The waiting on the drill-field became very tedious. So poor is our equipment that we have but eighteen gallery rifles for our hundred and fifty men, and it was nearly an hour before I got my first try. My score this time was the reverse of yesterday, for I got fifty-four out of a possible fifty, one hundred and eight percent! That was because there were thirteen holes in the paper, someone having presented me with the extra three. Counting all the best shots as my own, my official score was 42; yet none of the shots were outside the second ring, and at worst my score was 39. In the afternoon my pride had a fall, for after the same tedious wait I fired my ten rounds at the target. This time I fired prone, both clips within two minutes. This position, flat on my belly with my legs apart (in our close quarters it was difficult not to kick my neighbor, and destructive of aim to have him kick me) with my elbows under me and the gun, and my head bent back, is in itself hard enough to maintain during a single shot. But for rapid fire the process is thus. After the first shot the gun is kept at the shoulder, the muzzle slightly lowered and turned aside to give the right hand a chance to work; I grasp the bolt handle, turn it up, pull it back full length, shove it sharply home, turn it down, and thus have reloaded. Then again I must sight the gun, be sure not to cant it, be sure not to have my eye too close to the cocking piece, must get the sights right, hold steady, and squeeze. All this on a ten seconds' average. After the fifth shot there is a change, for the gun must be taken from the shoulder and the fresh clip inserted. Then five more shots at the same rate. No wonder that, though all these days I have been hardening my elbows and toughening my neck, at the end of my ten shots I fell over gasping. And my luck was bad. First my clip would not go easily into the gun, and made me feel hurried. Next a cartridge jammed, and lost me ten seconds. Then out of the ten cartridges four missed fire, which put me off my aim. My coach was ready with more, but they had to be loaded singly, and I had time to fire only a total of eight, making a miserable score of sixteen. The captain, after briefly scanning my target, told me that I was aiming too low. After another long wait I had another chance; but this time I was thoroughly chilled by the wind that had been blowing through us all the afternoon. Then the worn cartridges and the old breech mechanism behaved badly again, and though by following the captain's hint I did better, making 27, it was very unsatisfactory. The officers hope for more, and new, gallery rifles. Without them it is difficult to give us good preliminary practice. For all this, you know, is to get us ready to shoot with the service rifle.