It was this more than anything else that made him hate the man.
Physically, Nome was a magnificent specimen, beyond doubt the handsomest man in the service north of Winnipeg; so that while other men despised him for what they knew, women admired and loved him--until, now and then too late for their own salvation, they discovered that his moral code was rotten to the core.
Such a thing had happened at Nelson House, and Philip felt himself burning with a desire to choke the life out of Nome as he recalled the tragedy there.

And what would happen--now?
The thought came to him like a dash of cold water, and yet, after a moment, his teeth gleamed in a smile as a vision rose before him of the love and purity which he had seen in the sweet face of the colonel's wife.

He chuckled softly to himself as he dragged out a pack from under his bunk; but there was no humor in the chuckle.

From it he took a bundle wrapped in soft birch-bark, and from this produced the skull that he had brought up with him from the South.

There was a tremble of excitement in his low laugh as he glanced about the gloomy interior of the cabin.
From the log ceiling hung a big oil lamp with a tin reflector, and under this he hung the skull.
"You'll make a pretty ornament, M'sieur Janette," he exclaimed, standing off to contemplate the white thing leering and bobbing at him from the end of its string.