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 |
---|---|---|---|
12343 | 2020-11-06 12:44:21 | 95.87 | 98% |
4855 | 2020-06-08 18:36:07 | 78.56 | 97% |
3245 | 2020-05-22 23:22:39 | 71.20 | 96% |