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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 30267 | 2019-11-02 01:21:23 | 97.83 | 97% |
| 28536 | 2019-08-27 01:38:31 | 95.33 | 98% |
| 28258 | 2019-07-20 14:49:38 | 88.04 | 97% |
| 26891 | 2018-03-23 00:18:02 | 92.39 | 98% |