“Only Tiny Armstrong’s stocking!” gasped Miss Judy, wiping away her tears of merriment with her middy sleeve.  “I told her they would cause a riot in camp!”

Only Miss Peckham did not laugh; she looked crossly around at the desperately amused girls.

“Oh, Miss Peckham,” gurgled Bengal, “you said it reared up and menaced you with its great, wicked h-head!  You said its hood was swelled up with ferocity and venom, and it hissed sibilantly at you.”

Bengal rolled over and over on the ground, shrieking with mirth.

Miss Peckham, her face a dull red, moved off in the direction of the tent.

Others came up, excitedly demanding to know what the joke was.

“She thought it was a coral snake, and it was Tiny’s stocking,” giggled Bengal, going into a fresh spasm.

“Well, what if I did?” remarked Miss Peckham, turning around and looking at her frigidly.  “It’s a mistake anybody could easily make, I’m sure.”  And she went stiffly up into the tent.

Sahwah and Miss Judy had somewhat recovered their composure by this time, and having captured the wildly agitated stocking they released from it a half-grown chipmunk, who, beside himself with fright and bewilderment, dashed away into the woods like a flash.

“How frightened he was, poor little fellow!” cried Migwan compassionately.  “It wasn’t any joke for him.  He must have been nearly frantic in there.  How do you suppose he ever got in?”

“Walked in, or fell in, possibly,” replied Miss Judy, “and then couldn’t find his way out again.  Tiny had those modest little stockings of hers hanging on the tent ropes this morning, and it was easy enough for a chipmunk to get in.”

Carrying the stocking between them, and followed by all the girls who had been standing around, Sahwah and Miss Judy started for Bedlam to tell Tiny about the panic her hosiery had caused, but halfway to Bedlam the trumpet sounded for dinner and the deputation broke up in a wild rush for the bungalow.  Miss Peckham carefully avoided Miss Judy’s eye all through dinner.

When the Winnebagos sauntered back to their tents for rest hour they all found large, wafer-sealed envelopes lying in conspicuous places upon their respective tables.  Sahwah pounced upon the one in Gitchee-Gummee and looked at it curiously.  On it was written in large red letters: 

  TO THE DWELLERS IN GITCHEE-GUMMEE

IMPORTANT!!!

“Whatever can this be?” she asked in mystified tones.  Miss Judy was not in the tent.

“Open it,” commanded Agony.

Sahwah slit the envelope with the knife that she always kept hanging at her belt, and pulled out a sheet of rough, brown paper, on which was drawn the picture of a girl bound fast to a tree by ropes that went round and round her body, while a band of Indians danced a savage war dance around her.  Underneath was printed in the same large red letters as those which adorned the outside of the envelope: