Bonny Jean, and A Severe Threat — page 14: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

BONNY. JEAN. 7 though a bad man, I ’spose—and jest as he was expectin’ to pass in his checks my father happened along. Old Conway was a crack shot in them days, Phil, and afore you could say Jack Robinson, two o’ them redskins bit the dust. I reckon the balance o’ them got well skeered—maybe they thought there was more like John Conway a comin’——but anyhow they all turned quick and jest run away—beat by onesingle man, Ha! ha! Pretty good, wasn't it? Wal, La Fitte was mighty grateful, and he told my father that hed never forgit him. And he didn’t Phil, though nobody but me on airth knows the truth o’ the matter. You've heered the old story, how La Fitte had plenty o’ treasure buried in different parts o’ the country around Louisiana? Wal, the fust thing my father knowed the pirate died, and left him a big pile, mostly gold, and he hid it safe away in the ground; for, you see, the only bank that La Fitte knowed was asand bank. And Phil, he buried that there treasure at a certain point on the Tanghipahoa river, But my father never dared to touch it—never made an effort to dig up the treasure. Phil—he was afeered. So he left it there, and when he died, six months ago—nigh onto a hundred years old, my boy—he told me all about it, and left it to me. But I’ve never had the strength to sarch for it, and now I’m struck down, and there it lays. If I had ason /7@ tell him all about it, and leave it to him as a legacy. But Jean’s all I’ve got, and she, poor child, must have that gold, Philip—it’s her airthly all. Will you see arter it, my boy? You know I trust you afore anybody in the wide world.” Philip pressed the wrinkled hand which he held. ‘‘T will do the best I can,” he replied, ‘‘ for—I love Jean— will you leave her in my care, Mr. Conway ?” : ‘‘Willin’—ay ! and glad to doit. Thank God! my gal will be well cared for. And you'll be good to the mother, Philip ?” ‘As though she were my own,” he responded, fervently. ‘Wal, now, my boy, I’m agoin’ totell you. Wait aminute ; see fust ain’t there somebody listenin’, Phil, ‘Pears like I hear Eomichbooks =) (ee)