Late in the afternoon of a day in the early part of last December I had ridden out from our lines in Ladysmith towards a certain position usually occupied by a Boer outpost, trusting by my going out deliberately and unarmed to get one of the men there to have a talk, just as one of the Lancers had a few days previously. For some time we had been on short rations of "copy" as well as food. I rode along the edge of an empty spruit, into the bed of which my spurs would have propelled my horse in the unlikely event of a shot being my first greeting.
Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
---|---|---|---|
6343 | 2018-12-29 06:25:45 | 94.36 | 97% |
4590 | 2018-05-04 01:46:32 | 97.19 | 97% |
2676 | 2018-02-19 23:40:09 | 95.75 | 98% |