Twister on Tuesday

wide, open prairie. Green grass and wildflowers swayed in a chilly wind.
    In the distance, a train puffed across the prairie. Sparks of fire came out of its smokestack. Huge clouds of black smoke billowed into the gray sky.
    â€œWow,” said Jack.

    He looked at the picture of the train in their book and read:
    After the Civil War, the U.S. government built railroads to link the eastern and western parts of the country. By the 1870s, steam engines carried people across the Kansas prairie.
    Jack pulled out his notebook and wrote:

    â€œLet’s get going,” said Annie. “We have to find that special writing for Morgan.”
    She started down the ladder.
    Jack packed his things in his leather bag and climbed down after her.
    When he stepped onto the ground, Jack looked toward the west.
    The train was gone. Only a thin trail of smoke floated across the sky.
    â€œThat train was cool,” said Jack.
    â€œYeah, and so is
that,
” said Annie. She pointed in the other direction.
    Far away, in the distance, a line of covered wagons rolled through the rippling grass. Their white coverings billowed in the breeze.
    Jack pulled out the research book. Hefound a picture of the wagon train. He read aloud:
    Wagons were the most common way for families to travel west. They could carry clothes, tools, food, and water. A line of wagons was called a “wagon train.” The white cloth coverings over the wagons also made them look like sailing ships, or schooners. For this reason, covered wagons were sometimes called “prairie schooners.”
    Jack looked at the wagons again. They
did
look like ships sailing across a rippling green sea.

    He wrote in his notebook:

    â€œLet’s get a closer look,” said Annie.
    She took off across the grass.
    Jack put away his things and ran after her. As they ran, the wind began to blow harder. The clouds overhead grew darker.
    â€œWait—wait!” Jack finally called to Annie. “We’ll never catch up to it!”
    They both stopped running. Panting, they watched the wagon train vanish over the horizon.
    Jack took a deep breath.
    â€œWhat now?” he said.
    They looked around.
    All Jack could see was the distant grove of trees with the tree house.
    With the train and wagon train gone, there were no signs of life anywhere—no pioneer cabins, no Native American tepees.
    â€œHow can we find the special writing?” said Jack. “There’s nothing out here.”
    â€œOh yeah?” said Annie. “What’s
that
?”
    She pointed to a rusty pipe sticking out from the top of a small hill.
    Streaming from the pipe was a column of black smoke.
    â€œOh, man,” said Jack, “that’s
definitely
a sign of life.”

“Let’s check it out,” said Annie.
    She and Jack walked up the little hill. At the top, they saw that the rusty pipe was rising out of a wooden roof.
    They walked around to the other side of the hill.
    Beneath the wooden roof was a door. The door seemed to open into the hill itself.
    â€œWhat is this?” said Annie.
    â€œLet’s find out,” said Jack.

    He studied their research book until he found a black-and-white photograph. The photograph showed the same hill with the door.
    Jack read aloud:
    Since the prairie did not have many trees, wood was hard to find. So pioneers often made their houses out of sod bricks, which were blocks of earth cut out of the prairie. Sometimes a sod house was dug out of the side of a hill. It was called a “dugout.”
    Jack pulled out his notebook. He wrote:

    Then Jack read more to Annie:
    Tornados, or twisters, are common on the prairie, so many dugouts had storm cellars. A storm cellar was like a rough basement below the ground. During a twister, a storm cellar is the safest place to be.
    â€œWow, maybe we’ll see a twister,” said Annie.
    â€œI hope not,” said Jack. Then he read on:
    A pioneer family built
this
dugout for a home. When they moved, the dugout became a schoolhouse. The schoolhouse had only one room. It also had a storm cellar beneath it.
    Jack quickly wrote:

    â€œHey! This is the place!” said Annie.
    Jack looked up from his writing.
    â€œWhat place?” he asked.
    â€œWhere’s the best place to find our special writing—
something to learn
?” asked Annie.
    Jack smiled.
    â€œA school,” he said.
    Annie ran to the wooden door and knocked loudly.
    A moment later, the