tretched out in the posture of sleep,
some sitting at table like the first seen, but all showing that death
had come suddenly and unexpectedly.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE CHAPEL.

The boys worked with the utmost swiftness, expecting every moment to
see the captain and Chris appear, but, luckily, those two, wearied by
their hard work, had paused to rest before returning with their load.

"Thirty-one," counted Walter as he lowered the last grinning skeleton
into the pit. "There seems a kind of stern justice in their present
position, Charley," he continued. "Now, they are resting side by side
with those whom they tortured and enslaved while living."

"They paid terribly for their cruelty," said his chum, fingering the
flint arrow-heads he had found by the skeletons. "The whole story is
as plain as print. The thirty men whose bones we have just disposed
of, enslaved and tortured members of what was at that time a great
race, working them as slaves in building these walls, and in that
terrible quarry. I confess to a feeling of admiration for them, in
spite of their cruelty. They must have been great warriors, though so
few in numbers, to hold at bay one of the bravest of the Indian tribes."

"I wonder why they remained in this awful swamp," said Walter, musingly.

"Case of necessity, perhaps," Charley replied, thoughtfully. "They had
probably lost many men by the time they reached this island, and had
concluded that to continue on meant utter annihilation, while here
they, with their superior arms and suits of mail, could stand off the
enemy. So they decided to remain and make the best of it. With the
labor of the Indians they captured from time to time they proceeded to
fortify the island and make it more secure."

Walter gazed at his chum admiringly. "You talk as though you saw it
all in front of your eyes," he declared.

Charley did not heed the interruption. "Years went by," he continued,
musingly, like one in a dream, "years in which they grew more and more
confident of their own power, and learned to despise their red foes.
But the Seminoles were only waiting with the patience of their race.
Mark the cunning of the savage. There comes a day and night of
feasting and rejoicing in the Spaniards' religious calendar. Work and
worry is laid aside and they gather in their homes to feast and
rejoice. Night comes and as the sun sets the sentries cast a look
around. Nothing is in sight. There is nothing