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 |
---|---|---|---|
4200 | 2019-02-20 08:28:58 | 63.78 | 97% |
2423 | 2018-11-26 23:19:43 | 59.04 | 98% |
2391 | 2018-11-19 15:03:45 | 63.33 | 97% |