The men were still clamoring
n the veranda. Simmons appropriated two more packets of
ammunition and ran into the moonlight, muttering: "I'll make a
night of it. Thirty roun's, an' the last for myself. Take you that, you
dogs!"
He dropped on one knee and fired into the brown of the men on
the veranda, but the bullet flew high, and landed in the brickwork
with a vicious phant that made some of the younger ones turn pale.
It is, as musketry theorists observe, one thing to fire and another to
be fired at.
Then the instinct of the chase flared up. The news spread from
barrack to barrack, and the men doubled out intent on the capture
of Simmons, the wild beast, who was heading for the Cavalry
parade-ground, stopping now and again to send back a shot and a
Lurse in the direction of his pursuers.
"I'll learn you to spy on me!" he shouted; "I'll learn you to give me
dorg's names! Come on the 'ole lot O' you! Colonel John Anthony
Deever, C.B.!"-he turned toward the Infantry Mess and shook his
rifle-"you think yourself the devil of a man-but I tell 'jou that if you
Put your ugly old carcass outside O' that door, I'll make you the
poorest-lookin' man in the army. Come out, Colonel John
Anthony Deever, C.B.! Come out and see me practiss on the
rainge. 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.
Pages:
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141