Late that night, Jonathan and Martha hitched the strange object to the back of their combine. No one else saw them drag it into their barn. Then Jonathan began to dig a hole in the center of the barn’s dirt floor.

“I don’t want any nosy reporters looking for this thing,” said Jonathan. “They’d never leave us alone.”

Martha agreed. She was also worried that Clark might be taken away from them.

While Jonathan kept digging, Martha carefully searched the inside of the metal ship. She looked for clues about the strange baby. There were no photos, no toys, and no clothes.

“Look at this,” Martha cried.

Her hand touched a bundle of red and blue blankets. She pulled them out and examined them closely.

“I wonder if these are from Clark’s home,” she said.

Once Jonathan buried the ship, they returned to the house. Martha walked upstairs and tucked the blankets deep inside a clothes chest in her bedroom.

“Clark may need these some day,” she said to herself.

Over the next few days, Clark was a happy toddler. He enjoyed his new home. He was interested in the cows, the tractor, and the dogs. But most of the time, Clark stayed close by Martha. Something in her tender voice was comforting to him.

When Martha worked in the garden, Clark sat next to her. He dug his fists into the dirt. Martha would brush off a carrot or peapod and hand it to him. Then the boy would hungrily stuff it into his mouth.

That summer in Kansas was one of the hottest on record. Martha worked in the garden in the afternoons, when the sun was behind the big barn.

Clark didn’t seem to mind the heat. The little boy didn’t sweat. His skin didn’t burn. In fact, Clark was happiest when sitting outside in the hot yellow rays of the sun.

Clark looked up at the weather vane on top of the house. It was spinning wildly. Martha noticed it too.

“Jonathan,” she yelled. “I think we’re in for a storm.”

Jonathan was fixing some equipment in the barn. He didn’t hear his wife’s voice.

Martha stood up from the garden. She stretched her back. She was about to grab her buckets of carrots when she stopped.

Off to the southwest, the sky had grown greenish-black. Dangerous clouds drifted toward them. In the middle of the dark clouds, a gray cloud was spinning. It spun like the weather vane. Martha watched as a tongue of twisting air dropped from the sky.

As soon as the twister touched the ground, the tongue changed color. Now it was dark brown, the color of the dirt it was scooping up into its deadly funnel.

“Jonathan!” screamed Martha. “A twister! There’s a twister!”

The whirling storm was heading toward the farm. Martha reached down and grabbed Clark’s arm. She pulled him along behind her. They raced toward the storm shelter at the side of the house.

By the time they reached the shelter, powerful winds began to blow across the fields. The corn was pushed flat to the ground. The trees groaned and creaked. The weather vane suddenly snapped off the roof. It landed nearby on the ground, nearly hitting Martha and Clark.

Martha screamed again for her husband. She pulled open one of the storm shelter doors. It was low on the ground. Short wooden steps led down to a shelter built under the house.

“Jonathan!” she yelled again. “Where is your father?” Martha cried to Clark.

The little boy stared up at her face, puzzled. He could tell she was frightened. Things were falling around her, scaring her.

Clark was reminded of something that had happened far away. He didn’t like it when people were afraid.

Finally, Martha saw Jonathan step out of the barn. “Here!” she yelled, waving her arms. “We’re back here.”

Jonathan ran toward her.

The sound of moaning metal grew louder than the storm.

Jonathan stopped and turned. He glanced at the silo that stood between the barn and the house.

The metal tower was rocking slowly back and forth. It began to pull away from its cement floor.

Another, louder, groan filled the air.

Jonathan was frozen with surprise as he watched the silo fall onto the ground.

Then he started running again. “Hurry! Hurry!” Martha yelled to him.

She turned to Clark, to push him into the storm shelter. The boy was gone.

Martha looked up at Jonathan. She wanted to yell at him, but the winds were too loud. He would not hear her saying that Clark was missing.

Then she saw him. Clark had wandered around the side of the house. He stood directly in the path of the rolling silo. In a moment, the metal tower would crush him.

Martha started to run after him. She knew she was too far away to reach him in time. There was nothing else she could do. Suddenly, the silo was on top of Clark.

The boy raised his little hands. His tiny fingers reached out and grabbed the metal. The silo stopped. The tower buckled in at the point where Clark was standing.

With a determined shove, Clark pushed the silo away from him. It rolled harmlessly across the cornfield.

Martha ran toward Clark and grabbed him. Jonathan joined them. Then all three hurried to the storm shelter and bolted the door behind them.

While the winds screamed above them, the family sat in the dim light of a small lamp. Martha never let go of Clark.

His arms stayed wrapped around her neck. Jonathan gazed at his newly adopted son.

“You did see what happened, didn’t you, Martha?” he asked quietly.

Martha nodded, tears in her eyes. “We rescued Clark, and now he rescued us,” she replied.

Jonathan took off his glasses and wiped them with a rag. “He’s just a baby now,” he said. “Think of what he could do when he grows up.”

“We’ll be good parents,” said Martha softly. “We’ll raise him up as best we can.”

Jonathan nodded. Then he reached over and patted the boy’s shoulder. “You’re a good boy, Clark,” he said. “You did good, son.”

The little hero looked up and smiled.