She kept her head down. A scarlet wave crept over her face. "I--I wish you wouldn't call me that, Mr. Gwynne. Hit--hit makes me feel kind o'--kind o' lonesome-like. Jest as--ef I didn't have no friends. Call me Moll. That's all I am." He studied for a moment the half-averted face of this girl of the forest. He could not help contrasting it with the clear-cut, delicate, beautifully modelled face of another girl of the dark frontier,--Viola Gwyn. And out of this swift estimate grew a new pity for poor Moll Hawk, the pity one feels for the vanquished. "You will be surprised to find how many friends you have, Moll," he said gently. There was no indication that she was impressed one way or the other by this remark. She drew back from the window and faced him, her eyes keen and searching. "Do you reckon anybody is listenin'?" she asked. "I think not,--in fact, I am sure we are quite alone." "Well, this is somethin' I don't keer to have the shurreff know, or anybody else, Mr. Gwynne. Hit's about Mr. Lapelle." "Yes?" he said, as she paused warily. "Mrs. Gwyn she tole me this mornin' that whatever I said to my lawyer would be sacred an' wouldn't ever be let out to anybody, no matter whut it wuz. She said it wuz ag'inst the code er somethin'. Wuz she right?" "In a sense, yes. Of course, you must understand, Moll, that no honest lawyer will obligate himself to shield a criminal or a fugitive from justice, or--I may as well say to you now that if you expect that of me I must warn you not to tell me anything. You would force me to withdraw as your counsel. For, you see, Moll, I am an honest lawyer." She looked at him in a sort of mute wonder for a moment, and then muttered: "Why, Pap,--Pap he sez there ain't no setch thing as a honest lawyer." An embarrassed little smile twisted her lips. "I guess that must ha' been one of Pap's lies." "It is possible he may never have come in contact with one," he observed drily. "Well, I guess ef you're a honest lawyer," she said, knitting her brows, "I'd better keep my mouth shut. I wuz only thinkin' mebby you could see your way to do somethin' I wuz goin' to ask. I jest wanted to git some word to Mr. Lapelle." "Mr. Lapelle and I are not friends, Moll." "Is it beca'se of whut I asked Ike Stain to tell ye?" "Partly." "I mean about stealin' Miss Violy Gwyn an' takin' her away with him?" "I want to thank you, Moll, for sending me the warning. It was splendid of you." "Oh, I didn't do it beca'se--" she began, somewhat defiantly, and then closed her lips tightly. The sullen look came back into her eyes. "I understand. You--you like him yourself." "Well,--whut ef I do?" she burst out. "Hit's my look-out, ain't it?" "Certainly. I am not blaming you." "I guess there ain't no use talkin' any more," she said flatly. "You wouldn't do whut I want ye to do anyhow, so what's the sense of askin' you. We better go back to the kitchen."