And to crown all the other wonders, lo! they come to a house or rather a hut, and at a little distance off there are others. But no smoke is now curling up from the compounds around. The fences are decayed and overrun with creepers; snakes glide here and there through what had once been a pretty garden, and the door of the principal hut has fallen from its hinges.
Nay, not fallen; it has been smashed in, and the two skeletons that lie bleaching not far off—one that of a child—tell the tale of a tragedy that was enacted in these wilds many years ago far more graphically than any words could have done.
“I not like de look ob tings at p’esent, sah,” said Brandy.
“Nor I either, my friend. But it is pretty evident that this island has at one time been a settlement, that there has been a foul deed done, and that the murderers have fled. Never mind, Brandy, we shall remove from the desolate triton-haunted sea-shore to this lovely valley, and build ourselves a hut. As for these poor remains we will bury them. The wretches who committed the crime doubtless landed from a ship, and the story of their terrible iniquity may never, never be known.”
The Crusoes returned to the hut by the sea that same evening, Brandy carrying on his shoulder a tiny young pig, part of which he meant to cook for supper.
They got up shortly after sunrise next day, and were off to the wild interior again as soon as breakfast had been discussed. Tom carried his rifle, Brandy carried a spade.
In a little orange grove they dug a shallow grave, and there laid the skeletons side by side and covered them up.
“We’ll come some other day, Brandy, and erect a cross here,” said Tom as they walked away.
He paused several times to look back at the spot he had chosen for a last resting-place for the remains. It was peculiar, and the more he thought of it the stranger it appeared. Three trees had been planted at right angles to the wood that rose over a hill on the east side of the valley. They were equidistant, and close to the centre one, almost overshadowed by it indeed, was the grove of orange-trees and bananas in which they had made the grave. No other trees were anywhere nearer than the wood itself.
They must have been planted there as a mark to something. But to what?