“Anyway,” he laughed, “I’m living longer than anyone else.  No one will ever be able to catch up with me again.”

“Each life has its allotted span,” said the old man.  “When you have lived your proper time my scythe will mow you down.”

“I forgot your scythe,” said Jim, thoughtfully.

Then a spirit of mischief came into the boy’s head, for he happened to think that the present opportunity to have fun would never occur again.  He tied Father Time to his uncle’s hitching post, that he might not escape, and then crossed the road to the corner grocery.

The grocer had scolded Jim that very morning for stepping into a basket of turnips by accident.  So the boy went to the back end of the grocery and turned on the faucet of the molasses barrel.

“That’ll make a nice mess when Time starts the molasses running all over the floor,” said Jim, with a laugh.

A little further down the street was a barber shop, and sitting in the barber’s chair Jim saw the man that all the boys declared was the “meanest man in town.”  He certainly did not like the boys and the boys knew it.  The barber was in the act of shampooing this person when Time was captured.  Jim ran to the drug store, and, getting a bottle of mucilage, he returned and poured it over the ruffled hair of the unpopular citizen.

“That’ll probably surprise him when he wakes up,” thought Jim.

Near by was the schoolhouse.  Jim entered it and found that only a few of the pupils were assembled.  But the teacher sat at his desk, stern and frowning as usual.

Taking a piece of chalk, Jim marked upon the blackboard in big letters the following words: 

“Every scholar is requested to yell the minute he enters the room.  He will also please throw his books at the teacher’s head.  Signed, Prof.  Sharpe.”

“That ought to raise a nice rumpus,” murmured the mischiefmaker, as he walked away.

On the corner stood Policeman Mulligan, talking with old Miss Scrapple, the worst gossip in town, who always delighted in saying something disagreeable about her neighbors.  Jim thought this opportunity was too good to lose.  So he took off the policeman’s cap and brass-buttoned coat and put them on Miss Scrapple, while the lady’s feathered and ribboned hat he placed jauntily upon the policeman’s head.

The effect was so comical that the boy laughed aloud, and as a good many people were standing near the corner Jim decided that Miss Scrapple and Officer Mulligan would create a sensation when Time started upon his travels.

Then the young cowboy remembered his prisoner, and, walking back to the hitching post, he came within three feet of it and saw Father Time still standing patiently within the toils of the lasso.  He looked angry and annoyed, however, and growled out: 

“Well, when do you intend to release me?”

“I’ve been thinking about that ugly scythe of yours,” said Jim.