l about
leaving parcels in public places, and, incidentally, to let other
people's packages severely alone.

THE CAPTURE OF FATHER TIME

Jim was the son of a cowboy, and lived on the broad plains of
Arizona. His father had trained him to lasso a bronco or a young
bull with perfect accuracy, and had Jim possessed the strength to
back up his skill he would have been as good a cowboy as any in all
Arizona.

When he was twelve years old he made his first visit to the east,
where Uncle Charles, his father's brother, lived. Of course Jim took
his lasso with him, for he was proud of his skill in casting it, and
wanted to show his cousins what a cowboy could do.

At first the city boys and girls were much interested in watching
Jim lasso posts and fence pickets, but they soon tired of it, and
even Jim decided it was not the right sort of sport for cities.

But one day the butcher asked Jim to ride one of his horses into the
country, to a pasture that had been engaged, and Jim eagerly
consented. He had been longing for a horseback ride, and to make it
seem like old times he took his lasso with him.

He rode through the streets demurely enough, but on reaching the
open country roads his spirits broke forth into wild jubilation,
and, urging the butcher's horse to full gallop, he dashed away in
true cowboy fashion.

Then he wanted still more liberty, and letting down the bars that
led into a big field he began riding over the meadow and throwing
his lasso at imaginary cattle, while he yelled and whooped to his
heart's content.

Suddenly, on making a long cast with his lasso, the loop caught upon
something and rested about three feet from the ground, while the
rope drew taut and nearly pulled Jim from his horse.

This was unexpected. More than that, it was wonderful; for the field
seemed bare of even a stump. Jim's eyes grew big with amazement, but
he knew he had caught something when a voice cried out:

"Here, let go! Let go, I say! Can't you see what you've done?"

No, Jim couldn't see, nor did he intend to let go until he found out
what was holding the loop of the lasso. So he resorted to an old
trick his father had taught him and, putting the butcher's horse to
a run, began riding in a circle around the spot where his lasso had
caught.

As he thus drew nearer and nearer his quarry he saw the rope coil
up, yet it looked to be coiling over nothing but air. One end of the
lasso was made fast to a ring in th