Meanwhile, the new camps of Nevada went their humorous, turbulent, and homicidal way. Men grew wild over prospects that never had a chance to become real mines. They worked on croppings, sold and bought feet in a thousand prospects, struck it rich, went stony broke again within the month. They were in bonanza or in borrasca[8], and in either case kept their grins working. They lived in brush tents, sack tents, or dugouts, and the hard conditions never disturbed their happy-go-lucky optimism. ----- [8] The Mexicans used to say that a mine was in bonanza when its production was high, and in borrasca before the vein was struck or after it had pinched out. With the adoption of the terms by Americans, the words took on a more general application. A bonanza was then any highly profitable venture; a borrasca was the reverse.—W. M. R. ----- They shared their last pot of beans with a stranger and were gaily confident that to-morrow they would strike a pick into the glory hole. The saving grace of American humour salted all their adventures. The law in particular, when it made its belated appearance, was a merry jest. Those who dispensed it and those who dispensed with it enjoyed the joke alike. Two women in Carson quarrelled over a cow. One accused the other of milking it secretly. The jury decided that the defendant was guilty of milking the cow in the second degree. A man in Virginia City was haled before the court charged with drunkenness, which in Nevada was held to be a right guaranteed a man by the Constitution. The constable Mike whispered to the justice that the arrested man had one hundred dollars on his person. “Are youse guilty?” the judge demanded. The defendant said he was not. “You know domn well yez are. I fine yez a hundred dollars, fifty for me an’ fifty for Mike,” the Court passed judgment. Sometimes the laugh was on the Court, as in the case of a justice, very hazy as to his powers and duties, who conducted the preliminary hearing of a man charged with murder. He listened to the evidence till he was satisfied, then announced his decision. “I find you guilty and sentence you to be hanged at ten o’clock to-morrow. The constable will bring the prisoner and a rope.” Even the homicidal mania of those who lived by their wits had its momentary gleams of dreadful humour. Scot drifted into a barber shop one day and found El Dorado Johnnie having his hair curled. The youth in the chair was dressed in new clothes. His boots had been polished. He was shaved and perfumed. “Going to your wedding, Johnnie?” the faro dealer asked. “No, sir,” replied the other. “‘Farmer’ Peel has give out that he’s gunnin’ for me. If I’m elected as the corpse I want to look nice.”