"Let 'em wait! Just hand over them tickets, or we'll run over you."
The fellow looked so dangerous that the ticket seller saw there was no time to parley.
He raised the well-known circus cry, which is called out in times of danger, like a summons to arms,
"Hey, Rube!"
Instantly the canvas men and razorbacks rushed to the rescue, and made an impetuous attack on the disorderly crowd of miners. They, too, were aching for a fight, and there was a wild scene of battle, in which, as in the ancient days, the opposing forces fought hand to hand.
The canvas men were strong, but so were the miners. Their muscles were toughened by daily toil, and it looked as if the outsiders might win.
Kit was not of course called upon to take part in the contest, but he was unwillingly involved.
One of the miners detached himself from the main body, and creeping stealthily to the big tent, whipped out a large knife, and was on the point of cutting one of the ropes, his intention being to sever one after another till the big tent collapsed. Kit saw his design, and rushing forward seized his arm.
"Hold on there!" he cried. "What are you about?"
"Let me alone, and mind your own business!" returned the miner, in a hoarse, deep voice.