旋风
多萝西住在广阔的堪萨斯大草原中央，和叔叔亨利、婶婶艾姆住在一起。亨利叔叔是个农夫，艾姆婶婶是农夫的妻子。他们的房子很小，因为盖房子用的木料得用马车从好几英里外运来。房子有四面墙、一个地板和屋顶，凑成一个房间；这房间里有一只看着锈迹斑斑的炉灶、放碗碟的橱柜、一张桌子、三四把椅子，还有几张床。亨利叔叔和艾姆婶婶在一角放着一张大床，多萝西在另一角放着一张小床。房子里根本没有阁楼，也没有地窖——只有一个在地上挖的小洞，叫旋风地窖，万一那些能碾碎沿途任何建筑的大旋风刮起来，一家人就可以躲进去。地窖靠地板中央的活动门下去，门里有一架梯子通到那又小又黑的洞里。
多萝西站在门口向四周望去，只见四面八方都是灰蒙蒙的大草原。没有一棵树，也没有一栋房子，打破这片一直延伸到天边的平坦辽阔的原野。太阳把犁过的土地烤成了一片灰白，上面裂开一道道小缝。连草也不是绿的，因为太阳把长草叶的尖儿都晒得和别处一样成了灰颜色。房子曾经刷过漆，可太阳把漆泡得起了泡，雨水又把它冲掉，如今房子和别的一切一样暗淡灰败。
艾姆婶婶刚来这儿住的时候，是个年轻漂亮的媳妇。太阳和风也改变了她。它们夺走了她眼中的光彩，只留下沉静的灰；它们夺走了她脸颊和嘴唇上的红润，那也都是灰的了。她瘦削干瘪，如今再也不笑了。多萝西是个孤儿，刚到她身边时，艾姆婶婶常被孩子笑声惊得大叫，手按着心口，只要听见多萝西欢快的声音就那样；到现在她还带着惊奇看这小姑娘，奇怪她竟能找出什么来笑。
亨利叔叔从来不笑。他从早到晚辛苦干活，不知快乐为何物。他也一身灰，从长胡子到粗靴子都是灰的，神情严厉庄重，很少说话。
是托托让多萝西发笑，让她没变得和周围一切那样灰暗。托托不是灰的；他是一只小黑狗，长着长长的丝般软毛，滑稽的小鼻子两边一双小黑眼睛快活地眨着。托托整天玩，多萝西就和他玩，真心爱他。
可是今天，他们没在玩。亨利叔叔坐在门阶上，不安地望着天，天比往常还要灰。多萝西站在门口，怀里抱着托托，也望着天。艾姆婶婶在洗盘子。
从遥远的北方，他们听见风低低的哀号，亨利叔叔和多萝西看见长草在来袭的风暴前像波浪般弯下。这时南方空中传来尖锐的呼啸，他们转眼望去，看见草里也从那个方向涌起涟漪。
亨利叔叔忽然站起来。
“艾姆，旋风来了，”他对妻子喊，“我去照看牲口。”说完他朝关牛马的棚屋跑去。
艾姆婶婶放下活儿来到门口。一眼她就看出迫近的危险。
“快，多萝西！”她尖叫，“往地窖跑！”
托托从多萝西怀里跳下，钻到床底下，女孩就去抓他。艾姆婶婶吓坏了，推开地板上的活动门，顺着梯子爬进又小又黑的洞里。多萝西终于抓住托托，起身去追婶婶。她刚走到房间一半，风里传来一声巨啸，房子猛晃，她脚下一滑，一屁股坐到了地上。
接着怪事发生了。
房子转了两三圈，慢慢升到了空中。多萝西觉得自己像乘着气球往上飘。
南北风在房子立着的地方相遇，使它成了旋风的正中心。旋风中心空气通常是静的，但房子四面大风的巨压把它越抬越高，直到旋风顶上；它就停在那儿，被轻飘飘地带出好几英里，好比你能拿起一根羽毛那样容易。
四周很黑，风在她周围可怕地嚎叫，可多萝西发现自己乘得相当平稳。转了头几圈，又有一次房子歪得厉害，之后她觉得像躺在摇篮里被轻轻摇着。
托托可不乐意。他在屋里跑来跑去，一会儿这儿，一会儿那儿，大声叫；多萝西却静静坐在地上，等着看会怎样。
有一次托托离开着的活动门太近，掉了下去；女孩起先以为把他丢了。可很快她看见一只耳朵从洞里竖出来，因为强风的压力托着他，掉不下去。她爬到洞边，揪着耳朵把托托拽回屋里，随后关上活动门，免得再出意外。
一小时又一小时过去，多萝西渐渐不害怕了；可她觉得挺孤单，风在四周叫得那么响，她几乎聋了。起先她想，房子再落下来时自己会不会摔成碎片；可几小时过去，没什么可怕的事发生，她就不担心了，决心静静等着，看将来怎样。终于她爬过摇晃的地板，到小床上躺下；托托也跟着躺到她身边。
尽管房子摇，风哀号，多萝西不久就闭上眼，睡熟了。
The Cyclone
Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle
Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer’s wife. Their
house was small, for the lumber to build it had to be carried by wagon
many miles. There were four walls, a floor and a roof, which made one
room; and this room contained a rusty looking cookstove, a cupboard for
the dishes, a table, three or four chairs, and the beds. Uncle Henry
and Aunt Em had a big bed in one corner, and Dorothy a little bed in
another corner. There was no garret at all, and no cellar—except a
small hole dug in the ground, called a cyclone cellar, where the family
could go in case one of those great whirlwinds arose, mighty enough to
crush any building in its path. It was reached by a trap door in the
middle of the floor, from which a ladder led down into the small, dark
hole.
When Dorothy stood in the doorway and looked around, she could see
nothing but the great gray prairie on every side. Not a tree nor a
house broke the broad sweep of flat country that reached to the edge of
the sky in all directions. The sun had baked the plowed land into a
gray mass, with little cracks running through it. Even the grass was
not green, for the sun had burned the tops of the long blades until
they were the same gray color to be seen everywhere. Once the house had
been painted, but the sun blistered the paint and the rains washed it
away, and now the house was as dull and gray as everything else.
When Aunt Em came there to live she was a young, pretty wife. The sun
and wind had changed her, too. They had taken the sparkle from her eyes
and left them a sober gray; they had taken the red from her cheeks and
lips, and they were gray also. She was thin and gaunt, and never smiled
now. When Dorothy, who was an orphan, first came to her, Aunt Em had
been so startled by the child’s laughter that she would scream and
press her hand upon her heart whenever Dorothy’s merry voice reached
her ears; and she still looked at the little girl with wonder that she
could find anything to laugh at.
Uncle Henry never laughed. He worked hard from morning till night and
did not know what joy was. He was gray also, from his long beard to his
rough boots, and he looked stern and solemn, and rarely spoke.
It was Toto that made Dorothy laugh, and saved her from growing as gray
as her other surroundings. Toto was not gray; he was a little black
dog, with long silky hair and small black eyes that twinkled merrily on
either side of his funny, wee nose. Toto played all day long, and
Dorothy played with him, and loved him dearly.
Today, however, they were not playing. Uncle Henry sat upon the
doorstep and looked anxiously at the sky, which was even grayer than
usual. Dorothy stood in the door with Toto in her arms, and looked at
the sky too. Aunt Em was washing the dishes.
From the far north they heard a low wail of the wind, and Uncle Henry
and Dorothy could see where the long grass bowed in waves before the
coming storm. There now came a sharp whistling in the air from the
south, and as they turned their eyes that way they saw ripples in the
grass coming from that direction also.
Suddenly Uncle Henry stood up.
“There’s a cyclone coming, Em,” he called to his wife. “I’ll go look
after the stock.” Then he ran toward the sheds where the cows and
horses were kept.
Aunt Em dropped her work and came to the door. One glance told her of
the danger close at hand.
“Quick, Dorothy!” she screamed. “Run for the cellar!”
Toto jumped out of Dorothy’s arms and hid under the bed, and the girl
started to get him. Aunt Em, badly frightened, threw open the trap door
in the floor and climbed down the ladder into the small, dark hole.
Dorothy caught Toto at last and started to follow her aunt. When she
was halfway across the room there came a great shriek from the wind,
and the house shook so hard that she lost her footing and sat down
suddenly upon the floor.
Then a strange thing happened.
The house whirled around two or three times and rose slowly through the
air. Dorothy felt as if she were going up in a balloon.
The north and south winds met where the house stood, and made it the
exact center of the cyclone. In the middle of a cyclone the air is
generally still, but the great pressure of the wind on every side of
the house raised it up higher and higher, until it was at the very top
of the cyclone; and there it remained and was carried miles and miles
away as easily as you could carry a feather.
It was very dark, and the wind howled horribly around her, but Dorothy
found she was riding quite easily. After the first few whirls around,
and one other time when the house tipped badly, she felt as if she were
being rocked gently, like a baby in a cradle.
Toto did not like it. He ran about the room, now here, now there,
barking loudly; but Dorothy sat quite still on the floor and waited to
see what would happen.
Once Toto got too near the open trap door, and fell in; and at first
the little girl thought she had lost him. But soon she saw one of his
ears sticking up through the hole, for the strong pressure of the air
was keeping him up so that he could not fall. She crept to the hole,
caught Toto by the ear, and dragged him into the room again, afterward
closing the trap door so that no more accidents could happen.
Hour after hour passed away, and slowly Dorothy got over her fright;
but she felt quite lonely, and the wind shrieked so loudly all about
her that she nearly became deaf. At first she had wondered if she would
be dashed to pieces when the house fell again; but as the hours passed
and nothing terrible happened, she stopped worrying and resolved to
wait calmly and see what the future would bring. At last she crawled
over the swaying floor to her bed, and lay down upon it; and Toto
followed and lay down beside her.
In spite of the swaying of the house and the wailing of the wind,
Dorothy soon closed her eyes and fell fast asleep.
