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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 55335 | 2020-01-27 01:00:37 | 114.65 | 99% |
| 53629 | 2019-10-18 05:14:37 | 110.03 | 98% |
| 52246 | 2019-07-17 05:04:03 | 117.49 | 98% |
| 50426 | 2019-04-05 03:04:40 | 104.67 | 98% |
| 49172 | 2019-03-14 03:09:41 | 108.99 | 98% |
| 40370 | 2018-10-09 02:05:37 | 106.67 | 98% |
| 39443 | 2018-09-27 01:44:37 | 100.09 | 96% |