The trial of Moll Hawk was a brief one. "Judge" Billings, as foreman of the jury, asked permission of the Court to make a few remarks before the taking of testimony began.

"Your honour, this here jury got together last night and sort of talked things over while Mr. Benbridge and other patriotic citizens of Lafayette were engaged in organizing a number of noble and brave-hearted gentlemen into a company of soldiers to give battle to the bloodthirsty red man who is about to swoop down upon us, with tommyhawk and knife and rifle, to ravage our lands and pillage our women—er—I mean pillage our lands and—er—so forth. As I was saying, your honour, we talked it over and seeing as how we have all enlisted in Mr. Benbridge's troop and he sort of thought we'd better begin drilling as soon as possible, and also seeing as how this here trial is attractin' a good deal of attention at a time when we ought to be thinkin' of the safety of our wives and children,—if we have any,—we came to the conclusion to address you, sir, with all respect, and suggest that you instruct the counsel on both sides to be as lenient as possible with the jury.

"This here innocent girl's father broke out of jail and got away. As far as this here jury knows he ain't likely ever to come back, so, for the time being at least, there don't seem to be anybody we can hang for the crime with which the prisoner at the bar is charged. This jury was picked with a great deal of care by the sheriff and is, I am reliably informed, entirely satisfactory to both sides of the case.

"In view of the fact that Black Hawk's warriors are reported to have been seen within twenty miles of our beautiful little city, and also in view of the additional fact that Mrs. Rachel Gwyn, one of our foremost citizens and taxpayers, has recently informed me,—and your honour also, I believe, in my presence,—that she intends to give this poor girl a home as soon as she is lawfully discharged by the jury as not guilty, we, the jury, implore your honour to keep an eye on the clock. As we understand the case, there were only two witnesses to the killing of the villain against whom this young woman fought so desperately in self-defence. One of 'em is here in this courtroom. The other is dead and buried. It is now ten minutes past nine. We, the jury, would like for you to inform the counsel on both sides that at precisely ten o'clock we are going to render a verdict, because at a quarter-past ten the majority of us have to attend a company drill. The lawyer for the prisoner enlisted last night as a private in our company, and so did the prosecuting attorney."

"This is a most unusual and unprecedented action on the part of a jury," said the Court gravely. "However, in view of the extraordinary circumstances, I feel that we should be as expeditious as possible in disposing of the case on trial. Gentlemen, you have heard the remarks of the foreman of the jury. Have either of you any reason for objecting to the suggestion he has made? Very well, then; we will proceed with the trial of Mary Hawk, charged with murder in the first degree. Call your first witness, Mr. Prosecutor."

The little courtroom was jammed to its capacity. Hundreds, unable to gain admission, crowded about the entrance and filled the square. The town was in the throes of a vast excitement, what with the trial, the Indian uprising in the north, the escape of Martin Hawk and the flight of Barry Lapelle, hitherto regarded as a rake but not even suspected of actual dishonesty. The Paul Revere, with Captain Redberry in charge, had got away at daybreak, loaded to the rails with foot-loose individuals who suddenly had decided to try their fortunes elsewhere rather than remain in a district likely to be overrun by savages.

Moll Hawk sat in front of the judge's table and at her side was Kenneth Gwynne. Mrs. Gwyn and Viola occupied seats on a bench near one of the windows, facing the jury. The prisoner was frightened. She was stiff and uncomfortable in the new dress the sheriff's wife had selected for her. Her black hair was neatly brushed and coiled in two thick lobs which hung down over her ears. Her deep-set eyes darted restlessly, even warily about her as she sat there in the midst of this throng of strange, stern-faced men. Now and then they went appealingly to Mrs. Gwyn or Viola or to the sheriff's wife, and always they seemed to be asking: "What are they going to do to me?"

The prosecuting attorney, a young man of slender experience but chivalrous instincts, solemnly announced that he had but two witnesses to examine and then he was through. He called the undertaker to the stand.

"In as few words as possible, tell the jury who it was that you buried yesterday afternoon."

"Jasper Suggs."

"Was he dead?"

"He was."

"That's all, your honour."

"Any questions, Mr. Gwynne?" inquired the judge.

"None, your honour."

"Call your next witness, Mr. Prosecutor."

"Mr. Sheriff, will you take the stand for a moment? Did you see the defendant along about four o'clock yesterday morning?"

"I did."

"State where."

"At her father's cabin."

"State what had happened there prior to your arrival, if you know."

"This defendant had had a little difficulty with the corpse, and he was dead on the floor when we got there."

"From a knife wound?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who inflicted that wound, if you know?"

"Miss Mary Hawk."

"You are sure about that, Mr. Sheriff?"

"Pos-i-tively."

"How can you be sure of that, sir, if you did not witness the deed with your own eyes?"

The Court rapped on the table.

"This is your own witness, Mr. Prosecutor. Are you trying to cross-examine him, or to discredit his testimony?"

"I beg your honour's pardon."

Kenneth arose. "We will admit that Jasper Suggs came to his death at the hands of the defendant."

"In that case," said his gentlemanly adversary, "the State rests."

"Judge" Billings was heard audibly to remark: "Give 'em an inch and they take a mile."

"Order in the court! Call your first witness, Mr. Gwynne."

"Take this chair, if you please, Miss Hawk. Hold up your right hand and be sworn. Now, be good enough to answer the questions I put to you, clearly and distinctly, so that the jury may hear."

After a few preliminary questions he said: "Now tell the Court and the jury exactly what happened, beginning with the return of your father and Jasper Suggs from a trip to town. Don't be afraid, Miss—er—Moll. Tell the jury, in your own words, just what took place between the time you first heard Suggs and your father talking in the cabin and the arrival of the sheriff and his men."

It lacked just three minutes of ten o'clock when she finished her story. It had been delivered haltingly and with visible signs of embarrassment at times, but it was a straightforward, honest recital of facts.

"Any questions, Mr. Prosecutor?"

"None, your honour. The State does not desire to present argument. It is content to submit its case to the jury without argument, asking only that a verdict be rendered fairly and squarely upon the evidence as introduced. All we ask is justice."

"Any argument, Mr. Gwynne?"

"None, your honour. The defence is satisfied to leave its case entirely in the hands of the jury."

"Gentlemen of the jury," said the Court, glancing at the clock, "the Court will omit its instructions to you, merely advising you that if you find the prisoner guilty as charged your verdict must be murder in the first degree, the penalty for which is death."

"Judge" Billings leaned over and picked up his hat from the floor. Then he arose and announced:

"We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty."

"Prisoner discharged," said the Court, arising. "The Court desires to thank the jurors for the close attention you have paid to the evidence in this case and for the prompt and just verdict you have returned. Court stands adjourned."

Later on Moll Hawk walked up the hill with Mrs. Gwyn and Viola. Very few words had passed between them since they left the curious but friendly crowd in the public square. Finally Moll's dubious thoughts found expression in words, breaking in upon the detached reflections of her two companions.

"I don't see why they let me off like that, Mis' Gwyn. I killed him, didn't I?"

"Yes, Moll,—but the law does not convict a person who kills in self-defence. Didn't you understand that?" "But supposin' I wuz starvin' to death an' I stole a ham like Bud Gridley did last fall when his pa an' ma wuz sick, wouldn't that be self-defence? They put him in jail fer two months, jest fer stealin' a ham when he hadn't had nothin' to eat fer three days,—bein' crippled an' couldn't work. Wuz that fair?"

"Don't forget, Moll," said Rachel ironically, "that Henry Butts valued his ham at seventy-five cents."

"Anyhow, hit don't seem right an' fair," said Moll. "I didn't have to kill Jasper to save my life. I could ha' saved it without killin' him."

"You did perfectly right in killing him, Moll," broke in Viola warmly. "I would have done the same thing if I had been in your place."

Moll thought over this for a few seconds. "Well, maybe you might have had to do it, Miss Violy, if them fellers had got away with you as they wuz plannin' to do," she said.

Silence fell between them again, broken after a while by Moll. "They'll never ketch Pap," she said. "I guess I'll never lay eyes on him ag'in. I wuz jest wonderin' what's goin' to become of his dogs. Do you suppose anybody'll take the trouble to feed 'em?"

Toby Moxler, Jack Trentman's dealer, accosted Kenneth Gwynne at the conclusion of the first drill.

"Jack found this here letter down at the shanty this morning, Mr. Gwynne. It's addressed to you, so he asked me to hand it to you when I saw you."

Kenneth knew at once who the letter was from. He stuck it into his coat pocket, unopened.

"Tell Jack that I am very much obliged to him," he said, and walked away.

When he was safely out of hearing distance, Toby turned to the man at his side and remarked:

"If what Barry Lapelle told me and Jack Trentman yesterday morning is true, there'll be the doggonedest scandal this town ever heard of."

"What did he tell you?" inquired his neighbour eagerly.

"It's against my principles to talk about women," snapped Toby, glaring at the man as if deeply insulted. Seeing the disappointment in the other's face, he softened a little: "'Specially about widders," he went so far as to explain. "You keep your shirt on, Elmer, and wait. And when it does come out, you'll be the most surprised man in town."

Kenneth did not open Barry's letter until he reached his office. His face darkened as he read but cleared almost instantly. He even smiled disdainfully as he tore the sheet into small pieces and stuffed them into his pocket against the time when he could consign them to the fire in his kitchen stove.

"Kenneth Gwynne, Esquire.

"Sir: Upon receipt of your discurtious and cowardly reply to my challenge I realized the futility of expecting on your part an honourable and gentlemanly settlement of our difficulties. My natural inclination was to seek you out and force you to fight but advice of friends prevailed. I have decided to make it my business to verify the story which has come to my ears regarding the Gwynne and Carter families. In pursuit of this intention I am starting immediately for your old home town in Kentucky where I am convinced there still remain a number of people who will be able to give me all the facts. If I was misled into making statements that were untrue in my last meeting with your sister I shall most humbly apologize to her. If on the contrary I find that what I said to her was true I will make it my business to bring all the facts to the notice of the people of Lafayette and let them decide what to do in the matter. In any case I shall return in about a month or six weeks at which time I shall renew my challenge to you with the sincere hope that you may accept it and that I may have the belated pleasure of putting a bullet through your cowardly heart. I must however in the meantime refuse to sign myself

"Yours respectfully

"BARRY LAPELLE."