"A snake!" the boys repeated, in astonishment, several of the more timid at once making off to their beds.
"Certainly, a snake," Mr. Purfleet panted. "I put my legs down, and they came against something cold, and it began to twist about. In a moment, if I had not leapt out, I should no doubt have received a fatal wound."
"Where did it come from?"
"What is to be done?"
And a variety of other questions burst from the boys.
"I will run down and get three or four hockey sticks, Mr. Purfleet," one of the elder boys said.
"That will be the best plan, Mason. Quick, quick! There, do you see it moving, under the clothes?"
There was certainly something wriggling, so there was a general movement back from the bed.
"We had better hold the clothes down, Mr. Purfleet," Bob Repton said, pushing himself forward. "If it were to crawl out at the top, and get on to the floor, it might bite a dozen of us. I will hold the clothes down tight, on one side, if someone will hold them on the other."
One of the other boys came forward, and the clothes were stretched tightly across the bed, by the pillow. In a minute or two, Mason ran up with four hockey sticks.