Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1900-07-19
WHY
JENKINSVILLE
CELEBRATED.


From Popular Monthly, Des Moines, Ia.
Ordinarily Jenkinsville didn't cele-
brate at home. The town of Farquar
on one side and the village Of Tru-
mansburg on the other generally abb;
sorbed most of the Jenkinsville youth
on July Fourth. Either of these towns
boosted nearly thousand residents
the situation and celebrated with its
bigger neighbors.
Last year 1t was different. The big
rival towns were literally forced, by
the unusual course Of events, to do
homage to Jenkinsville. To be more
accurate, the homage was to 12-year-old
Bobby Briggs, the pride of the town,
and the whole cause of Jenkinsville's
suddenly acquired renown and suprem-
acy. Never did the heart Of Jenkins
vile so swell with pride. Farquar
and Johannesburg said that it was only
an accident. Jenkinsville declared
that 1t was because Bobby Briggs was
hero. Unprejudiced people sided
with Jenkinsville.
On the morning Of June %, Bobby
had gone fishing. The LACE was In
dian creek below Crescent falls some
distance west of Jenkinsville and a
few hundred yards below the Great
Eastern railroad tracks, the main line
of which ran through the town. 1t
was a hot summer morning ana the
start had been early. The fish were
slow to bite and In a couple OF
hours a couple OF ompanions OF
bobby declared that they had tished
enough, and were going home.
Bobby said that he should stay
until noon, II he didn't catch
some fish before then. Scarcely
had the other boys gone, wher Bobby,
who had gone down stream to pool,
where big log reached out under the
shade of an oak tree, felt sharp tug
at his line. With stout yank the
young fisherman brought the pole back
over his head. and in a twinkling a
bouncing half pound perch To- wrig-
Cling in the tall green grass. Bobby's
heart grew light, and for the next hour
he was very busy. At the end Of that
time he had eight fine perch on his
string and was ready for home.
But Bobby did not walk home that
day. A heavy black bank Of clouds
had been gathering in the west.
Hardly had he gone fifty yards to-
ward the falls when big drops OF water
began hitting him in the face, and with
a deafening crash the lightning flash
cd and the thunder pealed right above
his head. Bobby pulled his hat down
tighter, sped up the creek bed toward
the falls, and climbing up steep gray
ell path, ran as IL I as his legs could
carry him toward the railroad bridge.
There he could get under the big
beams and wait until the rain was past.
II was a hard run to the sbridga, but
In less time than II takes to tell it.
Bobby was there and crawling up high
on the bank. he chuckled to himself
as he crawled into big pine box,
which some repair men who had been
working on the bridge for couple of
days had left there. The box had been
filled with iron castings for the bridge,
but they had been taken out and the
box left on its side. Some Of the old
bridge supports had been removed, to
make place for new ones. the old. ones
having become rotten, and the trestle
work was now largely supported by
temporary pillars. which rested on the
creek bed, where the water did not
reach. The bridge men expected to
get the new timbers In place that day,
but had been driven back to the sta
ton. over a mile away. by the storm.
The rain came down in torrents.
Bobby sat in his box, whist.ed and
watched the water begin 10 rise in the
k.l 1af n
be a treacherous stream. Bobby was
fascinated by the whirling green wa
ter. Still the rain came down in
sheets and the little creek had risen
nearly a foot. Down the narrow chan
mel it rushed with constantly increas-
ing force, like a mad thing. Bobby no.
ticed that the water was almost up to
the new supports. A few minutes
more he sat and watched while the wa
ter crept up around the bottom of the
big posts, and then on up UNI, the
bottom of the new timbers, which rest
ed on a slanting rock, were several
inches under water. 1t seemed to
Bobby that the longest or the pillars
avs slipping out at the bottom. With
straining eyes, he leaned forward and
watched, and sure enough. the bottom
was slowly sliding, slipping. inch by
inch, out towards the center of the
stream. IL one pillar came down, the
whole temporary frame work would
fall, and in a moment Bobby knew,
that with this frame work gone, the
trestle would probable give way and
the rails and ties drop into the stream.
But what could boy do? Suddenly,
with stagger and a big splitting of
boards, the outermost prop slid out
into the center of the stream, and IN
a moment the rest of the framework
built up by the bridge men, with a
crash and a splash that threw the wa
ter clear over across the creek onto
Bobby, fell out into the rushing water,
and the boards, pillars and posts began
floating down stream. BIT the rails
and ties held together. although the
track was setting, where the props
had fallen away.
Bobby was terrified. How would he
get home? The creek was now too
deep to wade. and he was afraid to
try to cross the bridge, for the lightest
weight was liable to cause the track
to give way. And the rain was COM
ing down harder than ever. Bobby
almost wished that he had gone back
home with the other boys despite his
good luck fishing.
But listen, what was that? In a mo-
ment more Bobby knew. IL was the
Black Diamond express whistling for
Jenkinsville. Above the storm Bobby
heard the long shrill whistle that in
dictated that the express was going to
stop at the station. II did SO only
when 1t had some summer boarders
from New York or Philadelphia, who
came to spend the summer at some of
tho lake hotels. Then Bobby thought
once more OF the bridge.