’ said Andy.

Leland, deep in his armchair with a large glass of whisky, gave a sage and patronising nod. ‘Andy’s right, Collis. We could build forty miles of track and what possible good could it do us? We’d only get sixteen thousand dollars a mile for the greater part of it, and the way our finances are going, that just doesn’t make economic sense.’

Collis stood up and walked to the window. Outside, on K Street, a wagon was being loaded with fencing wire from the store downstairs, which was still open. He could see Kwang Lee talking to a tall rangy farmer. The night air was thick with dancing moths.

Suddenly, he turned around to Leland. ‘Don’t I remember someone saying somewhere that the base of the Rockies is located somewhere on the banks of the Mississippi — because of the rock and soil formations they found there?’

Leland shrugged. ‘Maybe you do. So what? It just sounds like one of those preposterous scientific oddities to me.’

‘Maybe it is,’ said Collis. ‘But maybe it could help us, too. You’re the governor of California, Leland. Supposing the state geologist was to be obliging enough to say that the base of the Sierras was somewhere rather further to the West than it actually appears to be?’