They lay down upon the ground, disposing themselves on the softest spots that they could find. Paul stared up for a few moments at the great circular wall of trees, and the weird, chilly sensation came again, but he was too tired and sleepy to think about it long. In fifteen minutes he slumbered soundly, and so did all the others. They lay with their faces showing but faintly in the dusk, and as they lay in the sheltered cove a soft wind breathed gently over them.
All were up early in the morning, and Paul was surprised to see Henry lighting a fire with flint and steel.
"Why do you do that, Henry?" he said. "Will not the smoke give warning to our enemies that we are here?"
"We shall send up but little smoke," replied Henry; "but if they should see it, they will not come."
He went on with the fire, and Paul, although mystified, would not ask anything more, too proud to show ignorance, and confident that anyhow he would soon learn the cause of these strange proceedings. 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.