The others ran up from the little beach. Between the landing-place and the high part of the island where the big pine tree was, there was a round, open space of mossy ground. There were trees round the edge of it, and in the middle of it there was a round place where the turf had been scraped away. Roger was there, looking at a neat ring of stones, making a fireplace with the ashes of an old fire in it. At opposite sides of the ring two stout forked sticks had been driven into the ground and built round with heavy stones, and another long stick was lying across the fireplace in the forks of the two upright sticks, so that a kettle could be hung on it over the fire. Close by the fireplace there was a neat pile of dry sticks all broken to about the same length. Someone had had a fire here, and someone was meaning to have a fire again.
“Natives,” said Titty.
“Perhaps they are still here,” said Roger.
“Come on,” said Captain John. “We’ll go all over it.”
There was really not very much of the island to explore. It did not take the crew of the Swallow very long to make sure that, though someone had been on the island sometime, there was nobody but themselves on the island today. They went up to the northern end of the island, and looked out over the lake from the high part of the island by the big tree. Then they went to the southern part of the island, but found it rocky and covered with heather and small stunted bushes, growing so thickly that it was not easy to push one’s way through them. There were trees, too, but not so tall as those at the northern end. But there were no signs of human beings, and no place where it would be safe to have a fire. They came back to the fireplace.
“The natives knew how to choose the right place,” said Susan, “and it’s a fine fireplace.”
“There are no natives on the island now,” said Roger.