The Crystal Sceptre by Philip Verrill Mighels

WHETHER the fruit I had eaten produced a soporific effect, or whether I was physically exhausted by my recent experience in the balloon and the subsequent events, is more than I know, but in the heat of that day, in the camp of the Links, I grew so drowsy that sleep was not to be resisted. For at least forty-eight hours and perhaps for sixty, or more, I had not so much as taken off my shoes. Feeling confident of the friendly attitude of the tribe of creatures, I finally removed nearly all of my clothing, made a bed in the shade of a tree and sank at once into dreamless slumber. The last thing I remembered was that Fatty had taken up a position near by, much as a faithful dog might do, to watch against intrusion. Necessarily my every movement had been observed by a large and appreciative audience of Links.

In the late afternoon I awoke, amazingly refreshed. Such a chattering and game of chase was in progress that I sat up abruptly. Every stitch of the clothing with which I had covered myself, had disappeared. In a moment I beheld it, then, in fragments. The male Links--all but Fatty--had gone off on some expedition, but the females were there in force and these had appropriated coat, vest, trousers and shoes. My trousers were occupied by two different "ladies," one of whom had a half, pulled wrong side out. She wore it jauntily on her arm, while the other had both her feet inside the other portion, and was consequently falling down at every movement, thereby furnishing no end of enthusiasm in her efforts at marching on dress-parade. My vest had become a breech-clout, ripped up the back. Evidently instinct suggests robing the legs, for my coat was employed in this manner by a female of peculiarly thin proportions. Her inordinate vanity, begotten of the attention she attracted, was quite human, as also was the savage jealousy of other females who made ineffectual efforts to rip the article off for themselves.