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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 14361 | 2019-10-15 21:06:51 | 93.06 | 98% |
| 12567 | 2019-06-15 14:30:51 | 80.97 | 96% |
| 10938 | 2019-04-22 03:08:31 | 81.75 | 97% |
| 8891 | 2019-03-04 03:15:02 | 83.27 | 98% |
| 8474 | 2019-02-20 01:42:09 | 79.51 | 97% |
| 7195 | 2019-01-12 10:52:54 | 75.94 | 98% |