Earthquake in the Early Morning - Mary Pope Osborne [5]
“She’s just guessing,” Jack said quickly.
“Pretty gloomy guess,” said Betty. “Tell your folks not to catch the ferry. Thousands are crowding into the ferry building. Go to Golden Gate Park.”
“Thanks for the tip,” said Annie.
“Thanks for the story,” said Betty. Then she and Fred hurried away.
Jack and Annie looked around.
Now many people seemed to be fleeing their homes. Some were going up the hill. Some were going down.
An old woman was pushing a wheelbarrow filled with pots and pans. A girl was carrying a suitcase and a cat. A boy was carrying a birdcage and a fishbowl.
“They’re all going in different directions,” said Annie.
“I wonder where Golden Gate Park is,” said Jack. “Maybe we should go there. Let’s see if there’s a map in our book.”
Jack looked in their research book. He found a map of San Francisco.
“Where are we now?” he said.
As he looked for a street sign, he saw a man carrying an armload of books out of a beautiful building. The man put the books into the back of a horse-drawn wagon.
“What’s he doing?” asked Jack.
“I bet he’s saving those books,” said Annie.
“Saving books?” said Jack. He loved books. For a moment, Jack forgot his fears. He forgot about trying to save himself.
“We’d better help,” he said. “Come on!”
Jack and Annie ran up 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.
“Hey, what’s the story?” Annie asked the man.
Jack couldn’t help smiling. Annie sounded just like the newspaper reporter.
“I’m moving all the rare books to the Pavilion,” the man said.
“Can we help?” asked Jack.
“Sure, 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.
“Wow,” whispered Jack.
He and Annie carried the books outside.
“Careful, please!” said the man. “All these books are treasures—ancient Bibles and hand-painted books.”
The man carefully took the books from Jack’s and Annie’s arms and put them in the back of the wagon.
“Thanks,” 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!”
“I bet he was the librarian,” said Jack.
He opened his research book. He looked for a photograph of the building that had the books.
“Here 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.
“Oh no!” cried Jack. “Stop! Stop!”
Clutching the research book, he ran after the wagon. Annie ran with him.
“Stop! 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.
“You can’t go to the Pavilion!” Jack cried.
“You have to take them back to the building where they were!” said Annie.
“They 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.
“You 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.
“Come 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.
“I can’t believe it,” Jack said. He was close to tears.
“We tried, but we couldn’t save them,” said Annie. She touched Jack’s shoulder gently.
“All those books … ” His voice trailed off.
“Hey,” said Annie. “Someone’s crying over there—someone with