The fire was lighted, and burned brightly, but cast off little smoke.

Then Henry turned to Paul.
"Let's go up to the north end of the island," he said.
It was a walk of but a few minutes, and Henry, stopping before they reached the margin of the lake, said: "Look up, Paul!" Paul did so, and saw many dark objects in the forks of trees about him, or tied to the boughs.

They looked like shapeless bundles, and he did not know what they were.
"A burying ground," said Henry, in answer to his inquiring look.
Paul felt the same weird little shiver that had assailed him the night before.
"A burying ground!" "Yes, but by some old, old tribe before the Shawnees or Miamis.

What you see are only bundles of sticks and skeletons.

No bodies have been left here in a long time, and the Indians think the island is haunted by the ghosts of those who died and were left here long, long ago.