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[Editorial] détour -> detour

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vr8ce 2019-12-17 07:31:34 +07:00
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src/epub/text/one-dollars-worth.xhtml
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@ -56,7 +56,7 @@
<p>“Keep behind the horses, Nan,” he commanded. “That fellow is a ruffian I sent to prison once. He’s trying to get even. He knows our shot won’t hurt him at that distance.”</p>
<p>“All right, Bob,” said Nancy steadily. “I’m not afraid. But you come close, too. Whoa, Bess; stand still, now!”</p>
<p>She stroked Bess’s mane. Littlefield stood with his gun ready, praying that the desperado would come within range.</p>
<p>But Mexico Sam was playing his vendetta along safe lines. He was a bird of different feather from the plover. His accurate eye drew an imaginary line of circumference around the area of danger from bird-shot, and upon this line lie rode. His horse wheeled to the right, and as his victims rounded to the safe side of their equine breastwork he sent a ball through the district attorney’s hat. Once he miscalculated in making a détour, and overstepped his margin. Littlefield’s gun flashed, and Mexico Sam ducked his head to the harmless patter of the shot. A few of them stung his horse, which pranced promptly back to the safety line.</p>
<p>But Mexico Sam was playing his vendetta along safe lines. He was a bird of different feather from the plover. His accurate eye drew an imaginary line of circumference around the area of danger from bird-shot, and upon this line lie rode. His horse wheeled to the right, and as his victims rounded to the safe side of their equine breastwork he sent a ball through the district attorney’s hat. Once he miscalculated in making a detour, and overstepped his margin. Littlefield’s gun flashed, and Mexico Sam ducked his head to the harmless patter of the shot. A few of them stung his horse, which pranced promptly back to the safety line.</p>
<p>The desperado fired again. A little cry came from Nancy Derwent. Littlefield whirled, with blazing eyes, and saw the blood trickling down her cheek.</p>
<p>“I’m not hurt, Bob⁠—only a splinter struck me. I think he hit one of the wheel-spokes.”</p>
<p>“Lord!” groaned Littlefield. “If I only had a charge of buckshot!”</p>