"
"Indeed I do," replied Father Time, with a sigh. "I'm due in
Kamchatka this very minute. And to think one small boy is upsetting
all my regular habits!"
"Too bad!" said Jim, with a grin. "But since the world has stopped
anyhow, it won't matter if it takes a little longer recess. As soon
as I let you go Time will fly again. Where are your wings?"
"I haven't any," answered the old man. "That is a story cooked up by
some one who never saw me. As a matter of fact, I move rather
slowly."
"I see, you take your time," remarked the boy. "What do you use that
scythe for?"
"To mow down the people," said the ancient one. "Every time I swing
my scythe some one dies."
"Then I ought to win a life-saving medal by keeping you tied up,"
said Jim. "Some folks will live this much longer."
"But they won't know it," said Father Time, with a sad smile; "so it
will do them no good. You may as well untie me at once."
"No," said Jim, with a determined air. "I may never capture you
again; so I'll hold you for awhile and see how the world wags
without you."
Then he swung the old man, bound as he was, upon the back of the
butcher's horse, and, getting into the saddle himself, started back
toward town, one hand holding his prisoner and the other guiding the
reins.
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