Earthquake in the Early Morning

the street to the book wagon. The man was carefully stacking the books in the back of the wagon. He was covered with dust and his glasses were cracked.
    â€œHey, what’s the story?” Annie asked the man.
    Jack couldn’t help smiling. Annie sounded just like the newspaper reporter.
    â€œI’m moving all the rare books to the Pavilion,” the man said.
    â€œCan we help?” asked Jack.
    â€œSure, there are only a few left by the door,” said the man. “Grab ’em! Hurry! The fires on Market Street will soon be blowing this way.”
    Jack and Annie ran into the building. Near the door were two small stacks of books.
    Jack and Annie each gathered up a stack. The books looked very old and fancy. Some even had sparkling gold on their covers.
    â€œWow,” whispered Jack.
    He and Annie carried the books outside.
    â€œCareful, please!” said the man. “All these books are treasures—ancient Bibles and hand-painted books.”

    The man carefully took the books fromJack’s and Annie’s arms and put them in the back of the wagon.
    â€œThanks,” he said, pushing his hat back. “Run home now! The fires will be here soon!”
    As the horses started up the hill, Annie waved and shouted, “Good luck!”
    â€œI bet he was the librarian,” said Jack.
    He opened his research book. He looked for a photograph of the building that had the books.
    â€œHere it is,” he said. He read aloud:
    People tried to save special things. But they did not always succeed. Rare books from a library were moved to the Pavilion building. When the Pavilion building caught fire, all the books burned. The building that originally held them did not burn at all.
    â€œOh no!” cried Jack. “Stop! Stop!”
    Clutching the research book, he ran after the wagon. Annie ran with him.
    â€œStop! Stop!” they both yelled. They ran as fast as they could over the broken cobblestones and up the steep hill.
    Near the top, the driver finally heard them. He brought his wagon to a halt.
    â€œYou can’t go to the Pavilion!” Jack cried.
    â€œYou have to take them back to the building where they were!” said Annie.
    â€œThey won’t burn there!” said Jack, trying to catch his breath. “The building you’re taking them to is going to burn instead!”
    The driver looked at Jack and Annie as if they were crazy.
    â€œYou kids need to worry about yourselves, not these books,” he said. “Go home to your parents. I’ll take care of the library.”
    Then the man snapped his reins and went on over the hilltop.
    â€œCome back!” Jack cried.
    They watched helplessly as the wagon bumped down the street, over the rubble. Smoke billowed up from the bottom of the hill.
    â€œI can’t believe it,” Jack said. He was close to tears.
    â€œWe tried, but we couldn’t save them,” said Annie. She touched Jack’s shoulder gently.
    â€œAll those books … ” His voice trailed off.
    â€œHey,” said Annie. “Someone’s crying over there—someone with two kids. Maybe we can help
them
.”

A woman in a blue bathrobe was sitting on a crumbling stone wall. She was sobbing into her handkerchief.
    Two boys with dark hair sat next to the woman. The boys wore dusty, torn pajamas. They were both barefoot. The younger one was watching the older boy write on a rectangular piece of wood with a chunk of coal.
    Annie pulled Jack over to the family.
    â€œHi, I’m Annie,” she said.
    The two boys looked up.
    â€œI’m Peter,” said the youngest. “He’s my brother, Andrew. And she’s our aunt Mary.” He pointed to his brother, then to the woman, as he spoke.
    Aunt Mary tried to smile through her tears.
    â€œForgive me,” she said. “I’m a bit shaken up.”
    â€œWe are, too,” said Annie sympathetically.
    â€œThe house caught fire,” Peter said.
    â€œWe escaped,” said Andrew. “But we lost most of our things.”
    â€œWe’ve lost our shoes,” said Peter.
    Jack and Annie looked at the boys’ bare feet. They were cut and bleeding.

    â€œHey, my boots are just like boys’ boots,” Annie said. “One of you can wear them.”
    â€œTake mine, too,” said Jack. He and Annie started unlacing their boots.
    â€œWe can’t just
take
your boots,” said Andrew.
    â€œThen