“Just a moment,” I said. “We have to care for the injured.” That wasn’t easy with the bus careening down the streets. The mad race my first day in the city had been a stately procession in comparison.

“Go on and pass out the candy, Verity,” Lizzie said. “I can deal with the rest.”

The bus swayed so wildly that I could barely stay on my feet by hanging on to the hand straps as I made my way up the aisle to the stash. I distributed the candy, then waited until we were on a straightaway before passing the bag through the back window to a woman in the rear car.

As we approached the block where we’d picked up the children that morning, Alec sounded a long blast on the engine’s whistle. Even before the bus stopped, Colin jumped off and climbed up behind Alec on the engine. A crowd formed as people drifted out of alleys and buildings or came from nearby streets to find out what the noise was.

From my position kneeling on the floor by the wounded, I could see Colin through the front windows of the bus. He took off his hat and waved it for emphasis as he spoke in a dramatic oratorical fashion that wouldn’t have been out of place in a revivalist’s pulpit. “My good friends and fellow citizens,” he began. “We hoped to do some good today by using our machine to take your children out for an innocent picnic and a chance to play in fresh air and sunshine.

“But the British wouldn’t allow that. British troops fired on your children!” He paused to allow the gasps of shock and outraged shouts to work their way through the crowd before continuing. “We’re returning the healthy children to you. We’ll take the wounded to our doctors. If your children are among the wounded, you may come with us.”

He tapped on the window, and Lizzie told the uninjured children to go home. Anxious parents boarded the bus, though there were far fewer parents than wounded children.

Colin addressed what was left of the crowd. “Those cowards who fear children are marching up Broadway even now to remind us how mighty they are. After we tend the wounded, we’ll meet them at Eighth Street to make them account for what they’ve done. Come with us now if you want to make your voice heard.”

A few of the older boys boarded the bus, and several young women and a couple of young men followed them. I spotted Mick on the engine, waving a red kerchief over his head. The rest of the people scurried back into their buildings and alleyways. Colin jumped off the engine and boarded the bus as it began moving uptown again. “Humph,” he snorted. “What a bunch of mindless sheep.”