I'm the crack shot of the 'ole bloomin' battalion." In proof of which
statement Simmons fired at the lighted windows of the mess-house.
"Private Simmons, E Comp'ny, on the Cavalry p'rade-ground, Sir, with thirty
rounds," said a Sergeant breathlessly to the Colonel. "Shootin' right and
lef', Sir. Shot Private Losson. What's to be done, Sir?"
Colonel John Anthony Deever, C.B., sallied out, only to be saluted by s spurt
of dust at his feet.
"Pull up!" said the Second in Command; "I don't want my step in that way,
Colonel. He's as dangerous as a mad dog."
"Shoot him like one, then," said the Colonel, bitterly, "if he won't take his
chance, My regiment, too! If it had been the Towheads I could have under
stood."
Private Simmons had occupied a strong position near a well on the edge of the
parade-ground, and was defying the regiment to come on. The regiment was not
anxious to comply, for there is small honor in being shot by a fellow-private.
Only Corporal Slane, rifle in band, threw himself down on the ground, and
wormed his way toward the well.
"Don't shoot," said he to the men round him; "like as not you'll hit me. I'll
catch the beggar, livin'."
Simmons ceased shouting for a while, and the noise of trap-wheels could be
heard across the plain.
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