"How are the Company doing generally, Sergeant-Major?" inquires the Captain of D Company.
"Very well, sirr, except for some carelessness," replies the great man impressively. "That man there"--he indicates a shrinking figure hurrying rearwards--"has just spoilt his own score and another man's by putting two shots on the wrong target."
There is a horrified hum at this, for to fire upon some one else's target is the gravest crime in musketry. In the first place, it counts a miss for yourself. In the second, it may do a grievous wrong to your neighbour; for the law ordains that, in the event of more than five shots being found upon any target, only the worst five shall count. Therefore, if your unsolicited contribution takes the form of an outer, it must be counted, to the exclusion, possibly, of a bull. The culprit broke into a double.
Having delivered himself, Sergeant-Major Pumpherston graciously accepted the charger of cartridges which an obsequious acolyte was proffering, rammed it into the magazine, adjusted the sights, spread out his legs to an obtuse angle, and fired his first shot.
All eyes were turned upon target Number Seven. But there was no signal. All the other markers were busy flourishing discs or flags; only Number Seven remained cold and aloof.
The Captain of D Company laughed satirically.
"Number Seven gone to have his hair cut!" he observed.
"Third time this morning, sir," added a sycophantic subaltern.
"I can do without signals, sir," he said "I know where the shot went all right. I must get the next a _little_ more to the left. That last one was a bit too near to three o'clock to be a certainty."
He fired again--with precisely the same result.
Every one was quite apologetic to the sergeant-major this time.
"This must be stopped," announced the Captain. "Mr. Simson, ring up Captain Wagstaffe on the telephone."
But the sergeant-major would not hear of this.
"The butt-registers are good enough for me, sir," he said with a paternal smile. He fired again. Once more the target stared back, blank and unresponsive.
This time the audience were too disgusted to speak. They merely shrugged their shoulders and glanced at one another with sarcastic smiles. The Captain, who had suffered a heavy reverse at the hands of Captain Wagstaffe earlier in the morning, began to rehearse the wording of his address over the telephone.