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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 62494 | 2020-05-19 14:48:50 | 71.06 | 98% |
| 61228 | 2020-03-03 14:30:52 | 67.81 | 97% |
| 59861 | 2019-12-25 16:37:13 | 70.75 | 98% |
| 54919 | 2019-04-14 09:32:55 | 67.91 | 97% |
| 54527 | 2019-04-05 13:18:16 | 66.42 | 98% |
| 49003 | 2018-09-02 01:33:24 | 70.48 | 97% |
| 48509 | 2018-08-18 12:03:06 | 66.08 | 97% |
| 42744 | 2018-02-21 12:48:45 | 66.28 | 97% |