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 |
---|---|---|---|
5367 | 2018-10-05 21:24:52 | 160.90 | 100% |
4548 | 2018-08-16 15:28:40 | 170.24 | 99% |
3647 | 2018-07-29 07:36:37 | 147.89 | 99% |
2985 | 2018-07-24 22:31:35 | 152.83 | 99% |