Young Scrooge by R. L. Stine Page B

was high in the sky now, and the wintry bare trees rattled and shook as if they were shivering, too.
    My teeth were chattering by the time Prescott arrived, tromping over the deep snow in his knee boots. He was followed by Emily-Ann and Benjamin, both wearing tall fur hats, their heads down, bending into the wind. Silvery light washed down over all of us. No other light anywhere.
    I felt as if I were walking in a dream, a dream of silver light and purple shadows. I kept waiting for the ghost to appear. I kept thinking he would come and ask me if I’d learned my lesson about the Golden Rule. And I’d say, “Yes, of course, I have. I have learned a lot and I’m ready to go home.”
    Maybe that was a lie. But in my daydream, the ghost believed me and instantly took me home.
    Daydreams usually don’t come true. The ghost was nowhere to be seen. And here I was, shivering in the dark, squinting at the three kids in their black overcoats and fur hats. Desperate for them to help me.
    â€œDo you really know something about time travel?” I asked Prescott.
    He nodded. “I do. We’re going to take you to the time tunnel, Scroogeman. We’re going to send you home.”
    My chest suddenly felt tight. My heart began pounding. Should I believe him?
    I had to. I had to believe he really knew how to send me back where I belonged.
    The other two kids didn’t say a word. They kept their heads down. When they raised them, I saw the solemn expressions on their faces.
    This was serious stuff. No kidding around.
    For a moment, I felt like leaping up in the air and cheering. I had the urge to bump knuckles with all three of my new friends. But, of course, that would only confuse them. No one bumped knuckles in this time. They didn’t seem to touch at all.
    â€œFollow me,” Prescott said, his voice just above a whisper.
    We started to follow the path. No one spoke. The only sounds were the rattling of the trees, the howls of the swirling winds, and the crunch of our shoes on the snow.
    The path cut through a patch of trees and then over a wide, flat clearing. In the distance, I saw a small farmhouse, flickering orange light in one window. It vanished in the darkness as we kept moving.
    How far did we walk? I can’t tell you. My brain was spinning with thoughts about time travel and returning home.
    We came to a snow-covered rail fence and stopped. “Climb over,” Prescott instructed me. “This is Morgan’s farm. The time-travel tunnel is here. But no one ever dares go near it. Everyone in the village is afraid.”
    My heart started to pound even harder. I knew I was close now.
    I gripped the top rail and hoisted myself over the fence. The other three followed. As we started to walk again, a long, low building came into view, black against the gray-black sky. The building clung to the ground like a tunnel, and I knew this was it. This was my way home.
    I was breathing hard as we stepped up to one end of the long building. I could see a wooden doorway with crisscross slats in the center of the wall.
    â€œThis is the tunnel through time,” Prescott said in a whisper. I could barely hear him above the rush of the wind.
    â€œGood luck,” Emily-Ann murmured. Benjamin remained silent. He hung back as if he were afraid to come too close.
    â€œYou need to take a running start,” Prescott instructed me. “Lower your head and run full speed. I’ll swing the door open. Don’t stop. Run as hard as you can.”
    I nodded. “I will,” I said, my voice trembling. “Thank you. Thank you all for bringing me here.”
    Prescott placed a hand on my shoulder. “We wanted to send you where you belong,” he said. “Now go. Go fast.”
    He strode to the wide wooden door and signaled for me to run.
    I took a deep, shuddering breath. Lowered my head. And forced my legs to move. The door swung open and I ran into the blackness of the