steer clear of that though, and try your hand at being
honest for once. M'sieur Janette wants to give you this chance, and
you'd better make good time. So get a move on, Bucky. You'll need a
blanket and a little grub, that's all."

"Steele, you don't mean this! Good God, man--" Nome had half risen to
his feet. "You don't mean this!"

With his free hand Philip took out his watch.

"I mean that if you are not gone within fifteen minutes I'll march you
over to Breed and the colonel, tell them the story of M'sieur Janette,
here, and hold you until we hear from headquarters," he said quickly.
"Which will it be, Nome?"

Like one stunned by a blow Nome rose slowly to his feet. He spoke no
word as he carefully filled his pack with the necessities of a long
journey. At the door, as he opened it to go, he turned for just an
instant upon Steele, who was still holding the revolver in his hand.

"Remember, Bucky," admonished Philip in a quiet voice, "it's all for the
good of yourself and the service."

Fear had gone from Nome's face. It was filled now with a hatred so
intense that his teeth shone like the fangs of a snarling animal.

"To hell with you," he said, "and to hell with the service; but
remember, Philip Steele, remember that some day we'll meet again."

"Some day," laughed Philip. "Good-by, Bucky Nome--deserter!"

The door closed and Nome was gone.

"Now, M'sieur Janette, it's our turn," cried Steele, smiling
companionably upon the skull and loading his pipe. "It's our turn."

He laughed aloud, and for some time puffed out luxurious clouds of smoke
in silence.

"It's the best day's work I've done in my life," he continued, with his
eyes still upon the skull. "The very best, and it would be complete,
M'sieur, if I could send you down to the woman who helped to kill you."

He stopped, and his eyes leaped with a sudden fire. "By George!" he
exclaimed, under his breath. His pipe went out; for many minutes he
stared with set face at the skull, as if it had spoken to him and its
voice had transfixed him where he stood. Then he tossed his pipe upon
the table, collected his service equipment and strapped it in his pack.
After that he returned to the table with a pad of paper and a pencil
and sat down. His face was strangely white as he took the skull in his
hands.

"I'll do it, so help me all the gods, I'll do it!" he breathed
excitedly. "M'sieur, a woman killed you---as much as Bucky Nome, a woman
did it. You co