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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5730 | 2018-09-17 23:29:29 | 79.17 | 96% |
| 5718 | 2018-09-17 01:41:57 | 79.66 | 96% |
| 5338 | 2018-08-05 21:51:03 | 78.71 | 96% |
| 4207 | 2018-04-15 22:56:19 | 88.46 | 96% |