Word: shots
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...fire at me. I will not return his fire. I shall not resort to this stupid, inconclusive, and barbaric method of settling a quarrel which has been forced* upon me. I had hoped that because of my services to Poland no Pole would take my life. I have been shot at and missed. Had I shot I would not have missed. But I, for my part, I am unwilling to shoot another Pole...
...second hole when Mitchell bunkered an iron shot. He won the fourth hole when Mitchell hooked a drive. He won the fifth and sixth holes with faultless golf, the tenth with a birdie. After that he was never behind again. Mitchell, quite obviously, was stewing in his own juice. Perspiration poured into his eyes; he had his caddy fetch a towel from the clubhouse, complained that he could not hold his clubs. To remedy the last evil he donned a chamois glove, but, yielding to the dim British feeling that a man who plays golf without a coat might...
...founding of "Estes Park" (Col.) in 1875 caused him to be ridiculed in London as the "Yanko-maniac." As a youth he twice served the London Daily Telegraph as war correspondent (Anglo-Abyssinian and Franco-Prussian wars), shot big game with "Buffalo Bill" and many another, soldiered, yachted, steeplechased. Facially he resembled Wilhelm...
...barn one afternoon last week to observe the erratic flight of an airplane coming along low over the fields from the windy northwest. It was swerving and teetering as if its courage were buffeted away. Two small pieces fell from it. It twirled reluctantly, then dropped like a shot bird. Farmer Letendre extricated from the wreck the remains of Pilot Elmer Lee Partridge. Partridge had just left Minneapolis on the inaugural southbound trip of an air mail service between there and Chicago.* Three of the five other pilots flying the new route that day were blown astray. Partridge is believed...
...spoil a great many people's summer vacations, but far more malice could have been wrought, and more sales made, if the ending had not been so tediously dragged out. After paddling far up the stream of U. S. literature, Mr. Lewis has idly turned his canoe and shot some unexciting rapids...