At twenty minutes of noon, the foreman in the cowboy hat knocked at the door of the hut and announced that the Chinese crews were at last ready for the final blasting. When Collis and Charles stepped outside, there was a festive atmosphere around, and the workers who were assembled around the mouth of the tunnel were laughing and joking and talking excitedly. Boring the Summit Tunnel had been one of the hardest and most dangerous feats of civil engineering in American history, and they all knew how well they had done. Collis saw Doc Kates in the crowd, in shirtsleeves and a wide-brimmed hat, and he gave him a friendly salute.

‘How would you like to fire the charges, Mr Edmonds?’ asked the foreman. ‘The box is right over here, if you’d like to do it yourself.’

Collis shook his head. ‘I think Mr Tucker ought to have that pleasure. He’s the chief of the construction.’

A loud whistle blew in the tunnel to warn any workers who were still left inside to clear out, and then the foreman raised his arm. A hush fell over the crowd, and a photographer with a black cape over his head took a picture of them all, with their dusty britches and their muscular arms and their hands raised against the glare of the sun. Then the foreman dropped his arm, and Charles gave a grunt of satisfaction and pressed the plunger.

There was a whirr, and then silence. Somebody laughed out loud.

‘Misfire!’ called the foreman. ‘Yo Huang — you wanna get back in there and see what the hell’s gone wrong?’

A tall Chinese began to make his way across the railroad ties towards the tunnel. But Collis held the foreman’s arm and said, ‘Isn’t that kind of dangerous? Couldn’t those charges go off at any time at all?’

‘Well, sure it’s dangerous,’ said the foreman. ‘But then blasting oil always is.’

‘Then I’ll go,’ said Collis.

The foreman shook his head. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Edmonds, I can’t take that responsibility. That’s nitroglycerin in there, not brandy and cigars.’

‘You don’t have to take the responsibility,’ snapped Collis. ‘This is my railroad and I’ll do whatever I damned well choose.’

‘Collis — don’t be absurd,’ Charles said. ‘What do you know about blasting? You can’t go in there. It’s dangerous and it’s out of the question.’

‘I’m going,’ said Collis, pulling off his linen coat and handing his hat to the foreman. ‘I know enough about blasting to know that there’s probably a loose connection. A child could fix it.’

‘Collis,’ warned Charles, ‘if you attempt to go into that tunnel, I’ll have you forcibly stopped.’

Collis smiled at him. ‘No you won’t, Charles. I’m going, and that’s all there is to it.’