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
curse 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 towards the Infantry Mess and
shook his rifle - "you think yourself the devil of a man - but I
tell you 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.

"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 a 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."