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 |
---|---|---|---|
26435 | 2019-09-14 15:31:38 | 74.27 | 96% |
22491 | 2019-03-30 01:33:48 | 77.97 | 98% |
20408 | 2019-01-31 02:24:46 | 84.25 | 99% |