had really been left destitute by his father.

"That boy is going to give me trouble," he muttered.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE ATTACK ON THE CIRCUS TENT.

Four weeks passed, in which Kit continued to acquit himself to the
satisfaction of the manager. His youth and pleasant face, added to his
uncommon skill, made him a favorite with the public, and being a boy
with a love of adventure he enjoyed thoroughly the constant variety of
circus life and travel.

All circus existence is not sunshine, however. There are communities
which are always dreaded by circus managers, on account of the rough and
lawless element which dominates them.

Early one morning Barlow's circus arrived at the mining town of
Coalville (as we will call it), in Pennsylvania. An afternoon
performance was given, and passed off smoothly; but in the evening a
gang of about twenty miners made their appearance, bent on mischief.

Mr. Clark, the manager, sought Mr. Barlow.

"I think we shall have trouble this evening, Mr. Barlow," he said.

"Guard against it, then. What indications have you seen?"

"A gang of twenty miners have just entered the lot. They look ugly."

"Have the canvas men on guard, and summon the razorbacks, if necessary.
Don't provoke a conflict, but be ready for one."

Mr. Clark hastily made his arrangements as quietly as possible. Near the
ticket seller lounged a body of men, strong and muscular.

These were the canvas men. Some of them looked as reckless and dangerous
as the miners, from whom a disturbance was feared.

These canvas men, whose duty it is to set up and take down the tents,
are, for the most part, a rough set. They are paid from fifteen to
twenty dollars a month and board. Their accommodations are very poor,
but as good perhaps as they are accustomed to. They are not averse to a
scrimmage, and obeyed with alacrity the directions of Mr. Clark.

The body of miners marched in procession to the ticket seller and then
halted, one serving as spokesman.

"Give us twenty tickets, boss," said the leader.

"Where is your money?" asked the ticket seller, cautiously.

"Never you mind! We're on the free list, ain't we, boys?"

"Yes, we are!" was the chorus from his followers.

"There are no deadheads admitted to the show," said the ticket agent,
firmly.

"You'll be a deadhead yourself if you ain't careful, young feller!" was
the retort.

"Keep back, men! There are others waiting for a chance to buy tickets."

"