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 |
---|---|---|---|
315 | 2020-11-27 16:27:36 | 75.61 | 95% |
72 | 2020-11-17 10:14:47 | 76.80 | 96% |