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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3871 | 2019-09-16 12:53:16 | 92.37 | 97% |
| 3350 | 2019-05-12 03:52:24 | 95.57 | 96% |
| 3100 | 2019-03-29 03:10:57 | 94.35 | 97% |
| 1757 | 2018-09-11 22:08:00 | 83.96 | 96% |
| 821 | 2018-04-12 15:10:42 | 68.98 | 96% |