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 |
---|---|---|---|
6779 | 2020-07-31 16:59:01 | 55.70 | 93% |
4889 | 2020-04-08 08:42:57 | 61.99 | 94% |
4343 | 2020-03-26 04:52:30 | 60.70 | 93% |