Back in the dim past Indian tribes fought many a bloody battle over the copper of this strange island. Here, as we have said before, copper in solid masses might be found close to the surface. Rich indeed was the tribe that possessed copper for knives, beads, spear points and arrow heads.
“I’ll find something more,” she told herself.
As she looked at the surface she had bared she stared in surprise. She had uncovered a mass of charcoal.
“And yet there can have been no forest fire.” She looked at the great two-foot-thick trunk of a spruce tree.
“An Indian mine!” she exclaimed. “They built a fire on the surface, then dragged it away to break hot rock with these stone hammers.”
She scraped away the charcoal with a sharp stick. As she did so something gave forth a low clink.
“No, not a coin, but a knife,” she whispered. “An ancient copper knife! How perfect!” It was indeed a far more perfect specimen than the one she had found on the camping ground. She held the thin blade to the light. Dating back beyond the days of the white man, it held for her an indescribable charm.
“The whole island is a treasure house. I’ll find another.” Once more she prodded away at the moss and charcoal. Not a second knife, but a spear point greeted her excited vision.
She widened her search. Prying away at a deep bed of moss, she tore it away in a yard-square chunk. And there beneath it, grinning and horrible, was a skull.
At that instant something stirred in the brush above her. With a startled scream she whirled about, took one step backward, lost her balance and plunged downward.