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“My lads,” said the governor, “I daresay you will all be glad to know that the thief who stole the milk has been taken.”

There was a general shout of assent, with here and there a wondering glance at the vacant seat of Jabez, who, having his wounds washed and bound up, had not sat down with them, but had a sort of complimentary breakfast with the servants in the kitchen.

“And I daresay you would like to see the thief, and know how he was caught.”

There was another general “Ay, ay, sir!”

“Well, here he is,” (and he held the snake aloft); “but I don’t think any of you will be thrashed on his account again. Jabez Clegg, here” (and he pulled the reluctant boy forward by the shoulder), “caught the sly robber drinking the milk, and, with nothing but this whip and a fearless resolute arm, put a stop to his depredations, and restored the lost character of the school.”

There was a loud hurrah for Jabez Clegg, who, for the time being was a hero. Then, the snake being carried to the school-room, the Rev. John Gresswell improved the occasion by a lesson on snakes in general, and that one in particular. But when he dissipated the popular belief that all snakes were venomous, and assured the boys that the bite of this was innocuous, more than one of the Blue-coated lads thought Jabez was not such a hero after all.