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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 27624 | 2019-07-20 22:09:16 | 150.61 | 99% |
| 22158 | 2019-04-24 14:18:07 | 161.25 | 99% |
| 10065 | 2019-01-09 14:25:33 | 138.63 | 98% |
| 8363 | 2018-12-23 16:50:46 | 141.80 | 99% |
| 8204 | 2018-12-23 02:59:38 | 140.76 | 99% |