Word: volleyer
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Dates: during 1920-1929
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...Undeterred, the brave savages withdrew, circled, charged again and again . . . from 4 a. m. till 10 a. m The last volley saw the Druses riding off carrying dead and wounded comrades. . . The Druses, with their faith in reincarnation, believe those they were obliged to leave mangles by modern weapons have lost their souls as well as their bodies. . . . There were no French casualties...
Intercollegiates. When Maurice E. McLoughlin, the California Comet, came blazing across the U. S., lawn tennis followers saw for the first time what efficiency could be displayed by a player who never, if he could help it, took a ball on the bounce, but rushed for the net, to volley, smash, chop. Many lively Californians since have endeavored to maintain their state's tradition for skill at the net. Last week, a youth named Edward G. Chandler of the University of California won the Intercollegiate Tennis Championship from Cranston Holman of Stamford...
...held up a car driven by W. W. Mackenzie, British Engineer, and Miss Mary Duncan, British subject. As Miss Duncan reported, Mackenzie got out of the car and asked the coolie? what they wanted. Horrid laughter greeted him. A shot was fired. Mackenzie scrambled back into the car. A volley of bullets followed him and he fell mortally wounded. Miss Duncan, slightly wounded, seized the wheel, drove to the concession...
...nobleman bounded about a tennis court in Vienna. He was Count Ludwig Salm-Hoogstraten, playing K. A. Meldon of Ireland in the Davis Cup Tournament. Undaunted by losing the first two sets, 8-10, 4-6, the Count stroked his ball with reckless brilliance, accompanying every stroke with a volley of rough pleasantries. When Herr Quidenius, President of the Austrian Chamber of Commerce, arrived, late, flustered, to take his seat, the Count implored him to leave. "Why must you come to spoil my luck?" he yelled. Herr Quidenius blushed. The gallery guffawed. Player Meldon, sensing the humor of the situation...
...Bulgaria and M. Iltcheff, Director of the Sofia Museum, comfortably seated in an automobile, were being whirled along the white road that lies between Orchanie, a country town, and Sofia, the capital. As the car passed along a narrow strip of road between two high banks, a volley of shots rang out. M. Iltcheff and a servant were killed, the chauffeur was wounded, one side of the King's moustache was clipped. Instantly, the King took control of the car but, failing to turn it on account of the broken steering gear, jumped out and. returned the fire...