“No,” Matt said. “He even gave you his socks, didn’t he, Katie?” But as Matt looked down at his little sister, he saw a large circle of blood seeping through her tights at her ankle. “Oh, no, Katie! You’re bleeding!”

  Katie immediately began to sob.

  Q reached into his pocket for the clean cloth handkerchief that his mother always insisted he carry. Matt wiped away Katie’s tears, then tied it around her ankle. “It’s a pretty bad cut,” he said. Then he wrapped his arms around Katie to keep her warm.

  “We’ve all got to get out of this cold,” Emma said through chattering teeth.

  “She’s right,” Tony said. “And once it gets dark, it’s going to get even colder. We’ll all freeze to death out here.”

  “Tony, quit exaggerating,” Hooter snapped. “Okay, it’s cold, but nobody is going to freeze to death. Are they, Q?”

  All eyes were on Q as he adjusted his glasses. “It takes three hours,” he said.

  “What do you mean, three hours?” Hooter asked.

  “The normal internal temperature of the human body is ninety-eight point six,” Q explained. “Hypothermia occurs when the body’s core temperature drops to ninety-four or less, which takes approximately three hours. And it seems exceedingly possible in this situation.”

  A frosty gloom descended over the group.

  “Let’s just hurry and get to dry land,” Matt ordered. He and Lily each took an oar and began to row. Minutes later, they were nearing the river’s edge when a high-pitched howl ripped across the chilled water.

  “What was that?” Katie cried.

  “Sounded like a cat,” Matt whispered.

  “My cat, Muffin, never sounded like that,” whispered Hooter.

  “It sounded more like a wolf,” Q said, nervously adjusting his glasses.

  Nobody moved as the boat drifted into the dark shadows along the water’s edge. A sharp breeze whistled through the towering spruce trees along the shoreline, and another piercing howl echoed from a distance.

  When the boat got to shore, the boys and the twins pulled it onto solid ground.

  “Tony, you’re the scout,” Hooter said. “Why don’t you hike over to that mill and scout around to see if anyone is in there?”

  “Go out there alone? With wild wolves running around? Are you crazy?” Tony balked.

  “Tony’s right,” Matt said. “We should probably stick together.”

  Katie yelped in pain as she tried to stand. “I can’t walk!” she cried. “My ankle hurts too much.”

  Lily and Emma helped her out of the boat, but she let out an agonized cry each time she tried to put weight on her foot.

  “I think she must have sprained it,” Lily said, looking at Katie’s swollen ankle.

  “We’ll have to go for help,” Matt decided. “You girls stay here with her. Just huddle together to stay warm.”

  The girls helped Katie over to a large log, and they held her on their laps. Just as the boys turned to leave, there was a flash of light — then a loud hissing sound. Water sprayed in a wide arc. The children spun around and watched in horror as the old blue rowboat vanished into an eerie blue mist.

  They hurried back to the river’s edge and looked around. They all stared in stunned silence. Without the boat, there was no way home. And the boat was nowhere in sight.

  “WE’LL GO AND FIND SOMEONE WHO CAN HELP us right away!” Matt cried.

  “But what if something happens to you?” Emma wailed.

  “Whatever you do, don’t you girls leave this spot until we get back,” Matt told them. “Or we may never find each other again.”

  “Don’t go! Please don’t go, Mattie-o,” Katie cried. That was the name she gave Matt when she was a baby and couldn’t say Matthew.

  “Katie, you’ve got to let us go,” Matt said.

  “Here, take this with you, then,” Katie said, handing him her little pink flashlight.

  Matt shoved it into his pocket. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “We’ll be right back.”

  Lily grabbed hold of his arm with a look of panic. “Promise?” she said.

  “We promise,” Matt answered.

  Matt led the way onto a path that cut through the thick brush, with the boys following close behind. The farther they went, the denser the woods became. Tree branches creaked and moaned as they bent with the wind. There was a sudden rapid beating of wings as something flew down low, just over their heads. Matt shuddered.

  The path quickly split in two.

  “Which way do we go?” Hooter asked.

  “I don’t know,” Matt said. “I don’t see any houses.”

  Tony took his spyglass from his pocket and brought it up to his eye. He pointed the glass down one path and then down the other. “It all looks the same,” he sighed.

  “What do you think, Q? You’ve got the superior brain,” Hooter said.

  They waited as Q adjusted his glasses, then thoughtfully studied each path. He held up his finger, as if testing the wind. Finally, he put his hand back into his pocket.

  “I say we flip for it,” he announced.

  “Some superior brain,” Hooter grumbled.

  Matt led the boys on the path to the right. They walked and walked before the stone building they had seen from the distance came into view.

  They followed Matt up the wooden steps to a narrow porch. He knocked on the wide plank door. Minutes later the door opened, and an old man with a straggly gray beard stood before them. He wore a long green coat and brown trousers that were gathered with raggedy black ribbons at his knees. His clothes stank of sweat, and rum, and something gone sour.

  “The miller will do no more business this day,” the old man said gruffly. “The redcoats have locked him up for taxes owed.” And before Matt could stop him, he slammed the door shut!

  “Did you hear the way he talked?” Matt asked, his face turning pale.

  “And did you see his old-fashioned clothes?” Tony added.

  Matt knocked on the door once more. “Excuse me, sir,” he said when the old man reappeared. “My little sister is hurt and we need help.”

  The old man’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the boys’ colorful down vests and sneakers. “Where have you lads come from? Why are you dressed so strangely?”

  Hooter was about to answer when Matt spoke up. “We’re not from here. We’re lost. If you could just tell us where we are …”

  “Why, you’re at Sutton’s Mill a ways outside of Boston town,” the old man said suspiciously.

  The boys glanced at one another and cringed.

  “And the date?” Matt asked. “We kind of lost track of time.”

  The old man glowered at him. “’Tis the end of February.”

  “And the year?” Matt asked slowly.

  “What fool does not know the year? Why, ’tis 1776!” the old man snapped.

  Matt shut his eyes tight. It couldn’t be true.

  “I’ve no time to waste on such nonsense,” the old man muttered, and started to close the door.

  “Wait!” Matt cried. “I need to get my sister to a doctor. Do you think you could help us?”

  But the old man shook his head no. “The nearest physician was hung as a rebel spy last month.” Then he looked sharply at the boys. “So tell me, are your families warm to the colonies’ cause, or are they tender of the English?” His piercing green eyes seemed to look right through them.

  “Our families are Americans,” Matt assured him. “Americans, through and through.”

  “My uncle is in the army,” Tony piped up. “He is the most patriotic person I know.”

  “Ah, Patriots.” The old man’s voice softened. “And what colony do you Patriots call home?”

  “Nebraska,” Hooter blurted out, before the others could stop him.

  The old man cocked his head and ran his fingers thoughtfully through his beard. “What is this place, Nebraska?” he asked. “I know of no such colony.”

  “Nebraska wasn’t admitted to the Union until 1867,” Q whispered under his breath, stepping hard on Hooter’s foot.

  “We’re from the west. We’re not a colony yet,” Q hurried to explain.

  “It’s getting darker and colder. And we have nowhere to stay,” Tony blurted out.

  “And my sister is hurt,” added Matt.

  “Is the girl in grave danger?” the old man asked.

  “I don’t know,” Matt said. “She’s cut her foot pretty bad.”

  “You’ll have to look elsewhere,” the old fellow barked. “And heed my advice, lads. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay far away from this mill.” With that, he slammed the door shut once more.

  There was nothing left for the boys to do but to turn around and go back down the steps.

  “Well, we’ve done it again,” Tony whispered. “We’ve gone back to the Revolutionary War!”

  “And if this is February 1776, that means that we went back earlier in time than our last trip,” Matt pointed out.

  “Ten months earlier, to be exact,” Q said, having done a quick calculation in his head, “which means the British are in Boston, and Washington and his men will soon be at Dorchester Heights!”

  There was a sudden loud snapping of twigs behind them, but when the boys turned back to look, no one was there. It was then that Matt spotted a beam of light coming from a crack in a boarded-up window in the bottom floor of the mill.

  “Maybe there’s someone else down there who could help us,” he whispered.

  “The old guy made it pretty clear we weren’t supposed to hang around,” Hooter said.

  “I’m just going to have a look,” Matt said, going up to the building. He peered through a crack in the boarded-up window. “Oh, my gosh!” he gasped.

  “What is it?” Hooter whispered.

  “It looks like guns!” Matt exclaimed. “Lots and lots of guns! And cannons, too!”

  “What are cannons and guns doing in a gristmill?” Q wondered aloud.

  The crunch of footsteps again sounded behind them. Matt spun around just in time to see a rough-faced man grab hold of Q and bring a knife up to his neck! Seconds later, three other men stepped out of the shadows. There were muskets in their hands and tomahawks in their belts! They started for the boys.

  “You were warned to stay away,” one of the men growled. “You should have heeded that warning, and you might have lived.”

  THE MINUTES DRAGGED ON AS THE GIRLS huddled together, trying to keep warm. The wind picked up, and dark clouds moved across the chalky gray sky. Emma kept her eyes on the river, praying that the boat would return, while Lily scanned the woods, keeping a sharp lookout for the boys.

  Katie cried for her mother, then for Matt. Lily tried to comfort her, rubbing the little girl’s reddened fingers in her own frozen hands. As Lily looked around at the strange, overgrown landscape, she wondered where they were and how far back in time they had gone. Everything was so strange and beyond belief, except for the numbing cold. That she knew to be real. Her fingers and toes were freezing, and Katie’s nose was turning bright red before her eyes.

  Lily thought about what Q had said, how a person could freeze to death in just three hours. She watched Emma flip open her phone for the hundredth time, hoping to have her signal return. But her sister’s face crumpled once again at the sight of the words: OUT OF RANGE.

  The loud screech of a raven echoed from across the dark water.

  “What else do you have in your pocketbook?” Lily asked her sister.

  “Why?” Emma asked.

  “For survival,” Lily told her.

  “I’ve only got my phone and this,” Emma said, holding up the bottle of red nail polish.

  “Oh, great!” Lily groaned. “At least our nails will look good when we get eaten by wolves.”

  “What wolves?” Katie asked in a small voice.

  “Don’t mind her,” Emma said. “She didn’t mean it, did you, Lily?”

  Lily saw the terror in Katie’s face and was instantly sorry for what she’d said.

  “Matt and the boys will be back any minute,” she said, trying to smile at Katie and calm her down. Katie smiled back, but a sudden gust of wind whipped at their hair and set their teeth chattering harder than ever.

  “Where could they be?” Emma wondered aloud.

  “I don’t know, but we can’t wait out here much longer in this cold weather. We’ll have to go look for them,” said Lily, fear edging into her voice.

  The twins helped Katie stand, and the three started for the path the boys had taken. It was slow going as they took turns carrying Katie over the rough ground. Moving quickly helped them to warm up. But the farther into the woods they went, the darker and colder it grew.

  “Matt, where are you?” Lily shouted into the shadows.

  “Hooter! Tony! Q!” Emma called.

  The only reply was the sound of a squirrel racing over the branches of a pine tree. Something stirred in a tangle of brown vines overhead. Lily bit down on her lip and continued on until they came to the sudden split in the path.

  “Please let this be the way they went,” she prayed aloud, steering them to the left. They slowly made their way along the rock-strewn frozen ground. Lily was desperate to find Matt and the boys, but they were nowhere in sight. Katie groaned with each step they took. Finally, just when they thought she could go no farther, they spotted smoke in the distance! A wave of relief washed over them at the sight of the stone houses and clapboard shops that flanked a street.

  But the girls soon discovered that the street was not like any they’d ever been on back home. It was not made of asphalt, but of cobblestones that were hard to walk on, and they had to navigate their way around piles of steaming horse manure.

  They passed ropes and rigging that were strung before a sail shop and a bloody pig’s head that hung from a butcher’s iron hook outside his window. A gaggle of geese pecked at the ground, while a small boy in a blue wool coat and red cap pulled a cow by a rope. Thick smoke poured out of the stout chimneys, and the stench of ripe manure mingled with the smell of wood smoke in the frigid air.

  “It looks like Star Village, that reenactment place we went to last summer with Mom and Dad,” Emma said.

  “Only that place had a parking lot full of cars,” Lily said, nodding toward a horse and wagon tied to a hitching post.

  As they neared the boy with the cow, Emma slipped her phone into her purse and called to him. “Have you seen four boys?”

  The boy shook his head no and kept on walking.

  Next, Lily tried knocking on the door of a house. A haggard young woman in a long dress and apron appeared at the door with a baby in her arms. Lily was instantly taken aback by the bad smells that wafted outside. “Excuse me,” she said. “We were wondering if you could help us.”

  The woman’s thick dark eyebrows arched as she looked the girls over. “I have hardly enough to feed my own children without giving away what little I have to gypsies like you. Why don’t you sell the gems you’re wearing in your ears if you want to eat?” And without another word, she slammed the door shut.

  Lily and the girls moved on down the street, confused by the woman’s rudeness.

  “Push off!” they heard a man holler at some noisy geese. A squealing piglet trotted past. The man was standing with his head and hands locked in a wooden frame, his teeth chattering in the cold.

  “Why is that man standing there like that?” Katie asked.

  “He’s in stocks,” Lily told her. “We read about them in class. They used to lock people up in stocks when they did bad things and broke the law.”

  “What mischief are you three up to?” the man barked.

  Lily took a tentative step forward. “We’re looking for four boys. Have you seen them?”

  “Maybe,” the man replied with a cruel smile. “Maybe I saw them hop a wagon and head down this very street. Then again, maybe I didn’t.” As he laughed hoarsely, a stream of spittle hung from his lower lip.

  Lily almost fell over backward trying to get away from him.

  “Can you tell us where we are?” Emma asked.

  “You’re in Boston town, lass, home of the unforgiving,” the man replied with a sarcastic sneer.

  “And the year?” Emma pressed. “Can you tell us what year it is?”

  “I may have emptied my neighbor’s jug of ale, but I can still remember the yar,” said the man, slurring his words. “’Tis 1776. And those cursed lobsterbacks are sleeping in our beds, stealing our food, and using our tombstones for target practice,” he added with a scowl.

  “Lobsterbacks?” Emma repeated.

  “Redcoats!” The man spit on the ground. “The British dogs who have imprisoned us in our own city.”

  Lily and Emma grabbed hold of Katie and took off down the frozen footpath.

  “Oh, my gosh!” Emma said, staring at the brick houses and shops around her. “Did you hear what year he said it was?”

  But her words were drowned out by the sudden loud beat of a drum and the echo of boots stamping on the hard cobblestones. A brigade of soldiers in bright red uniforms came marching up the road toward them!

  The girls instinctively drew back as the lines of redcoats filled the street.

  “Halt!” an officer shouted.

  The soldiers froze in place.

  “At ease!” he said.

  The men lowered their heavy muskets, and with heads tilting and shoulders sagging, they broke formation. They stood talking in small groups, when one of the men fitted his musket with a bayonet and drove it into the head of the pig that hung before the butcher’s shop. He lifted the horrible-looking thing into the air and swung it around. The animal’s dulled, glassy eyes stared straight ahead, and its mouth hung dumbly open.

  “See here, lads,” he shouted. “It’s George Washington’s head I’ve got!” His comrades roared with laughter.

  “And right where it belongs, too, on the end of an English blade!” another shouted.

  “Huzzah! Huzzah!” the men cheered.

  The girls backed away in horror, the harsh cry of the soldiers’ voices ringing in their ears. They turned down one winding street and then another, feeling as if they had been swallowed up in a labyrinth of cobblestones. A sharp wind blew back the fake fur on their coats and chilled them to the bone.