“Where was that row just now?” said the policeman. The question was addressed to a wall-eyed young hoodlum, who, with hands thrust nearly to his knees in his breeches pockets, lounged against a lamp-post.
“Ro-o-ow?” listlessly drawled the short-haired youth. “I hain’t seen nuthin’ of no row.”
“You hain’t?” said the policeman, eyeing the young gentleman over.
“N-o; I hain’t!” reiterated the fellow, with a sneering Bowery drawl. “Do yer sup-pose I’d be a loafin’ here if ther’ was any row a-goin? Not much!”
“I was told down street,” said the policeman, “that there was a regular row in one of the shebangs up this way. Now I want to know where it was—do you understand?”
“Wa-all, I dunno, but I guess maybe ther’ mout a bin a little misunderstandin’ or sumpthin’ o’ that sort in at Broncho Sall’s saloon. ’Bout a minit or so ago I seed Wasatch Sam roll out ’er thare and seed him spit out some feller’s ear, as he went ’long by here; but I don’t reckon there’s bin any pertickler row—hain’t seed nuthin’ o’ none.”
The same policeman one night heard a sound of scuffling in a Barbary Coast “dive” and ran in to see was what going on. As he entered the place, he saw two men struggling upon the floor. The uppermost man arose from the prostrate and bleeding form of his antagonist as the policeman approached, and said: “I’m a quiet man, a man who wouldn’t harm a fly, but when I’m crowded too far, I will remonstrate!” whereupon he spat out the nose of the man who was lying on the floor.
Curious characters are frequently encountered in towns of the silver-mines—queer customers from all parts of the world. A few drinks generally bring out the peculiarities of these men. One day an odd-looking, wiry old chap, evidently from some ranch in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and apparently a man rich in flocks and herds, made his way to the bar of one of the first-class two-bit saloons of Virginia City. His “keg” was evidently “full” to overflowing, yet he was still athirst. Cocking one eye upon the bar-keeper and the other on the array of bottles before him, he thrust his right hand deep into his breeches’ pocket and there stirred up a stunning jingle of coin. Turning to a gentleman standing near, the little old man said: “Stranger, excuse me, but will yer jine in a drink?”
“Please excuse me, sir,” said the gentleman addressed, “I’ve just drank.”
“Stand another, can’t yer?”